A Fatal Mistake
Sully, Fire Emblem Fates
Non-con, decapitation, bukkake, impalement
Based off of Veiled616's art of Sully. Hopefully it lives up to such legendary work!

XXX

Robin’s strategy is simple; send highly skilled and mobile Shepherds to hold key passes, harrying the approach of Plegian reinforcements while the bulk of the Ylissean force fights the main Plegian force in the area. Of course, “hold” is used loosely, by no means does the tactician expect the a single Shepherd to hold an entire pass on their own, but through hit and run tactics and intimidation, they should at least be able to hold the enemy back, allowing their comrades precious time to fight the Plegians that have already taken the field.

Naturally, Sully is one of Robin’s first choices. The Ylissean knight is incredibly skilled, with years of training under her belt. Beyond that, she has experience in the field, and often holds her own against multiple opponents from horseback, using a potent combination of lance and sword. With the highest of trust, the tactician sends her to one of four passes. Frederick, Stahl, and Tharja (not quite as mobile as the other three, her fearsome hexes and other dark magics more than make up the deficit) to the other passes, reserving the rest of the Shepherds for the battle at hand.

XXX

Sully isn’t exactly happy about her assignment. Sure, it shows that Robin has a great deal of trust in her, but it also keeps her away from the front lines. Routing a group of Plegian militia that may or may not even use the pass she’s assigned to seems like a waste of her talents. She has enough faith in Robin to stick to the task, of course, but she plans on giving the tactician a piece of her mind when they all join back up after the battle. It's only a matter of time before this riff-raff is history, especially considering the very reinforcements Sully is guarding against are mostly conscripted from the general Plegian citizenship.

Farmers and merchants that meet once or twice a year for “military drills” could never stand against professionally trained soldiers like Sully or her fellow Shepherds, and the cavalier is quite confident of her superiority. She stands in a narrow clearing, with treacherous cliffs blocking either side. Behind her is the battleground the Plegian forces chose to make their stand, and ahead is one of the few passes through the surrounding mountains. If the Plegian's are counting on reinforcements, it's likely they'll have to get through Sully first.

Still, there's no sign of movement on either horizon. The redhead stretches, standing beside her trusted steed and steeling herself for whatever may come. Her armor and the ornamentations of her lance are a vibrant red, perfectly matching her fiery hair, and years of training have given her a perfectly toned body. A body which, when coupled with her sharp instincts, is renowned for its lethality on the field of battle.

For now, however, she can't help but feel wound up. Pacing, stretching, occasionally taking a drink from her waterskin… nothing takes the edge off, as she waits for a foe who may never come. After what feels like an eternity, however, she hears voices echoing off the cliffs. Sound carries far up here, but Sully still feels her heart begin to race. Finally! Some action!

XXX

The knight mounts her horse quickly, settling into her saddle with practiced ease. With a quick spur of her heels, she guides her steed towards the voices, eager to rout them as soon as possible. She doesn’t even consider waiting around a second longer, or perhaps seeking out a vantage point. It’s not like Plegian militia would stand a chance against her, either way.

And, sure enough, as soon as they are in her sight, Sully can’t help but snort in derision. A squadron makes its way through the pass, though their marching formation hardly earns them any sort of respect. The farmers-turned-soldiers are loosely packed, clumping up into whatever friend groups they may have rather than holding to a square formation. Eyeing the wide spaces between each group, the way the inexperienced men bunch up, Sully begins to revel in how easy this will be.

Instead of slowing her mount’s approach, she spurs it on harder, driving the beast up to incredible speed. She feels wind rushing past her, as she bears down on the enemy troops, lance parallel to the ground, already seeking out her first targets. Already, she’s wondering how surprised Robin and the other Shepherd’s will be, when she returns victorious, completely crushing a group that wholly outnumbers her.

The first to notice her approach is a Plegian captain, the poor soldier tasked with maintaining some semblance of order in a group of poorly trained riffraff. Unfortunately for him, he is the only trained soldier in the bunch, and the only one with any experience of battle under his belt. Needless to say, his cry of warning is not heeded. The steady hoof-falls of Sully’s mount serve only to confuse the Plegian militia, who expected no real opposition until they reach the battle itself.

Before they can react, her lance has claimed several of their number, finding their vitals with deadly precision. The troops watch in horror as friends, brothers, and cousins are claimed left and right. As they all hail from the same general areas, this red, mounted opponent quickly raises their ire. What was once a minor inconvenience, a far off battle they wanted no part in, is now a bloodbath claiming some of their closest friends. Yet their lack of training and Sully’s mounted advantage make any attempt at striking back useless.

