1. Introduction (Warning: Spoilers for up to Chapter 10 - Renewal in Fire Emblem: Awakening)

One of the most infamous dates in history for the Halidom of Ylisse and the Theocratic Republic of Plegia started out like so many other days. The sky was bright and clear, not one cloud dotted the vast stretch sea of blue. No major weather abnormalities were reported across the entire continent. In fact, the temperature was anything but out of the ordinary for the month of April. By all means it was a calm, idyllic spring day. If this day were like any other day, then nobody would have given it a second thought. It would be another insignificant date lost to time.

However, this was the date that marked a turning point for the countries of both Ylisse and Plegia. Two bitter enemies that were scarred by wars long since past, yet continued to be plagued by the shadows of their antiquity. The prejudice, nationalism, and religious zealotry that characterized the years following proved to be fertile ground for the wounds of decade long conflict to continue to fester. Underneath the deceitful tranquility that characterized this unremarkable day, the generation long conflict that had been steadily boiling was about to reach the point of eruption.

In the future, this date became a painful reminder to the citizens of both countries of the wars that led to the deaths of countless innocents and almost consumed the two nations as a whole. Those who were alive during that period of history knew exactly where he or she were and what they were doing when they first heard of the news. Whether they had just gotten home from shopping at the local market, were in school, or were at the bar drinking a pint with their friends, everybody old enough to remember what happened had a story to share. And for one man, if asked, he could tell you in painstaking detail everything that you could ever want to know about the date that now lives in infamy. He could, because he was there at the forefront when it happened.

In the far outreaches of the despondent climate of the Plegian desert, the benevolent and deeply-loved Exalt of Ylisse, Emmeryn, had met her end in the sands of the barren desert. She was executed without trial, or a reason to arrest her in the first place by the order of Gangrel, the Mad King of Plegia. A rescue was organized by the Ylissean militia group known as the Shepherds led by her brother, Prince Chrom, and coordinated by Robin, the tactician of the Shepherds. Assisted by the Ylissean Armed Forces, among which included the elite squadron of Ylisse's Pegasus Knight force, and the infantry of their neighboring ally of Regna Ferox, the Shepherds fought tooth and nail through unfamiliar, scorching desert and waves of Plegian soldiers in a desperate attempt to save their queen.

But even with the combined might of two countries's fighting forces, they were unable to stop the execution in time. Countless Ylissean and Feroxian soldiers had lost their lives during the trek to Plegia. The Pegasus Knights had met a particularly grisly end: slain in cold blood by Risen archers before they had a chance to save Emmeryn from the executioner's perch. While none of the Shepherds died while traveling to Plegia, nor in the fight leading up to the execution, the aftermath of that fateful day was much worse than if any of them did.

As the story goes, Gangrel's demands to hand over the Fire Emblem in exchange for the Exalt's life were about to be met had it not been for the Exalt herself silencing the whole congregation. Eyewitnesses to the event described the scene as becoming dead quiet aside from the nonsensical ramblings of the mad king. Even the previously rowdy Plegian crowd had stopped to listen. The Exalt in that moment looked like the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders as she smiled down from atop the the executioner's perch at her brother, sister, and all who had gathered. She then gave her final address, seemingly her own eulogy, speaking to not her own people, but rather the citizens of Plegia. She called for the entire nation to end the cycle of war and hatred, as it would win them nothing but heartache and pain. She stepped closer to the edge and told the crowd that gathered "...to see how one selfless act has the power to change the world," before taking another step, and willingly fell off the cliff.

In that moment, time slowed down to a crawl. The screams that filled the arena of soldiers and citizens of Ylissean, Feroxian, and Plegian origin watching as the Exalt fell were deafening. Above all, the loudest of them all had to be that of Prince Chrom and Princess Lissa. Most people could do nothing but watch in shock or scream in terror. Princess Lissa had collapsed to the ground and covered her ears, screaming in fear. Many others followed suit and also could not help but break down in tears. However the prince, along with a few other brave souls, had rushed forward in a hopeless attempt to break her fall. The volume of the mass congregation of screams and utter discord grew so intense that the impact of Emmeryn's fall could not be heard.

Chaos immediately followed as soon as the exalt hit the ground. King Gangrel was beside himself with laughter, taking sick pleasure in her death, although lamenting that it wasn't nearly as bloody enough. He ordered his disoriented army into immediate battle with the Ylissean forces again. During the panic and confusion that followed the execution, the Plegian forces clumsily engaged the disheartened Ylissean-Feroxian army. Miraculously, no deaths were recorded at this time. If it hadn't been for the careful planning of Khan Basilio and Khan Flavia of Regna Ferox securing an escape route, the Shepherds would have likely met the same fate as their queen.

It wasn't until long after the Shepherds had fled the execution did they hear that the news spread quickly across all of Ylisse, Plegia, and beyond the continent: The Halidom of Ylisse had lost one of it's greatest exalts. Prince Chrom and Princess Lissa lost their sister. And the world lost one of it's most beautiful, kind-hearted souls.

The following account is that of the Shepherds' personal escape from Plegia immediately following the execution of Exalt Emmeryn. While there exists multiple stories from different primary sources, this is the one that is most widely known amongst the general public and confirmed as mostly accurate by former members of the Shepherds.

After regretfully parting ways with the main Ylissean force and his own Feroxian troops, Khan Basilio led the Shepherds out of the Plegian Castle courtyard, across patches of desert, and into the Midmire, a canyon situated west of the castle. The area was notorious for being constructed out of the remains of the Fell Dragon, Grima himself, who had been slain by the First Exalt of Ylisse thousands of years prior. Five large rock formations stood in the center and comprised the main structure of the ravine. The formations were evenly spaced out, but close together enough to provide little room for movement.

The ribs of the Fell Dragon decorated around the formations. each one was rotten and showed thousands of years of wear, but they still somehow remained wickedly sharp. They dangled overhead, perhaps only a hundred feet from the ground. Each time the wind howled, the bones were buffeted by the strong gusts. They creaked ominously, the sound reverberating across the entire ravine, as they threatened to break off and impale anybody unlucky enough to be caught underneath.

Despite the danger of the Midmire, the Shepherds could not afford to pick a better option, and plunged deep into the belly of the skeletalized draconid.

"Keep moving!" Basilio yelled. "We can't let the Plegians catch up! Our way out is just up ahead. Let's GO, GO, GO!".

Suddenly, the darkening sky opened up and unleashed a full-on torrential downpour of rain. The rain quickly turned the dusty canyon into a pit of boggy marshland. It became difficult to see and walk as the Shepherds squinted through the rain and struggled to move as quickly as possible. The darkness gave a dreadful feeling to the already terrifying boneyard. The creaking of the bones still echoed throughout the canyon, but now they could no longer be seen. The only light source they had were a few meager lanterns that shone weakly and illuminated the path ahead poorly. Sometimes, lightning struck and thunder rolled across the Midmire as it briefly became illuminated by the strike. But the little pathway that it revealed only reminded the Shepherds of their grim situation.

