Author's Note: I'm pretty sure this story would have all of the warnings on it's HBO title card, and isn't meant for people under the age of 18. I challenged myself to write a one-shot lemon and somehow ended up with multiple chapters. I'm going to have to work on the concept of "one shot" if I attempt it again

Update: 2018/07/15 - Found out that the section breaks I was using for scene-changes were getting wiped by the system here. The abrupt scene changes probably made for a rough read there, sorry about that.

A Hex Called Jealousy

Robin let a long sigh slip past his lips as his eyes idly trailed over the text of a book that he wasn't actually reading. Things had become complicated in camp ever since the big reveal that Lucina was actually Chrom's daughter from the future. Ever since it had come out that she was a part of a band of heroes, many of whom traced their lineage to members of the Shepherds, it had made interpersonal relationships among the party a little more…complicated than usual.

Some people were eager to find partners with the hope that they might see their progeny come back from the future to further bolster their ranks. Some people were concerned that the target of their affections would have a future child who turned out to belong to someone else and were preemptively making things awkward. A few members of their group were still struggling with the concept of children from the future, and what that meant for the concepts of free will and destiny.

All of it had come down to a very strange morale situation that Robin had been trying to deal with ever since. It probably would have been helpful if Lucina had been willing and able to give them more information. It was the sort of thing that even bugged Robin a little bit, though he was finding it much easier to focus on the morale issue than the implications of time-travel on everything that he had ever seen, said, or done.

In the end, Robin now found himself in a situation where 'matchmaker' was set to become one of his titles, and many of the other Shepherds were asking him for permission to pursue relationships, or advice on how they might move a relationship forward. It was becoming a little bit taxing, and while he had asserted that such matters not be brought up at strategy meetings, it was difficult to argue that gathering new fighters from the future wasn't a 'strategic issue'.

It was because of all of these various troubles that Robin had retreated to the relative privacy of his personal tent. While it may not have been as easy to strategize here, idly flipping through the pages of an old tome was helping him to clear his thoughts. He was also enjoying being alone…for however long that might last.

"Robin…are you busy?"

The strategist immediately brought his hand up from the book, his thumb and forefinger squeezing the bridge of his nose. On one hand he could ignore the voice that threatened to intrude on his privacy. On the other, he wasn't actually busy, and should this be something that was relevant to the war that they currently found themselves in, it would be irresponsible not to respond.

After a long moment, Robin relented to the possibility that this could be important and broke the moment of silence, "What seems to be the problem?"

The door to his tent parted open, and a young pegasus knight pushed through the opening. Her ruby hair cascaded down her back, held back from her face by her iconic pegasus wing hair-clip. It was strange to see her in normal clothes as opposed to the usually sparkling arbor that she wore. It was actually refreshing to see that she had taken the messages about how unlikely it was that they'd be attacked in camp to heart. Cordelia tended to be very studious like that, and because of that, was one of the few members of the camp that hadn't been taken by this 'future-fever'.

Robin kept the smile on his face, even as he took note of the way that she was struggling to maintain eye contact, "Was there something that you needed, Cordelia?"

"I was hoping to get some advice…"

The smiling facade that Robin was wearing cracked slightly. This was alright though, there were plenty of things that Cordelia could be asking him about that weren't the topic he was trying to avoid. Maybe she had a question about tactics, or for some reason wanted to run down the classics like the weapon triangle with him. Maybe she wanted to talk about how best to avoid things like bows while she was out on the battlefield.

"…That is to say…romantic advice."

Robin deflated, catching his face with his palm as his head rolled forward. He stayed like that for a moment. He realized now that he should have known better the moment that Cordelia had entered his tent. While the dress made of quilted fabric and leather that she normally wore under her plate was still armour, for someone like Cordelia, dressing like this was 'casual'. He had to admit, that with the shining plate gone, her appearance was more approachable, or at least a little bit less intimidating.

He found himself trying to think of the way that a proper leader would deal with this kind of situation. With all of the strategy books that he had gone over, and everything that he had learned, there had to be some example that he could draw on. Unfortunately nothing was coming to mind, and the only leader he could think of that had ever had this kind of situation to deal with other than himself was Chrom.

His fingers pushed through his hair as he drew his hand back to slick back his bangs. He eyed Cordelia for a moment before finally speaking, "Alright, but if I agree to help you, I'd better not have anyone else coming to my tent for this kind of help, deal?"

