A/N: This one may be a bit more violent than the average.

Robin barely emoted as he swiped his sword along one of the Plegian soldiers' throat before turning the blade around and thrusting it behind him into the heart of another poorly armored man. They were clean kills at the least, not that he was feeling particularly merciful at the moment.

His analytical mind was seemingly going into overdrive as every raindrop seemed to register as it his skin, his coat, or anywhere in his general vicinity. More than that, it almost seemed to stop as he briefly analyzed the situation.

He had not been in a mood for a deep strategy. He was not in the mood to strategize at all. To him, it was his inadequate strategy that got them into this mess. Still, they had insisted, and he had provided the most basic of battle plans. It was about all their states of mind would allow for anyway.

They were doing a good job of plowing through them it seemed. They were sloppy, they were disorganized, but they were also angry. This seemingly undermanned squadron was no match for their fury. They were angry, raw.

A roar from a few openings in the bones away momentarily distracted Robin as Chrom tackled a soldier to the ground. Robin quickly looked away not desiring a fresh reminder of the pain that he had been unable to stop. Instead, he brandished his sword as his left hand cackled with electricity while marching forward to the opposition.

His only goal was to get the Shepherds out alive at that point, and he would not let any of them get in his way.


Lon'qu deftly slipped in between the Plegian's guard, quickly ending their brief duel. These troops were better trained than the general grunts, that much was clear, but they were not highly manned and morale for them was almost as low as it was for the Shepherds. Not that most of his allies were in much of a state to realize this.

The Feroxi grunted a brief show of respect to the fallen soldier before moving on. He was an outsider. He honestly did not have much stake in all of this, but even he was not so cold as to not be affected by the Exalt's words. He was not demoralized, but rather reflective when not in the midst of combat.

As a man of Regna Ferox, Lon'qu believed in the rule of strength. He still did. It gave him something to strive for. An escape from the dark echoes of his past. However, while he still believed in strength, he also pondered the late Exalt's words which she backed up with actions.

Emmeryn at the surface level, she was the complete opposite of what would demand a Feroxi's respect, but she believed in her path to the very end. While Lon'qu still believed her views to be somewhat naïve, she had still recognized what she believed needed to be done, and she did it. She knew Chrom would not put good sense before her. So she made the hard call herself.

Lon'qu did not agree with her ideas completely. He believed such open pacifism invited those like Gangrel to rise. Despite that, he respected her, and he was curious to see what Chrom would do next. Would he submit to the rage, would he commit completely to his sister's ideals, or would he find his own path?

The swordsman swiftly deflected an axe meant for the distracted young princess' head, pulling himself out of thought instantly, "Stay focused." He was not sure if his reprimand was even heard as he finished off her would be attacker, but as he spared her a brief glance to make sure that she was safe and still following behind, Lon'qu reconsidered his earlier stance.

He supposed that he did have some personal stake in these affairs.


Sir Frederick's icy glare alerted the Plegians to their fate far better than his words ever could. There would be no mercy. His liege had been taken from him, and in his eyes, they were just as much to blame as Gangrel. A sentiment that, given the time, the Plegians may have come to believe almost as much as the enraged Ylisseans.

The knight's appearance did little to show how distraught he truly was. The only real aspect of his appearance that was not in top form was his wet hair plastered against his scalp. Otherwise, his armor looked practically brand new as the rain ran down the cool metal. A far cry from the distress he was feeling internally.

He was a knight! He had a sworn duty to protect the Ylissean royal family. A duty he took ridiculously seriously, and…he had failed. Emmeryn was…gone. He had failed as a knight. What good was a knight who could not protect those he was sworn to protect? What good was a failure of a knight?

Emmeryn. So many things left unsaid. So many improper things he could never bring himself to say. They were feelings that he would have to carry with him now. He had failed, and he would have to live with that. He vowed to himself that he would protect those that were left, no matter how much each step hurt. Eventually, the pain would lessen.