Although the Fell Dragon had been slain thousands of years ago, his presence was all but gone. Plegia Castle was visible in the distance, sitting atop of the skull of the Fell Dragon. The skull seemed to smile at the Shepherds as they made their way through the Midmire, as if it was taunting them of their failures.

Had it not been for the threat of the Plegian army hot on their trail, the trek through the Fell Dragon's resting place felt to the Shepherds as if they were partaking in the exalt's own funeral procession. The bitter taste of failure hung in the air, leaching off of any positive emotions one might have felt. Each Shepherd moved through the boggy terrain awkwardly with the weight of Emmeryn's final sacrifice on their shoulders. The usual vigor and determination on their faces were lost and replaced with despondent expressions.

Lissa's head drooped, her usual cheerfulness gone as silent streams of tears rolled down her cheeks. Both Frederick and Maribelle tried to console her. The stalwart and usually stone-faced knight himself had a pained and sorrowful expression and every step his mount made seemed to hurt him. Maribelle's curly blonde hair was in shambles and she was also clearly in pain. But she put on a brave face and remained steadfast in comforting her best friend.

Both Sully and Stahl rode uncomfortably on their horses. Sully growled and clenched her spear tight, cursing the entire country of Plegia under her breath. Stahl quivered as he tried his best to calm her down. Virion lost his usual grace and sighed deeply as he trudged through the mud. He became increasingly annoyed as his long blue hair stuck to his face and his clothes became ruined.

Vaike's veil of confidence was shattered and he sniffled and heaved uncontrollably. Miriel still looked as serious as ever, but her intellectual poise stiffened with each step she took. Sumia had tears in her eyes and held her hands to her heart as she looked at Chrom and Lissa with pity and sadness. Cordelia rode next to Sumia; the rain turning her red hair to a darker shade as she tightly gripped the reins of her pegasus, trying to keep herself composed, but visibly holding back tears.

Kellam's usual neutral expression turned even more somber as he slowly receded into his heavy armor like a turtle. Lon'qu dropped his head and turned away from the other Shepherds. Ricken's eyes were wide with fear, he clutched his tome tightly to his chest, looking around frantically for any enemies. He found nothing, but his panicked mind made him hear otherwise. Nowi held his hand and tried to calm him down, but she was shaking herself. Gregor stood behind the two and guided them along, acting like a sort of fatherly figure. He held his sword in his hand, ready to protect them from whatever danger might be out there.

Gaius chewed on his lollipop harshly with a look of disgust etched onto his face. Panne also had a similar scowl on her own face. And even the newest recruits to the Shepherds, Tharja and Libra, walked as somberly as the rest of them did. Tharja had put a cloak over her head and refused to make any eye contact with anybody. And Libra bowed his head and quietly uttered a few prayers.

"Hurry! There should be carriages waiting just through the ravine!" Basilio shouted over the rain.

Chrom stood apart from the rest of the group. He had an intense look on his face and his jaw was set as if he was biting something hard. The downpour continued its assault on the other Shepherds as they trudged uncomfortably through the mud. But the rain didn't seem to faze him. He stood still for a moment, looking back at Plegia Castle within the few times lightning stuck.

"Chrom, please!" Robin begged running over to him. Robin's eyes never left the prince ever since they retreated from Plegia Castle. Although he was wet, tired, and heartbroken like the other Shepherds, all Robin could think about now was ensuring the safety of his friends, especially Chrom and Lissa. Robin looked at him with concern, but Chrom wouldn't face him. His blue hair was soaked like everybody else's and covered his face. The added darkness brought on by the clouds made it difficult for Robin to get a good look at him.

"Rrgh..." Chrom spat out with a slight quiver in his voice. "I'm... I'm coming." Both he and Robin picked up the pace and ran to catch up to the rest of the Shepherds and Basilio as the khan continued to lead them towards their escape. It grew harder and harder to see. The rain continued to beat down on the Shepherds, hammering them further into the muck. Replays of that day were going through everybody's mind: Gangrel's threats of war, Emmeryn's public execution atop of the skull of Grima, the Pegasus Knights's murder at the hand of Risen archers summoned by the dark mage Aversa, and most of all, Emmeryn's sacrifice. Chrom uttered something under his breath as they continued to run through the boggy Midmire.

"Quickly!" Basilio shouted. "We're almost… Huh?" He stopped dead in his tracks as a few Plegian soldiers appeared out of the blue right in front of them, brandishing deadly-looking axes. Just like them, the Plegians were also soaked to the bone. Quite literally in fact as their jagged, animal bone armor contrasted greatly against the dark weather to appear more menacing, much like the skeletalized Midmire itself did. Basilio turned around and saw more coming up from behind them holding similar weapons and wearing similar armor. Although faint, he squinted through the rain and saw the silhouettes of more soldiers coming out of hiding places. Basilio could also hear the familiar screech of wyverns nearby in the distance, indicating that a wyvern brigade was somewhere out there. They were completely surrounded.

He cursed. "Plegians! I knew it wouldn't be that easy." Basilio scowled at the Plegian soldiers standing in front of them. He knew that the Shepherds were too exhausted to continue fighting. He himself, despite being in countless battles over his career, was tired as well. While it wasn't in his blood to turn down a challenge from anybody, he had to swallow his pride considering the circumstances. But unfortunately, Basilio couldn't see any other way out of their current predicament. Unless Robin would spontaneously come up with some miracle, they would have to muscle their way through.

Growling under his breath, Basilio turned back to the Shepherds. "They're in our way!" he shouted. "We gotta fight them off!"

"With pleasure," Chrom snarled while withdrawing Falchion from its sheath, the holy blade shining brilliantly despite reflecting no light from the darkness of the storm. Robin faintly noticed Chrom's reflection in Falchion: his serious expression grew even more rigid, his fists were tightly clenched, knuckles turning white, and his eyes had a look of absolute hatred. Chrom was never one to let his emotions get the better of him. He took his self-control very seriously. He had to, he was their leader.

It scared Robin to see his normally affable friend turn into the complete opposite of himself. But what terrified him the most was that Chrom was beginning to get the same murderous look that Gangrel had in his eyes back at Emmeryn's execution. And now, with a wounded spirit, a blade in his hand, and anger filling his veins, Chrom was going headfirst back into battle.

At the outer edge of the ravine, Basilio's group of caravans lay hidden in the darkness. There were just enough carriages to carry the small militia group of the Shepherds plus their own crew. Thankfully, they were out of sight from any enemies that could potentially notice them, and the sudden thunderstorm provided them with even more camouflage. However, the crew themselves were no more than simple performers. Dancers, gypsies, circus performers, actors, and bards made up the bulk of the group. Regna Ferox's professional armed forces were already knee-deep in combat with Plegian forces. They could not spare a single soldier to help them.