The captain tries desperately to rally his troops, to draw them in to make a stand, but his orders go unheeded. Meanwhile, Sully makes pass after pass, claiming more of their number each time. The exhilaration she feels reaches an almost fever-pitch. It’s thrilling, cutting down men who would likely look down on her if they had seen her before this engagement.

“Come on, you lot of cowards! You sure as hell can’t outrun her, so you might as well try to fight!” the captain bellows, and the intensity of his words, along with the obvious truth behind them, is finally enough to spur his inexperienced troops into motion. They begin to fall in together, but even this is not enough to deter Sully.

Instead, she sets her sights on the captain himself. Sure, he’s likely experienced, but he’s still one soldier. If she takes him down, what little resolve this band of fools has grown will crumple in an instant. So, as her steed reaches its top speed, the rush of the wind pushes her on. She grows closer, closer, scoffing at the poor stance of her opponent. He must not be experienced after all, holding his lance in such a sloppy fashion. The shaft of the heavy spear is dragging the ground, almost as if he can’t support the weight on his own.

Sully grows even more confident, surging forward with reckless abandon, eager to end this little skirmish and return to the main force of the Shepherds. As she approaches the captain, her lance trained at the opening just above his breastplate, she smirks. Of course, none of them stood a chance against a knight like her. But when her lance should be rending the flesh of his neck, it meets only empty air. At the last second, the captain rolls to the side, dodging her furious charge.

In her confidence, Sully failed to notice one crucial detail. The lance her opponent held had no need of his grip, as he had forced it into the earth, bracing it at an angle. The momentum of her mount is too great, even if Sully had noticed, and now it is far too late. The lance pierces the breast of her horse, causing the great beast to scream in terror, its momentum snapping the shaft of the lance easily.

Of course, with the remainder of the weapon buried deep in its vitals, this does the beast no good. It manages a few shuddering gallops forward, before losing its footing. Sully has no time to react, as her mount pitches forward, throwing her from her saddle. In her shock, she loses grip of her own lance, and it tumbles away from her, embedding its tip in the earth. Then, it is her turn to crash against the earth, hearing a concerning crack as she does,

“Ughh…” she groans, dazed by her impact with the ground. It takes her only a second to come to her senses, knowing that she has no time to spare, surrounded by enemies as she is. She gets her feet beneath her, pushing herself up, relieved to find she is largely unharmed, beyond a few scrapes or bruises. A quick glance down, however, reveals a crack in one of the seams of her armor, greatly compromising her breastplate. Not that she has time to worry about that, as the captain and his militia close in. Sully draws her sword, confident with her skill on foot just as she was on horseback.

But confidence can’t do much against overwhelming numbers. She manages to cut down several more Plegians as they approach, but eventually one lands a kick to the back of her knee, forcing her down. Still, she slashes at her opponents’ legs, until one finally manages to knock the blade from her hand. Disarmed, surrounded, and forced to her knees, Sully finally slows her struggles.

“Damn! Can’t believe you bastards bested me…” she mutters, seeking the face of the man who outsmarted her among the numerous survivors. Of course, by the time she spots him, she’s filled with worry over the intense hatred emanating from each and every man she’s left alive. “Guess you’ve got one hell of a prisoner now, huh?”

“You could say that,” the captain says, glaring down at her. “You caused us a lot of trouble, you know. Surprised to find you’re so cute, now that you’re not careening up and down the field.”

“Oh gods, spare me that crap,” Sully answers, shaking her head.

“I won’t be ‘sparing’ you anything, considering how little mercy you showed the men under my command. As you can probably guess, a lot of the men you didn’t kill were somewhat close to those you did. And they want a bit of revenge,” the captain says, and Sully’s eyes fill with rage nearly matching those of the survivors. It’s not hard to pick up on his implications. “I might just let them loose their frustrations on you.”

“And harm a prisoner? You Plegian’s are dogs, you know that?” Sully says, spitting the word Plegian.

“King Gangrel made one thing abundantly clear;” the captain says, :we are to take no prisoners.”

Sully’s heart drops at those words. She knew that her mistake would cost her dearly, but… her life? Is that truly what this man is implying? It’s unbelievable, but the bloodlust in his eyes is impossible to deny. One quick glance is enough to remind her that the same lust shines in the eyes of all his troops. And suddenly, his boot is pressed against her chest, kicking sharply and forcing her onto her back.

“Do your worst,” Sully says, trying to sound tougher than she feels. “You’ll not get the pleasure of seeing me beg.”