Cordelia nodded quickly as her body naturally moved into the proud stance of a knight accepting orders. Even when her mind was focused on romantic issues, it seemed that she was unable to push her training to the side. It was nice to know that even during this trying emotional time, duty was still so deeply ingrained into who she was that she couldn't put it aside.

Robin took another long breath, accepting the nod as the agreement to their deal, "Very well…How can I help?"

oOo0oOo

A pair of dark eyes watched the flap to the tent carefully. With the camp in the heightened emotional state that it was in, people entering other people's personal tents was a thing that people took notice of. It might have meant nothing, but in certain cases, just the perception that it gave off was a dangerous thing. This was definitely one of those cases, and both of the involved parties were smart enough to know that.

Tharja chewed on her bottom lip angrily as she watched the front of Robin's tent with eyes that burned so hot that they could melt steel. There were plenty of times when someone such as Cordelia marching into Robin's tent wouldn't have even registered to her. This time was different. The pegasus knight had clearly been nervous, which alone wouldn't have been a big deal, but she had also chosen not to wear that freshly polished plate armour that Tharja assumed she only removed for the polishing process.

The shadowy sorceress could respect a woman wanting to flaunt her feminine wiles. Given the uniform of a female dark mage, it would be the height of hypocrisy for her to deny anyone the ability to change up their outfit to attract amorous attention. The problem was not the bait that Cordelia was setting by dressing like an innocent farm girl, but the target that she hoped to catch with her honey-sweet trap.

As the moments became minutes, Tharja found herself becoming more and more anxious about what was happening. Robin hadn't immediately cast the red-haired trollop out of his tent, which meant that they were still in there…together. The longer it took the more her mind worked over the problem, trying to determine what could be going on, inventing more scenarios as time continued it's relentless push onwards.

Maybe they were just talking. Robin was good at talking to people. He had a way about him that he could help people arrive at the best solution to most problems. It wouldn't have been a stretch to say that if anyone in the Shepherds had a problem, Robin was the one that they wanted to talk it out with. He always kept a level head, was always fair when a dispute came up, and was generous with his time. Maybe Cordelia was just there to talk out a problem.

Then again, maybe Cordelia had been caught up in the heightened emotions of recent events. It was possible that all of this talk of children from the future had awakened Cordelia to her womanly desires. It was definitely a mindset that seemed to be spreading throughout the camp, and the pegasus knight wouldn't have been the first one to have been spotted somewhere composing a list of possible names for children. A number of the women in camp had been approaching Robin asking permission to pursue a romantic relationship with someone else in camp, and while the strategist had insisted that no one needed his permission to fall in love, Cordelia seemed like the type to ask for it anyway.

But what if she wasn't just asking permission? What if this was the first step in a plan to seduce the grandmaster? What if, even with her constant watching, Tharja had missed something and this wasn't the first step, but actually a daring afternoon rendezvous?

This was the darkest corner that she had come up with, and coincidentally was where Tharja's mind had settled. She stewed in it, while her mind rolled over the idea of Cordelia and Robin together. Her mind conjured images of skin on skin, of sweaty heat, of sounds of passion slipping through gritted teeth and drown out by the sound of tent canvas rippling in the gentle breeze. Her imagination was well versed in exploring such fantasied. Normally she imagined Robin's fingers being tangled in her midnight black tresses. This time her imagination betrayed her with images of hair that was the colour of blood.

Tharja drew her thumb away from her lips. She was not sure when she had started to chew on the fine edge of her black-painted nail, but knew that continuing to do so could cause breakage. She wasn't ready to throw away any cards that might help her get what she wanted, and that included nails that could be sharpened into dagger-sharp talons. If she was going to claw Robin back to her, it might turn out that she needed actual claws, after all.

When Cordelia finally did exit the tent, the faint blush on her cheeks was not something that Tharja found to be comforting. Far from defeating the images in her mind, it just leant further credence to immodesty of her mind's eye. Worse still, now that she had seen how utterly shy and innocent Cordelia was acting, it changed the narrative of the story that her imagination was weaving.

When their coupling had first entered her mind, it was easy for Tharja to paint Cordelia as the aggressor. It was simple to imagine that the pegasus knight would slip into Robin's tent wearing the dress that served as her under-armour, then assaulting Robin with her body. Maybe Robin would have resisted for a while. His sword training made him stronger than the average mage, but against a trained pegasus knight, when she pinned him down to his chair, his noble struggling would probably be in vain. It wouldn't take long after she had mounted his lap, the fair skin of her thighs on either side of his hips. A belt, and the shifting of fabric, and then that would be all it would take.