It was a risky move to use a group of amateur soldiers, but it had to do. The Plegian army might not expect anything suspicious out of a simple group of performers traveling through the countryside. Anything that had the smallest possibility of success sounded good at this point. Both Basilio and Flavia knew that when they assembled this group.

The ragtag group of performers were led by a young, pink-haired dancer named Olivia, one of Regna Ferox's finest performers and a good friend of Basilio's. Olivia constantly hurried back and forth between the caravans and the edge of the ravine, keeping checks on the other performers, calming the spooked horses from the sudden thunderstorm, and rechecking to see if they had enough space in the caravans. All the while hoping to see Basilio and the Shepherds emerge from the Midmire so they could make their escape. She was light on her feet and managed to move silently despite the mud and puddles that surrounded her. Unfortunately, her shoes were ruined by her constant movement, filling up with muck and water and coating her feet in the disgusting mixture. The lantern she carried provided little illumination against the growing darkness and downpour brought on by the thunderstorm.

Olivia shivered and held her arms together in a futile attempt to keep warm. One of the other dancers was kind enough to bring her a cloak. It did help shield her from the rain, but it provided no more comfort than a wet towel. Olivia expressed some discomfort from her surroundings and disappointment over her ruined shoes, but they were quickly snuffed as each minute passed, seeing no sign of the khan anywhere.

Her nerves were making her more antsy than ever before. Even worse was that she had recently learned the horrible news of Exalt Emmeryn's death. While Olivia wasn't there to witness it in person, the impact of such an event hit her just as much as if she were. The ruler of their peaceful neighboring country was gone. She felt awful for the prince and princess of Ylisse for losing their sister. And right now she was directly responsible for snuggling them out of enemy territory, no doubt with Plegian soldiers in hot pursuit.

Olivia looked over at the band of performers that accompanied her. She recognized them all as people that she knew from her work as a dancer. They were all incredibly talented at what they did, but still, they were performers. None of them had any combat experience aside from some of the actors who had minimal swordplay training that they learned for theatre performances. Olivia herself could barely hold a sword despite having been trained personally by Basilio.

But here they were, endangering their lives to make sure that the figureheads of both Ylisse and Regna Ferox could escape unharmed. Olivia at first was hesitant to lead such a group. How could she? She had no experience in leading anybody. And in her eyes, she was nothing but a simple dancer from a simple background. How could she be responsible for the lives of all these people? The Khans, the Ylisseans, and her fellow performers. All depending on her.

It was an agonizing decision for Olivia to make. Thinking about the grand scheme of it all made her want to shrink into herself and hide. Or scream. Or even run away. Anything than to literally hold the future of two nations in her hands.

But despite her reservations, Olivia also couldn't help but feel a tiny bit of pride at being assigned this position. Out of all the population of Regna Ferox to choose from, Khan Basilio and Khan Flavia had selected her of all people! Not some decorated general, not a brilliant strategist, not even Lon'qu. It was her. The Khan's trust was not an easy thing to win, Olivia knew this firsthand. So, wanting to prove herself worthy of that trust, she agreed and went along with Flavia and Basilio's plan.

Halfway through her journey though, with the sudden onset of this raging storm, Olivia started to doubt herself again. She walked to the outer edge of the ravine and squinted into the distance. She could see nothing ahead of her. The black void stared right back at her as the rain helped to create a dark, watery abyss. The sound of it pounding down was the only comfort Olivia could take as she stared out in the darkness of the Plegian canyon. Occasionally, lightning would strike and she could briefly see for a moment thanks to the illumination, but all she could see was an open area with giant, skeletalized rock formations in the background. The following roll of thunder also didn't help to calm her nerves either. A pit of ice developed in her stomach as she grew more anxious.

"Khan Basilio, where are you?" she thought.

Suddenly, she heard undecipherable voices and immediately ducked behind a nearby rockpile. Olivia's heart dropped as she slowly looked up and, through the flashing of another lightning strike, saw the defined figures of Plegian soldiers approaching. She put her hands over her mouth and silently gasped.

"Oh gods…"

The Plegian soldiers took position about a few hundred feet in front of Olivia, thankfully not noticing her. They had the standard Plegian military uniform of iron weaponry and bone armor. From what she could see, Olivia assumed that these Plegian soldiers were sent to intercept any survivors from the execution. One by one, more soldiers appeared. They all congregated into an open position and seemed to be discussing something amongst themselves. Although whatever it was, it escaped Olivia as she couldn't listen in due to the combined booming of the rain and thunder.

From the crowd that had gathered, one figure stood out to her: a tall, well-built, bald man with a beard that carried a large battle axe at his leg. He wore no armor other than massive, spiked shoulder pads that were made of bone, stylized much like the other Plegians. But from the way the man carried himself, he seemed to be confident enough that he did not need much to protect himself. His face was the worst part: He had sharp, piercing eyes that were like that of a hawk. The cold, emotionless expression on his face implied that he had no qualms with the daily murder a soldier's job required. And to top it off, a large, ugly scar was etched along the left side of his face, a symbolic accolade of his past victories and brutality. From the looks of it, this man seemed to be the leader of the soldiers. Even though Olivia was safe from her position under the cover of darkness, she felt that he was experienced enough to pick her out from her position with no problem.

However, through another lightning strike when Olivia could take a second look at him, she noticed that there was something off about him. She noticed that the way he carried himself, while still authoritative and intimidating, seemed to suggest that he was winded, almost like he had taken a punch to the gut. She couldn't get a good enough look at his face from her position this time to tell what exactly he was feeling, but the man's body language implied that he did not want to be there. Olivia also noticed that the other soldiers in front of her shared the same uncomfortable posture that their commander had. But whether by close proximity to him or on their own accord, she could not tell.

The man in question looked up to the sky and took a deep breath. Suddenly, his face perked up and he let out a guttural yell. Apparently, he addressed all nearby troops to move out as the group he was a part of started marching off into the canyon, with even more bands of soldiers coming out of the shadows and following him into obscurity. Each figure that disappeared into the darkness went without question, but hesitantly. As if this would be the last time they would see light.

Olivia kept watching the Plegian army advancing into the Midmire until the last soldier was out of sight. Immediately after, she went to warn the other performers what she just saw and told them to stay on alert and prepare to either make a break for it, or fight. Her comrades' eyes widened upon hearing the news, but they understood and quickly went about to brace themselves. They started unsheathing weapons and got the carriages into position to flee. Olivia then returned back to the rock pile from where she was hiding behind before, staring back into the abyss as she continually prayed for this nightmare to end.

More Plegian soldiers kept coming out of seemingly nowhere. In addition to the ones in front of the Shepherds and the wyvern brigade Basilio had noticed before, archers and mages took position on top of the five biggest rock formations. The pathways between them were filled with barbarians, knights, and cavaliers. Gangrel must have planned out this area in advance to keep anybody from leaving the execution alive.