Though the rain hid it, a single tear escaped his eye as he rode forward. No more would follow.


"Out of my sight!" Cordelia yelled as she threw a javelin at an approaching Plegian. She threw with such accuracy and force that the poor solider found himself pierced through the heart. Though the victory did little to appease the pegasus knight.

The redhead shivered as the rain pelted her and her mount. It would not let them fly too high, but it was not the cause of her trembling. She had lost so much. First her platoon, now almost all of her pegasus knight sisters. Gone. Almost all of them. She and Sumia were all that remained of Ylisse's pegasus knights now.

The pegasus knights were like sisters, and Phila was their older sister. Watching her get shot down…it shook the young pegasus knight to her core. The sight mixed with the sounds of her platoon's screams seemed to torment her every waking moment. At least, every moment she was not fighting.

So she fought. She gripped her lance and javelins so hard that her knuckles turned white underneath her gauntlets as she tore through any opposing soldiers she could find. She was in a bad state, barely registering her surroundings. It made her sloppy. Sloppy enough to miss as a Plegian fighter hurled a hand axe toward her.

Fortunately, she had been trailed by an ally. The hand axe was caught in the air by the viridian knight's sword and promptly tossed aside before the knight finished the offending fighter off. With the immediate area clear, he laid a gauntleted hand onto the redhead's shoulder.

Cordelia tensed when she felt the weight on her shoulder. It took her a moment to realize who it was. She relaxed slightly under his touch. Whether she admitted it or not, he had become very important to her recently. He was the one thing anchoring her to reality really. When her mind raced, it was not Chrom that brought her ease, it was him. He had somehow snuck his way into being the most important person to her in the world.

She let out a breath and sent him a thankful nod. They would get through this together. She would carry on her sisters' legacy.


Sumia rushed to intercept another soldier attempting to get to Chrom. In his current state, he was not too keen on keeping track of his surroundings. This left him rather vulnerable, but Sumia had so far done a good job of intercepting threats that he failed to recognize.

Everything that happened was just so much to take in. Emmeryn's sacrifice, the death of Phila and the pegasus knights, and now Chrom's almost bestial rage toward the Plegians. The latter of which hurt her the most. Yes, he responded with a firm hand when tested, but he was not a savage killer. The fury in his eyes though…it scared her.

She was scared that the kind and caring man she had fallen in love with would be consumed by this raging animal. That he would give in to the anger and hate becoming mad in his thirst for revenge. Perhaps it was hyperbole, but seeing him in his berserker rage, she trembled at the possibility that he would become something he would hate.

No. Sumia steeled herself. Chrom would not become another Gangrel or his father. His friends would not allow it. She would not allow it. She would be there for him. She would never leave him so long as she lived.


Chrom barely thought as he tackled the Plegian into the mud. The soldier did manage to knock Falchion away leaving the prince to slug it out with the unfortunate man. Chrom could feel his own exhaustion burning at his muscles, but he paid it no mind as the two wrestled. The altercation came to a swift end when Chrom found Falchion in the muck and planted it in the man's chest.

He forced himself up carrying the national treasure with him, not even bothering to attempt to clean it. Instead, he marched onward to his next opponent. Despite how completely miserable it was outside, Chrom barely slowed down. He dutifully marched onward killing anyone that got in his way. He was angry, and he wanted to hurt them for taking his sister.

He was not thinking rationally, he was simply lashing out in his own anguish. Suddenly, Chrom had felt like a small boy again, helpless as his sister was pelted with stones. He felt the rage from back then a thousand times over. Only this time he was no small boy. He was a man with the skill and means to make others pay.

It was in this state of bloodlust that Chrom finally caught sight of the enemy general. Gritting his teeth, Chrom clenched the mud and blood coated Falchion, and with an almost bestial roar, he charged after the old soldier.


As Chrom went to engage Mustafa, both sides seemed to stop to watch the struggle. It almost served as a metaphor for the entire battle as the distraught Chrom ruthlessly attacked the reluctant Mustafa.

