Serious Business Warning

This story fairly directly discusses rape and sexual violence. If you're not comfortable with this or it's a trigger for you, please don't read this story.

For that matter, this story is also going to be pretty violent, have a fair amount of coarse language, and touch on some sensitive political issues in an alternate-history fashion. Fair warning.

0o0o0

I feel the assailant's teeth shatter as I slam my fist into his jaw, the resonating crack both disgusting and elating as the woman he was forcing himself onto collapses. He turns, still holding onto consciousness, in time to eat another punch, this one a short jab into his nose. I've learned from experience that if I do that one too hard, I've got a corpse, not an unconscious scumbag.

But when your sister is half pope and half princess, you can get away with a lot.

He falls over in a heap on the bitumen, and I wince and suck my bloody knuckles. I'm a good brawler, but I can't hit someone that hard without Newton's third law coming back to bite me in the ass. I turn to find my sister, Lissa (not the one I mentioned earlier) rifling through a first aid kit, looking at me, the woman and man in a constant panicked succession. The back alley smells mostly of piss and sweat, but there's the unmistakable tinge of blood in the air as well. I just hope it's ours, not the woman's.

"Her first," I bark out. "Then him. Then me." It's only fair; we came here to help her, after all, whoever she might be. And even a lowlife like that rapist deserves to live. Our older sister raised us better than to let a man fail to make up for his wrongs. She nods stiffly, blonde ponytails bouncing in a distinctly uncheery manner. I hate doing this to her, I really do, but I can barely put on a bandage and she's a wizard at this kind of thing.

That's us: Chrom and Lissa Korolshenko, brother and sister to the Most Exalted Emmeryn Korolshenko, leader of the Ylissean independence movement and spiritual figurehead of the fledgling nation. We don't have an army. We barely have a police force - they'd rather drink than chase criminals, assuming they aren't sitting in the back rooms counting bribes or out committing the crimes they're supposed to stop.

That's where the Pastukhs come in, and I'm their commander. In the West, in a country with law and order, we'd be feared vigilantes on the wrong side of the law. Here, we operate with the consent if not approval of my older sister, and the populace is thankful there's someone on the job. I can't say the streets are safe at night thanks to me, but they're safer; and that's enough.

By the time my internal monologue is done, my second-in-command Frederick Jagenholdt has returned, out of breath but with his suit barely out of place. He's one of the few Pastukhs with formal training, as a bodyguard to the former Soviet Union, and it shows in his gait and manner. He cuts an imposing figure even in a cheap suit, and he makes good use of that; the thugs accompanying this rapist scattered as soon as he turned up.

As he approaches, he slides his mobile phone back into his pocket, and brushes off Lissa's concerned look with nary a glance. Instead, he addresses me. "His associates fled. The commissioner is letting us have this case." 'The commissioner' is one Captain Phila, the closest thing Ylisse has to a military commander. She's unconnected to the Pastukhs, but serves as a kind of liaison. With her off the case, the Pastukhs have the last word on what happens to these two.

Does that sound like I'm an inch from turning into a power-mad maniac? I suppose it does. That's the thing, though; I've always got Emmeryn's example to follow, and Phila knows it. When the FSU crumbled, it was her that won us our independence without firing a shot or throwing a rock. If it wasn't for the West's ignorance, she'd have won a Nobel Peace Prize. Half pope, half princess. How could I take a step wrong with her looking over my shoulder?

Lissa's nearly done with the woman that was attacked, but as she examines her for identification, she comes up empty. "Nothing. This woman's a blank," she says, half to herself.

"Probably an undocumented migrant," Frederick says, a mixture of contempt and disinterest in his voice. "You know how it is." I'm not going to pretend Ylisse is a paradise, but compared to some of the former Soviet bloc, it's a marked improvement. Where's she from, I wonder? Latvia? Ukraine?

"So we've got no leads on her?" I ask, expecting and getting a shake of my sister's head in response. "Ugh. We'll have to ask this man." I squeeze all the contempt I can into that last word.

"Chrom, we have to do something," she pleads.

"What do you propose we do?" I reply. I'm open to suggestions, honestly; this is the first time I've encountered a victim who was the unknown entity.

She purses her lips. "I…I don't know," she admits, and her head slumps in defeat. I lean down to comfort her when the woman stirs, and deep brown eyes start to take in the world around her.

We both move to hold her still. She isn't badly injured, but we don't want her panicking either. "I see you're awake now," I say gently, trying to communicate with my tone and attitude rather than the words themselves. She might not even speak our language, after all.

"Hey there," Lissa whispers softly, a sweet smile on her face. The woman goggles a little at the pair of us, and when she tries to sit up, she ends up rolling on her side instead. I turn to Frederick, about to say We need to take her to the safe house when he nods and goes to retrieve the car. He's always been fast on the uptake.

The woman looks like she's about to fall asleep again, so I gently nudge her, whispering "There're better places to sleep than on the ground, you know." I hold out both hands in what I hope is a welcoming, friendly gesture. "Here. Let me help you up." And as she takes her hands in mine, a snaking purple tattoo on one wrist burning under the harsh fluorescent lights, I pull her to her feet, and we see eye to eye for the first time.

0o0o0

A/N: This…is certainly a thing. Please leave a review if you have anything to say.

There's a lot of assumed or barely hinted-at knowledge involved in this AU, so allow me to try and establish the basics. All will be told in due time!

Ylisse is part of the former USSR, a tiny Eastern European country that won its independence by the efforts of the Most Exalted Emmeryn Korolshenko at the tender age of nine. She's basically Malala Yousafzai, Gandhi and the Pope all rolled into one.

Because Emmeryn's a radical pacifist, Ylisse has no military. Because they're part of the former Soviet Union, the law enforcement is incompetent at best and criminal at worst. That's why she tolerates her brother and the Pastukhs dealing out vigilante justice across Ylisse.