Suddenly, a bearded, bald man with a decently-sized group of soldiers behind him came out of the inner Midmire and addressed the Shepherds directly, yelling loud to be heard over the rain.

"Ylisseans! I offer you mercy! Surrender to me now and live!"

Basilio scoffed at the man, obviously the enemy general, who had just addressed them. "Surrender?" He spat into the ground in distaste. "Sorry, I'm not familiar with the word."

The general sighed. "Emmeryn would not have wished for this to come to bloodshed."

Upon hearing him say that, Chrom immediately stiffened. He darted forward in front of the Shepherds, and glared while he raised Falchion towards the man. "Do not speak her name!" he shouted with venom. Robin flinched upon Chrom's sudden outburst, but the enemy general looked at him with quiet patience. Chrom kept Falchion leveled and seethed through gritted teeth. Robin reached out to put his hand on Chrom's shoulder to calm him down, but the enemy general spoke up again before he could.

"Your rage is justified, Prince Chrom" he said. "But the meaning of your sister's final sacrifice wasn't lost on me. I suspect many Plegians who heard her final words would say the same." He paused briefly before continuing. "If you lay down your weapons, I vow to protect you as best I can."

"How can we trust you after what your barbarous king has done?" Frederick interjected, also glaring at the man, tightly clenching the reins of his horse with barely controlled anger. "I think we shall take our chances with weapons in hand!"

The general sighed again. "I suspected you would say as much," he said disheartenedly, not surprised by their answer. He cracked his knuckles and withdrew the large battleaxe he held at his side. "So be it, Prince Chrom. I shall endeavor to grant you a swift and dignified end." On that note, he turned around to his soldiers. "Men, to arms!"

Upon hearing their general's order, the Plegian soldiers unsheathed their weapons and started to advance towards the Shepherds. The ones directly in front of them closed in on Basilio, but the experienced khan was far too quick for them. He effortlessly dodged their strikes and silenced them permanently with a mighty swing from his axe. Their blood trickled into nearby puddles and turned them to a disgusting shade of red.

"Shepherds! Prepare for battle!" Chrom yelled as he raised Falchion high above his head.

Chaos ensued. Reluctantly, the Shepherds pulled out their weapons and engaged the enemy. Swords clashed against swords, horses struggled to stay balanced in the storm, arrows flew in seemingly random directions, spells illuminated the path of their trajectory, and bodies began to fall to the wet earth. Robin himself took out one of his tomes and kept the Shepherds in line with various tactics and positions he called out for them to form while casting spells of his own.

"He's right," Robin thought to himself in the midst of combat, a Plegian soldier falling at his feet. "Emmeryn wouldn't have wanted for it to come to this."

Olivia was more than well aware of the battle that had just commenced. She saw the enemy general return after a period of time to give out orders to his troops and those soldiers running out to their positions. She couldn't see who they were fighting, but she could hear weapons clashing and battle cries despite the heavy rainfall and guessed that it was most likely Basilio and the Ylisseans. She was amazed that the soldiers could still wield weapons and fight in a muddy ravine while she could barely see two feet in front of her.

But she couldn't focus on the fight too much. Olivia's mind was on overdrive. Her eyes constantly darted back and forth, hoping to catch some glimmer of hope that both Basilio and the Ylisseans were still alive out there. Olivia knew that she shouldn't doubt Basilio's skills in battle. After all, he was one of the khans of Regna Ferox, and a force to be reckoned with at that. And she also knew of the accomplishments of the Ylissean force as well. But she couldn't help but fear for their safety.

"General Mustafa!" All of the sudden, one stray soldier, a young Plegian man who looked to be no older than seventeen years old, approached his general and saluted him. The boy was shaking in place and dropped down his spear at his feet. "F-forgive me, sir," he said trying to sound firm, but his voice cracks suggested otherwise, "but I...I no longer see the justice in hunting these people down". The young soldier took off his helmet and bowed his head in shame. "I accept any punishment you see fit, but after all that's happened...I-I just can't."

A fellow soldier, a wyvern rider, lowered his mount and pointed his axe at his comrade while his wyvern screeched. "How dare you question the general's orders!" he scolded, making the young man tremble in fear. "You know full well the punishment for insubordination is death!" He reared up his wyvern toward the man.

The young soldier put his hands up to his face, trying to defend himself. He stepped back, but tripped and fell down into a puddle. His armor and back were now covered in mud and he shivered in both cold and fear as the wyvern rider moved in. The rider lifted his axe as his wyvern bared its fangs, now less than a foot from the fallen soldier's face.

He was about to close in on him, when his general halted him. The rider dismounted his beast and stood in disbelief as Mustafa helped the fallen soldier to his feet. The man stood there, armor dirty and soaked, and visibly cowering. He was a pathetic sight to look at. A deserter. A disgrace to his country. Why would any self-respecting general hold this man to the same standard as the rest of his troops?

The young man spoke up in a whimper. "B-but sir! These people are-"

Mustafa held up his hand. "These questions are not ours to ponder, lad," he said as a scowl developed on his face. "The soldier does not judge. The soldier delivers judgment."

"Sir, I… I cannot raise my lance against them. Even if...Even if it means death."

Mustafa eyed his soldier curiously and let out a sigh. "...You were there when Emmeryn spoke, weren't you?" he asked, sheathing his axe.

The young soldier nodded. He bowed his head and continued to shake in his armor. Although now, it wasn't because of the cold or fear. The young boy could sense something deeper being awoken inside of him. It was a new feeling for him. He couldn't quite tell what it was, but he felt a strong sense of anticipation for something far greater and more important than anything he could comprehend. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before, but he knew at that very moment that being a soldier was not the right course of action. The young man looked at Mustafa right in the eyes, almost glaring at him. He would stand by his decision even if it meant he would end his life by insubordinating.

Seeing the fire in his soldier's eyes, Mustafa sighed again. He saw that the young man was not unlike what he himself was at that age: idealistic, but hopelessly naïve all the same. His expression softened. "So be it!" he finally spoke, his voice booming louder than usual to address all of his troops in his vicinity. "Those of you unwilling to fight are dismissed!"

All of the nearby soldiers looked at their commander in shock. The young deserter's eyes lost their spark as they widened. "B-but I don't wish to abandon you, sir!" he said in a panic, realizing the consequences of his choice.

"I cannot defy the king, lad," Mustafa said disheartenedly. "I know him well. He would murder my wife and child to set an example. I will accept the blame for your actions today. Now go!"

"W-wait, General!" he said with tears filling his eyes.

"Go before I change my mind and kill you where you stand!" Mustafa suddenly snapped. "This is your only warning. GO!"