Sumia watched on in fear, mostly for Chrom, but also for the seemingly kindhearted man unfortunate enough to be his opponent. Cordelia held no such sympathy for the general only seeing an enemy to be struck down. Frederick spared the general the same icy glare that he had given his troops as they tried to stand in his way. Lon'qu stared on stoically while keeping an eye on the Plegians to make sure they did try and take advantage of the situation all the while to a casual observer seemingly ignoring the princess hanging onto his arm. Meanwhile, Robin's analytical gaze sized up the duel.

The general was clearly experienced. He was likely a veteran as he seemed more competent than most of the forces they had seen thus far. Not that it mattered in the end. Chrom may not have been as experienced, but he was one of the strongest and most talented swordsmen there were. Add that to his dedication to his own training and his almost animalistic rage, and the Plegian general did not stand a chance.

Chrom, meanwhile, was numb to it all. Even his own rage at this point. He just fought. It was all he knew to do, so he fought as hard as he could. The general's dying words barely even registered to the prince at that point. He was just tired. Exhausted from his rampage. Other things were said, and he did notice some Plegians watching idly as they left, but he was too emotionally spent to care by then.

He simply got into a wagon like the others and stared down at Falchion as the caravan drove away from the midmire. As the wagon tossed to and fro, Chrom stared down at the legendary blade sitting in the floor of the wagon. A national treasure of Ylisse was now caked in blood and mud in a manner utterly unfitting of the ancient relic.

It just drove home to the prince how much of a failure he felt like. With the heat of the moment passed, Chrom thought back on the haze that was the previous battle. What would Em have thought seeing him lose control like that? Would she be disgusted? They needed to get through, but it went beyond necessity for him. It had been about revenge. He felt the need to hurt someone, anyone he could remotely blame for what had happened. Despite his hatred, he still felt sick at the thought that he could stoop so low. That he might actually be like his father or Gangrel.

The prince suddenly flinched when he felt someone touch his side.

"S-sorry," Sumia squeaked at his sudden reflex, "You have a cut, and…I was going to tend to it."

"Oh, sorry," Was all he said in reply. He had not even noticed that he was injured.

"I'm…I'm so sorry about what happened. If there's anything I can do to help, please let me know."

Chrom raised a brow at her, "Even after that display? You'd still stand by me?"

"Of course!" Sumia replied enthusiastically, "I may not know how you truly must feel, but I know that it must hurt. I can't blame you for being angry."

Chrom looked back down to his sword, "And what if I'm just another tyrant in the making?"

"Captain! I don't believe you could ever be a tyrant. The fact that you feel bad is proof! You're not a monster; you're just human. You'll get through this. I just know it."

"Thank you, Sumia. For everything." He wanted to live up to her expectations, but…what was he compared to his sister? Could he ever be half the leader she was? What did he do now?

A slight glint then caught his eye. Looking back down, he saw a bit of Falchion's steely surface peaking through the muck and catching a few of the moon's rays as the clouds parted. First things first, he would give the treasure the care it deserved. He could figure the rest out later.

A/N: Replaying Awakening and think I got the idea of what Lon'qu's thoughts during chapter 10 as sort of an outsider, and then this kind of came to be.

I will avoid saying too much about the CYL, but I will say that a Chrom victory next year should not be assumed. If you want him to win, go all in from the start. While not as big as TH, Awakening generally has a decent sized voting block, if only we Awakening fans could focus a bit more. Not that it would have stopped the meme machine this year, but Chrom might have been in some time sooner.

Now, I promise, I have some work done on that story I mentioned. Hit a bit of a snag, but I think I have an idea how to move forward. Though I have had some doubts about it. It deals with Future Past Lucina who I don't want to imply as being the same as the normal Lucina, and in story that will probably come up, but if Robin ends up with her anyway…I guess more in a meta sense it may be like saying their the same anyway.