“I don’t really care if you beg or not,” he says, motioning for one of his men to grab her wrists. “It’ll feel the same either way.”

And with that threat, he works a dagger free from his belt, and begins cutting away at the tight, black cloth of her shorts. It makes quick work of the fabric, and the sudden cool air on the flesh of her cunt is enough to send a shiver down her spine. Then, the captain works his cock free from his trousers, and spits onto his hand, before working the saliva onto himself.

“What are you-” Sully starts, but it takes him no time at all to push himself onto her. He lines his cock up with her bare entrance, and forces the tip into her. His saliva is a very poor lubricant, and Sully hurts as he pushes his way into her. With his men jeering all around him, it takes the captain no time at all to force his entire length into her virgin body. Sully groans, the pain forcing her words away, as she begins to wish that lance had pierced her chest, rather than that of her mount.

He falls into a rough rhythm, showing her no mercy as he uses her body as a plaything. Fucking her eagerly, with no abandon, relishing each whimper he draws out of the fit woman. All he can think of is how unstoppable she seemed, how confident, as she rode across the battlefield, and compare that to how she is now; forced onto her back, completely helpless as he rapes her. The thought spurs him on, making it difficult to hold back, until finally he reaches his climax. With a grunt, he comes, his seed spilling into her.

“Gods, you’re a good fuck. As much as we need to hurry on, I want each and every man here to take a turn with you. That oughta set their minds at ease, eh?” the captain says, pulling out. “They lost friends, family… but you might at least ease their loss.”

XXX

Sully’s life devolves into nothing but pain, and humiliation. The countless troops she had faced with such confidence descend upon her helpless form, raping her without mercy, and without rest. By the end, she can hardly think straight. Her breastplate is shattered completely, leaving her perky breasts exposed to the cool mountain air, something many of the men take advantage of. Pinching, biting at her nipples, while thrusting into her ass or her cunt… each man has some sick variation as he releases the tension the battle caused upon her. By the last man, Sully only wishes it would all come to an end. But, true to her word, she never begs.

That is, until the captain approaches her prone form. By now, she lacks the strength to resist, even without her arms held. She can only watch, as he grows closer. Something familiar is in his hand, but it takes her some time to register her own lance. And then, the look on his face. Something in her succumbs to panic, then.

“P-please… what are you going to do with that?” She asks, worry plain on her face. Of course, her voice is rasp, hardly above a whisper.

In answer, the captain simply pushes the blade against her cunt. Sully’s eyes widen, and a shriek escapes her, as he begins pressing it into her folds.

“Not like this, please… just end it quickly!” Sully asks, but the captain only shakes his head. He continues his slow advance, and the blade pushes deeper into her. It works its way through her cunt, slicing at her walls as it passes through, before plunging into her uterus. Come and blood begin trailing down the shaft, and as the blade pushes further, Sully finds the pain unbearable. Any attempt at speech becomes incoherent babbling, especially as it passes into her guts.

“I think I’d call that begging, wouldn’t you?” the captain asks his men, laughing at Sully’s expense. He continues pushing the lance into her body, sometimes being forced to draw the weapon back, and thrust in with greater force. Occasionally he stops, only to make quick, shallow thrusts, as if fucking her with the lance. And yet, he refuses to go far enough to end it. To pierce her heart, or her lungs, and end things too quickly… where would be the fun in that?

It isn’t until Sully loses consciousness that he has one of his men bring forth a heavy axe. With one steady swing, the woodcutter turned soldier beheads the redhead, and the tears that streamed down her face splatter along the earth as her head rolls to a stop. With nothing left to hold him back, the captain thrusts the lance one final time, until it emerges from the hole of her neck. He then props her body up, the base of her lance serving to steady the fallen cavalier in a puddle of her piss and blood.

He rises, then, picking her head up. Gazing down at her face, eyes empty and jaws slack, he can’t help but think of what a waste this was. Something about her empty expression stirs his arousal, however, and he decides on a final send off. He holds her head steady with one hand, while he begins pumping away at himself with the other. The infinite stare of her dead eyes spurs him on, and he hardly notices the troops circling up around her body. As he pleasures himself, they follow suit, aiming into the armor around her neck, meant to protect her from being decapitated like this.

He could almost chuckle at the irony there, but he is far too close to finishing for that. WIth a grunt, his seed splatters across her face, covering the dead Shepherd’s pretty face with one last spray of come. It doesn’t take his men long to add their contributions, filling her armor with their come as a final parting gift. It’s almost unfortunate that her comrades won’t be finding her like this, with the difficulty the militia’s numbers will add to their struggle.