The young man stumbled over himself as he ran off from the group. He left behind his helmet and spear and took one final look before vanishing into the canyon. Mustafa stared at the gaping maw of darkness that the boy had run off into. For a moment, it seemed as though he wanted to follow him. But shaking his head, Mustafa instead knelt down and picked up both the spear and helmet the young deserter had left behind. He took a good look at them, presumably to look for any means of identification.

The rider remained silent throughout the conversation between his general and the deserter. He couldn't begin to believe that a man of his position would allow such a thing to happen. He thought of his general as a strong, unfeeling man ready to deliver judgment rather than judge like he said earlier. Out of everybody enlisted in the Plegian infantry, it was General Mustafa who was the most decorated and professional. He should have known better than to let a deserter go unpunished.

But now he saw a different person standing in front him. The way this man's head was bent as he examined the deserter's weapons made it seem like he were in prayer. Instead of wearing a face of iron and wielding his weapon as his gavel, he had a somber, doubtful look on his face and his axe hung weakly by his side. The rain seemed to hammer him into the mud and quite clearly was bothering him. This man seemed ready to fall at any moment. Yet, just like the deserting soldier before him, he had the indistinguishable fire in his eyes. Apparently, it was highly infectious as the rider was preoccupied in thought until Mustafa turned to him.

"Well then? Are you going to leave too?" Mustafa questioned him.

The rider was caught off-guard at first, but shook his head. Mustafa looked at him somberly. "Very well." He put a hand on the rider's shoulder. "Now listen here, I expect the Ylisseans will be here in a short while." The rider looked at him with panic, but Mustafa remained calm and kept speaking. "I shall be going back to base for the time being. Our men need me there now more than ever. I want you to go out ahead and intercept the Ylisseans with the main force as best as you can. But if you feel the need, I have no qualms if you or anybody else leaves. You are dismissed." Mustafa gave the soldier one last look, then broke off into a jog, hurrying back to the fortress they had captured beforehand.

The rider was left there only with only his wyvern as company. He patted the beast on the snout as it growled with pleasure. Thinking back on what his general had both commanded and offered him, the rider swiftly decided that he wasn't going to abandon a man like Mustafa. Unlike King Gangrel who ruled through fear and was secretly hated by most under his subjugation, General Mustafa earned and deserved the respect and admiration of his men. To run away from somebody like him and leave him to potentially meet his end at the enemy was a cowardly move. The rider still scorned the deserter soldier who abandoned the battlefield. Hopefully, he would meet his end by a Ylissean's sword for all he cared.

Still, the way the young man had defied the very authority of Plegia itself made him think twice. Maybe Exalt Emmeryn had a point when she foolishly jumped off that cliff. He didn't like the way King Gangrel seemed to bask in her death; it made him sick to his stomach. But his loyalty was to Mustafa, who was loyal to Plegia, which unfortunately was underneath Gangrel's boot. Thinking about it, the traitor's reasoning for leaving was, he hated to admit it, justified.

If it meant living with a war-obsessed tyrant as a leader, perhaps the glory of Plegia meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. Who in their right mind would follow somebody like him? No wonder Exalt Emmeryn had jumped, she didn't want to give him the pleasure of killing her! How ironic that her last moments were spent comforting her enemies rather than her own people. She pitied them!

Although, now that he thought about it, maybe that was the point. From what little he knew about Ylisse's history, he remembered that they were not unlike Plegia was now a few decades ago: hyperfocused on conquest and having no qualms for war if necessary. Maybe Exalt Emmeryn realized her nation, and her father in that regard, were wrong. He remembered what Emmeryn had said to the Plegian citizens: they had to free themselves rather than to perpetuate the cycle of war. At first, he thought she was simply pleading with them to stop killing her people. But perhaps she saw Plegia making the same mistakes as her country did long ago?

The rider sighed. This was too much for him to think about right now. He felt heavy rain pouring down on both him and his wyvern. He scratched his beast a second time. Like his general, he began to feel uncomfortable. That very same fire that both the deserter and Mustafa had possessed was starting to awaken in him too. He was not quite sure what it was, but whatever it was, he couldn't put it into words how insurmountable it felt.

Suddenly he heard the loud screeching of wyverns and battle cries of their handlers nearby, informing him that his formation was on the move. His own wyvern called back to the group and seemed eager to go back to its own kind. So the rider hopped onto his beast, gave it a final pat on the head, and soared to the darkened sky. The nagging thoughts were still present, but he forced himself to push them into the back of his mind. He could think about this later. Right now, his general needed him.

Chrom led the assault himself, making short work of any Plegian that came his way. Cutting, slashing, and parrying like an animal. His whole team almost didn't need to do anything. Chrom took down barbarians, berserkers, wyverns and their riders, archers, mages, and even the lone looters all on his own without a hint of lethargy. While the rain and boggy terrain had made it awkward for the other Shepherds to traverse across the landscape, much less fight, Chrom didn't seem to be slowed down. All throughout, Chrom's face never dropped that murderous scowl he developed.

Basilio fought next to him on the front line with Sully and Vaike backing both him and the prince up and continued to fight just as animalistic as Chrom as he hacked his way through the Plegian force. But unlike the prince, he had control over his emotions.

Robin sought to keep the group together and piled everybody close to each with an arm's length of space for extra protection and to prevent anybody from getting lost in the canyon. While this made them potentially easy to spot out and their progress slower than he would have liked, especially since he did not know if enemy reinforcements were coming, it ensured that he could keep a close eye on everybody and prevent anybody else from dying today.

Cordelia and Sumia took to the skies to report enemy positions to Robin. Thankfully, the rain provided them with cover from enemy archers, but it also made their job tougher as the rain was a major obstacle for not only being able to see and their pegasuses to be able fly through, but also psychologically as they did not know if they could be ambushed at any time. Not to mention that enemy wyvern riders were a very dangerous threat and if it wasn't for the support provided by Robin, Miriel, Ricken, and Virion, they would be in big trouble. Lissa and Maribelle stood in the middle of the group and healed anybody as soon as they so much had a scratch. Kellam protected them from every angle, and for once, everybody saw him.

Robin casted a wind spell at an approaching wyvern while Virion shot an arrow at the rider. The beast's wings were violently torn apart by the spell as it plummeted toward the ground, unable to fly anymore. It landed with a sickening thud, right on top of its rider, who let out a muffled scream before going quiet. Lon'qu silently, but lethally took out the legs of the horses of enemy cavaliers. The beasts staggered and fell to the ground, causing their riders fall into the mud, sometimes breaking bones in the process. Shortly after, they were greeted with a lance in their chest from either Frederick or Stahl.

A few barbarians approached the group and got within arms reach of Ricken, but both Gregor and Nowi protected him with their sword and reinforced dragonhide respectively. Gregor immediately let out a war cry and slashed the throat of one barbarian while stabbing another in the chest within seconds of one another. Nowi let loose a gigantic breath of fire and set the last one on fire. The man cried out as he was burnt alive, the dragonfire unable to be put out by pure rain alone. He staggered to his knees in a hopeless attempt to stop, drop, and roll and finally fell over. The smell of his corpse would not leave Ricken's mind for the rest of his years.

Mages and archers from on top of the rock formations were dealt with quickly due to the huge danger they posed to Sumia and Cordelia. In addition to Virion's archery, Libra and Vaike both threw tomahawks and throwing axes that snuffed them out in no time flat. With each person that fell, Libra's face grew increasingly more sullen. His continued prayers for both Naga's forgiveness and guidance were not lost on the Shepherds.

A stray knight that had engaged both Gaius and Panne in combat had proved difficult for them to take down due to his heavy armor. Gaius was unable to land a decisive hit on him despite his speed advantage and Panne, quite capable of breaking an unarmored opponent's neck easily, was unable to do much as scratch him with her claws. Just as the knight brought his lance around to swing at Panne, he stopped mid-swing. The knight stood there for a second, then suddenly gurgled as if he was choking on something, and finally fell face first into the ground. Gaius and Panne looked at each other in confusion before looking back to the knight and were shocked to find just an empty pile of bloody armor and an equally bloody lance; there was no body in sight. A small giggle from Tharja that came behind them told them all they needed to know.

Suddenly, amidst the fighting, a barbarian broke the line of defense. Kellam immediately brought himself in front of both Lissa and Maribelle, but the barbarian completely ignored them and made a beeline toward Robin, who had been recovering from casting spells moments ago. Robin quickly dodged one swing and backed up, but he lost his balance and fell backwards into a large puddle. Coughing and shivering, he brought himself up to his knees and drew his sword, but the berserker swung his axe downward before he could do anything.

Robin gritted his teeth and prepared for the worst, when out of nowhere, Chrom blocked the blow and deflected the battle axe away. Bringing his sword around, Chrom punched the man in the face with the hilt. The barbarian cursed and staggered backwards while holding his face in pain, his nose broken and dripping blood. Chrom lifted Falchion and silenced him completely with one swipe of the blade.

"Get up, Robin," he said to him immediately after finishing off the barbarian, not even offering a hand.

Robin staggered to his feet, helped up by both Lissa and Frederick.

"You okay?" Lissa asked him.

"Y-yeah," Robin replied, still winded. "I'm fine." Robin rubbed the back of his head and winced. He wasn't wounded thankfully, but his cloak was now covered in muck and would need a wash. But that had to wait. Shaking off his close encounter, Robin turned to Frederick. "Frederick," he addressed the knight, "I hate to ask this of you, but would you mind looking after Chrom for me? Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."

Frederick grimaced. "I've been doing that long before I even met you," he said stoically, but he got back up on his horse and rushed straight to Chrom's side. Robin and Lissa watched him go as Robin stopped to catch his breath.

"Robin," Lissa whispered nervously to him, "I'm worried about Chrom."

"I am too," Robin sighed. "He's not acting like himself at all."

"He doesn't even seem to look like the Chrom that I know."

"I know what you mean." Robin pointed to Chrom. "Look at his stance. You see how he's carrying himself? The way he's holding onto his sword tightly? That's not how you should be holding a blade. Whenever he attacks, his strikes are overly aggressive and uncontrolled. It's very predictable, exhausting, and unsafe. For somebody who's been trained in swordfighting all his life like Chrom, he should know better than to use such a reckless technique."

Lissa eyed her brother cautiously. "Oh gods. I've never seen him act this way before. It honestly scares me. I hope he doesn't do anything that gets him hurt."

Robin smirked bitterly. "That's why he's got Frederick riding on his back now. But-" he sighed, "I don't know how much he's going to be able to hold Chrom back. That look in his eyes sends chills down my spine."

"He's breaking down," Lissa said.

Robin looked at her, confused. "What do you mean?"

"He's suffering," she replied sadly, tears coming to her eyes. "E-Emm's," Lissa stopped herself for a moment, "...death...hit him hard. S-same as me. But for him, not only did he lose his sister, being the next in line to the throne, he now he has to live up to her legacy. Knowing Chrom, I bet he feels unworthy to live up to somebody like her. Especially i-if...h-he couldn't…" That was all she could say. Lissa feel to her knees and broke down crying. Robin caught her in a hug. Maribelle, who was keenly listening in to their conversation, also came to console her best friend.

"I-I'm sorry, Lissa darling," Maribelle said, trying to be as comforting as she could. "But don't you worry about your brother. Milord is a very strong man. After all," she said nudging Lissa with her elbow, "it runs in the family. I have no qualms that he will become an Exalt worthy of the title. He just needs time to heal."

Robin nodded his head in agreement. "Lissa, I know how hard it is for you right now. Believe me, we're all in pain. But right now, we're not in a very good place. We have to get to the convoys as quickly as we can. But we will definitely address Chrom later," he said, looking to the man in question. "He needs our help now more than ever."

From what it looked like, a majority of the Plegian force had been neutralized. Which was welcome news to the Shepherds, having been all but drained from the terrible trek through the Midmire. They moved deeper into the canyon, the darkness became worse as the rock piles were now so high that the sky was blocked out by them. The constant precipitation also caused some sections of the ravine to flood. Landslides were now a very dangerous possibility and Basilio secretly hoped that Olivia had not picked a spot where she and the others would be swept away by one.

As they moved forward, they occasionally found and dispatched the stray Plegian soldier. But surprisingly, most soldiers they encountered seemed unwilling to fight and ran away at the sight of them. Not just to get away from such a large group of enemies, but they dropped their weapons and stripped themselves of their armor and any spare belongings as they ran away from the battlefield, as if they were deserting. Not that it mattered to Chrom, as the prince insisted on fighting every single soldier he encountered. Had it not been for Frederick keeping him in check, there was no doubt that Chrom would have ran into the darkness by himself and have gotten lost. Or worse.

Just as the path they were taking seemed endless, and it seemed that the Midmire had done its job swallowing them, they approached a fortified fortress at what seemed like the end of the ravine. Its appearance earned sighs of relief from the exhausted Shepherds. A couple of Plegian soldiers guarded the entrance. But upon seeing their enemy approaching in vast numbers, they wisely retreated into the safety of the fortress. Both Chrom and Basilio cursed under their breath, but for different reasons. Robin stepped forward to calmly address the situation.

"Khan Basilio," he said, "Where are the caravans?". Robin had to speak up more due to the deafening sound of the downpouring rain. Although he felt it was okay since this meant that any potential Plegian soldiers could not overhear him.

"They should be over there." Basilio gestured as ambiguously as he could in the direction behind the fort that led out of the Midmire. "But I think it's best if we eliminate the threat entirely before making our escape. If we don't, they could easily call for backup and gang up on us. We'd stand no chance if all our asses are crammed in flimsy wooden carriages."

Robin didn't like that idea at all. Especially after looking at Chrom and seeing the evil glint in his eyes reappear. But the khan had a point. As much as Robin wanted to stop needlessly fighting, it was important to neutralize the threat. They were still knee-deep in Plegian territory. Reinforcements were a very deadly possibility.

Those Plegian soldiers from earlier no doubt told their chain of command of their approach. If they could snuff out the problem from the head down, then they would be safe for the time being. Plus, even if the Plegians had called for reinforcements, the Shepherds could utilize this fortress for defense if they were able to capture it. Tactically, he felt it was the best decision to make considering the circumstances, even if it was a hard pill to swallow.

Nodding to the khan, Robin sent Gaius to silently scope out the fortress. Upon returning, he reported that the fort was noticeably diminutive, but had four Plegian soldiers in the courtyard, two barbarians, an archer, and the general. No other soldiers were around, the walls were unfortified, and the building was in poor condition: dilapidated, and growing mold. Surprised at the detailed report, Robin pressed him further, wanting to understand how he knew so much.

Gaius looked down to the ground and rubbed the back of his head. "I, uh...may have been spotted" he said, smiling shyly. Robin's eyes widened. Seeing the worried look on his face, Gaius continued. "But it was weird. The big guy we saw earlier is in there, and he just seemed to pick me out of the dark when I swear that I was hidden. But he didn't bind me up, have his men hold me down, or anything. He just let me go, told me all of what I told you, and said to bring Blue over to him." Gaius looked up through his damp red hair. "I think he wants to challenge him personally."

Lissa, Frederick, and Robin all shot each other nervous glances.

"Milord..." Frederick spoke up, but said nothing more.

"Chrom-" Lissa started, putting her hand on Chrom's shoulder. But he tore away and started to advance silently, but quickly into the fort.

"Chrom, wait!" Robin called as he ran to catch up. The other Shepherds followed closely behind him. This certainly would not end well.

Upon entering the fortress, the Shepherds were greeted to the sight of the enemy general they saw before alongside two other soldiers at his side in the middle of the open courtyard that had seemed to have been in ruin for quite some time. The general stepped forward and gestured to his two soldiers to back off as he withdrew his battle axe from his side. He then looked straight at Chrom.

"I am General Mustafa of Plegia," he said calmly, but with conviction. "If you wish to keep your lives, then you must win them!"

With protest from all of his Shepherds and Basilio from behind him, Chrom stepped forward and withdrew Falchion from its sheath. Casually, Mustafa swung his battle axe around in a display of confidence. Chrom did not back down, though, and kept calm, which would have been normal for him, but was now unheard of. Both men eyed each other, sizing one another up. They stood still, breathing slowly.

Suddenly, Chrom rushed forward with an animalistic yell, reaching the Mustafa in under two seconds. Mustafa's eyes widened as he barely managed to deflect Chrom's blow. Seeing as he now had the advantage, Chrom advanced forward and continually slashed at Mustafa. He did not allow Mustafa to go on the offensive once as his energy, lung capacity, and rage seemed endless. Mustafa himself had to constantly back up just so he could keep up with the raging prince, grunting and feeling his muscles burn after barely blocking each blow.

As much as he hated to admit it, Mustafa was not prepared for this fight. Despite his experience, he had assumed that this would have been settled in an honorable duel with as little fighting as possible. However, it seemed Chrom had other ideas as he unleashed a barrage of strikes at Mustafa's chest, only to be blocked by his axe. Mustafa had hoped to tire out the prince so he could gain the advantage again. But feeling his muscles almost give way with every blow from the Ylissean prince, he doubted that he could keep up for long. It was at that moment when he noticed the evil glint in Chrom's eyes, just like Robin had prior. Mustafa disturbingly noted that it was the same one that King Gangrel had earlier today when he had threatened to murder Mustafa's wife and child if he did not prove his loyalty. Seeing that made him afraid for the very first time in a while.

Both Mustafa's men and the Shepherds held their breath as they watch the duel. Mustafa's men gradually backed as far away as they could from the Shepherds as if they feared they would be just as vicious as Chrom. Although they had nothing to worry about as the Shepherds, Lissa, Robin, and Frederick especially, were absolutely stunned at the level of brutality Chrom was displaying. Both sides feared for what was to come.

All of the sudden, Mustafa let out a cry of pain. Chrom had managed to score a hit on Mustafa's hand that had been holding his axe as a shield. Said axe fell out of his hands to the ground. Seeing an opening, Chrom immediately let loose all inhibitions and started hacking away at the now defenseless man before him. At that moment, Mustafa regretted that he was only wearing shoulder pads made of bone as they splinted before Falchion and imbedded into his body. With each new cut to his raw flesh, he felt all of his nerves simultaneously alight as hot cascades of blood spurted out of his veins. He screamed in agony.

Immediately, his two men ran to his aid. However, Chrom turned to them, almost instinctually, and started to run towards them. The expression on his face was similar to a bear sow as he raised Falchion high above his head, ready to lay waste the two terrified men.

"NO!"

Startled, Chrom stopped himself mid-swing. Robin ran up to him, swatted Falchion out of Chrom's hands, and wrapped his arms around him to restrain the man. Chrom resisted at first, but then gradually calmed down. He stood still for a moment, Robin noting that Chrom's expression turned from one of bloody anger to confusion. After he took just one breath, Chrom felt all the adrenaline and energy leave his body and almost doubled over. Robin stopped him from falling, helping him down to the ground slowly.

They turned around and were stunned to see that Mustafa had miraculously picked himself up from the bloody pulp that he was on the ground. Mustafa's men took the opportunity of Robin's interruption to run to their commanding officer, one on either side, shirtless as they had taken off their under armor to use as makeshift bandages. Mustafa stood on one knee, hunched over, with a look for fear on his face. But upon seeing that the prince no longer had any malice intentions, he let himself relax. He shot up and winced as the adrenaline he built up gave way to the pain that covered his body.

It didn't take long for Chrom to calm down to the point where he was back to his old self. But upon taking a close look at the physical damage he inflicted upon this man, as well as the aghast and disgusted looks of both his Shepherds and Mustafa's men, Chrom gasped. He was absolutely horrified that he had caused so much pain to an honorable, innocent man. Chrom immediately crumpled to the ground, tearing at his hair as he let out a cry that jolted everybody, including Mustafa himself.

Robin tried to help Chrom up, but the prince was inconsolable. He drudged his face deep into the muddy ground as if he was trying to suffocate himself. Finally though, he relented as he was helped up by Robin as well as Lissa, Sumia, and Frederick. Although he still wouldn't meet any of their eyes.

Mustafa, though in a grave state, couldn't help but let out a smile at the care that Chrom's comrades had for him. While he wished that the circumstances that led for them to meet were better, he knew at that moment that Prince Chrom and his company were good people. And that the future between his country and theirs would be a bright one. Unfortunately, it did not look like he would live to see it. But hopefully, he thought at the back of his head, that traitorous young bastard that deserted would. He was a good kid...

Mustafa coughed bitterly. Which made Chrom and the group of Shepherds around him look up.

"I am...beaten. Well done Ylisseans," he said as he drew his final breath, his last thoughts being of his wife, child, and his troops. "Please...spare my men…"

Olivia had noticed that the heavy combat sounds and yelling had stopped a while ago. Not that it made any difference on her nerves as now she feared that Khan Basilio and the Ylisseans had gotten captured. Or worse.

The ever feeling of dread did not leave her until she heard a large group approaching in the distance. At first, she feared it was the Plegians. But after spotting the large, familiar figure of the khan leading the group, the wave of relief that she felt would have put world-ending floods to shame. She popped out of her hiding place and ran over to greet them.

"Khan Basilio!"

"Olivia!" he exclaimed, surprised at how disgruntled she looked. "I'm sorry we kept you waiting."

"When I didn't hear from you, I thought...I assumed the worst," she said, relieved to see that he was unharmed. She looked at the two men that were on either side of Basilio. One of them was a dark-eyed, blue-haired youth that had the Mark of Naga on his right shoulder, signifying him as Ylissean royalty. His eyes were downcast and seemed to be barely holding his composure. The other person was another young man with white hair and wearing a dark cloak with the hood over his head, although not covering his face. His eyes were wild, and he kept looking back at the blue-haired man in obvious concern.

"Chrom? Robin?" Basilio said, addressing the two men, "Meet Olivia. She'll be smuggling us out of here." He pointed to the caravans behind her.

"Only if you hurry!" Olivia said, looking around them worriedly. "Doubtless more of the Mad King's men are on their way."

Basilio nodded. "Right. Pile in, you lot! And bid farewell to this Plegian hellhole."

Immediately, the caravan crew worked as fast as possible to get the Shepherds onboard. They were stockpiled into the tiny caravans like fish. They were sorted strategically, with the most important members placed into the middle caravan with the others in the front and back caravans. The Shepherd members who wore heavy armor had no time to change out, having no choice but to wear it throughout the trip. As soon as the Shepherds hit the floor, the caravan crew threw all sorts of cover over them: blankets, clothing, shoes, miscellaneous goods, anything to hide and not draw attention to them.

The Shepherd's horses were stripped of their armor to avoid identification and strapped to a caravan. Thankfully, the horses were cooperative, seemingly aware of their situation. Pegasai were forced to fly back to Ylisstol without their handlers, relying on instinct to find their way back. A few members of the caravan crew were kind enough to offer the Shepherds towels, food, and water for the journey ahead.

As soon as things were in working order, the caravan crew all jumped into their assigned caravans. Olivia herself ran around the caravans one last time, taking extra care to ensure everything was in order. Once she was satisfied, she practically dove into the middle caravan and slapped the side of it, signaling the driver to ride. The driver responded with a loud yell, signaling the other drivers, and whipped the horses. The horses began to rear up, and the caravans started to move.

"Ready? Hold on tight!" Olivia said to the people in her caravan: Basilio, Chrom, Lissa, Frederick, and Robin. There was not much to grab onto considering the Shepherds were on the floor, underneath piles of junk, but they somehow managed to stay in place as the caravans flew out of the Midmire. The wind howling was even more pronounced as rain pelted the inside of the caravans, but thankfully did not hit anybody due to the junk pile.

The shaking and bumping of the caravans as they rode across a now rocky road did not help to ease the tension of their close escape. Throughout the whole period of riding back to Regna Ferox, nobody spoke a word. Nor could they see each other as the piles of junk that hid them masked everybody's presence, making the ride feel very lonely. Even after the rain eventually stopped, it did little to brighten anybody's spirits. All it did was remind them of the painful time they had spent fighting in vain in the graveyard of the Fell Dragon.

During the trip back, everybody had time to further reflect upon the disaster that was Emmeryn's failed rescue mission. Most of the Shepherds tried to hold back their emotions so as to not give themselves away. However, that did not stop a select few from doing so anyway. For the most part, their grief had been put on hold to focus on escaping from Plegia. But now that they had a moment to breathe, the grim reality of their situation hit them like a spiked club to the face.

Emmeryn was truly gone. They had failed her. And they had failed all of Ylisse.

A/N: Hello! I'd like to thank you for taking the time to read this. I really appreciate it. As you already guessed from the title, this fic is based on the (potential) relationship between Robin and Olivia from Fire Emblem: Awakening. I realize it doesn't seem like it at first, but that is because I wanted to make this piece a bit more dramatic and detailed rather than short and all fluff. Life has it's serious and depressing moments that make the happy ones all the more special. Partners need to put in a lot of work, have patience, sometimes make sacrifices, and show no small sum of gratitude in order for them to truly blossom into loving relationships. I hope to emphasize all of that in this fic, and I hope I can make something great out of it that you will enjoy. I promise you that those fluffy sections will come if you're into that (no lemons though, sorry). We just need to get started on a rather gloomy tone because Olivia is recruited in the game during a grim time for the Shepherds.

As you may have noticed, this fic is formatted after the "100 theme challenge". I chose to do this way because I don't feel that I have the patience, nor ability, to create an original story out of Awakening's plot without compromising key details and not staying true to the source material. I understand that creating one hundred topics while wanting to include as many little details as possible is a big uptaking, possibly insane. But I intend to deliver because I love this pairing, these characters, and this game so much that I want to do them justice. Plus, this is good writing practice for me since I am not a creative person by nature. I apologize in advance for inevitably skipping around this game's plot too much. I hope it is not too bad.

Also, I don't plan on altering the original game's storyline all that much. So that means no modern AUs, no OCs, nothing of that sort. The most I would do to change things up would be to provide small miscellaneous background information about characters or events that Awakening does not elaborate on, or use concepts like the Future Past DLC to provide "what if?" scenarios.

For what I plan to do in the future, I am not sure that I can stick to a consistent schedule as university, work, friends, and family will keep me busy. But rest assured that I will try to meet demand for new chapters. In fact, I already have a few other themes done and on the backlog in case I am not able to write for long periods of time.

As a final note, I want you all to keep in mind that this is the first fic that I have ever written. That means if you think anything feels off to you, feel free to rip me a new one. I can't stand bad fanfictions just like everybody else. Lord knows what I'd do if mine becomes that bad. I want to create flowing, entertaining, and compelling narratives that I can be proud of, and hopefully that you all can enjoy. Basically, if you think my writing sucks, tear me a new one. But if you like it, thank you! That means I'm doing something right. I greatly appreciate any feedback that I get.

Well, I think that's enough from me. Please feel free to contact me if you want to chat! I'd love to get to know you all. If you made it this far, thanks for reading this! I promise that not all of my author's notes will be this long. I hope you enjoy, MSV!

- KeziaVolition