Those weren't the actions of a shy girl though. A girl who looked flustered before entering the tent, and now wore a light pink blush on her cheeks would never be so direct in her attack. If that was the case…Tharja's mind ran over the alternative story, where Robin had taken a more direct role in things. Perhaps he had even called her there under the pretence that this was some plan to bring back these future children and further bolster their ranks. That seemed like the sort of thing that dutiful soldier like Cordelia would have pretended she was reluctant about, but accepted with the glee of a newlywed.

Tharja's mind conjured images of the pegasus knight struggling to hide her eagerness as she slipped into the tent. She could see it as clearly as if it were happening right in front of her. He would press his lips to hers in a kiss fuelled by his fiery passion. His hands would find her hips and turn her, leading her around his tent. He'd use her to find the edge of the desk, and while one hand took a firm grip of the desk to keep them there, the other would start its work, hiking up the hem of her skirt. His lips would move to the nape of her neck, to lower her defences, and then suddenly she'd suddenly find her back pressed to the smooth surface of the top of his desk.

The dark sorceress desperately wanted to stop the story playing out in her head there. The battle against her imagination proved to be one in which Tharja could find no victory. She was a prisoner to her mind. The nightmare that was so close to so many of her fantasies was not something that she could escape. It played on in her mind's eye, much too real to just be her imagination.

Hands slipped under fabric. Fingers teased over skin. A pair of lacy underclothes were dragged down over milky thighs, further down a pair of well-toned legs, over knees, and past ankles before being discarded to the side. Leather straps were drawn past freshly loosened buckles. Cotton rubbed against skin, and crumpled to the ground, left like a forgotten shadow.

Tharja was sure that she could feel the heat from the bodies in front of her. Perhaps this had just started as he mind taking a journey down dark pathways, but now, it was as if her mind had given flesh to a dream. If it hadn't been so clear, maybe she could have ignored it, wiped it away like a cloud of smoke. The more it played out, the more she knew that it was real, the more she knew that this was what had happened in the tent.

Robin's hands moved up to take a firm hold of the far edge of his desk as he rocked his hips forward. His length pierced the lance-wielder he had pinned to his desk, and a sharp noise escaped her throat before she could bite he bottom lip to keep from crying out. Cordelia had her arms wrapped tightly around Robin's torso, pressing her chest into his, and allowing her to bury her face into the crook of his neck. Their motions stopped there long enough to sear the moment into Tharja's mind, and then the movement began again.

It was slow at first. The kind of movement you would expect between two lovers. A gentle push and pull as skin rubbed against skin. Soft noises, that were further muffled by Robin's shoulder, slipped past Cordelia's lips every time his hips moved forward to push his length deeper inside of her. Her fingers linked together behind his back, her grip quickly becoming so tight that her knuckles turned white.

The slow movements quickly gave way to faster, more desperate pushes towards the ultimate goal. His hips began to rock forward with a speed and force that caused Cordelia's body to shake slightly as her grip tightened on him with each thrust. The desk that they were over began to let out soft noises to protest the activities taking place on it, keeping time to their thrusts with the gentle groans of wood. Robin seemed to be using his grip on the edge of the desk to try and pull himself deeper into the pegasus knight with every forward thrust. For her part, Cordelia had arched her back attempting to maneuver herself in a way that Robin's thrusts could reach her very core.

Cordelia's knees rose, her slim legs, better for riding a pegasus than for running, curled up and around hips of the strategist above her. Her ankles hooked together behind Robin, her leather boots pressing tightly to his behind through the material of his coat. While Robin was using leverage from his desk to thrust his length as deep into her as possible, Cordelia was doing her part, by pulling him tighter with her legs on every deep and penetrating thrust.

The sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the tent, but somehow failed to escape it. Cordelia bit down on Robin's shoulder, as the cries of passion that she was in danger of letting out were something that was much more likely to pierce the material of the tent. Robin grunted through grit teeth, possibly from the bite to the shoulder, possibly from the feeling of Cordelia's folds tightening around his length.

Ragged breathing, soft grunts, muffled moans, and the wet noises of a hard cock thrusting in and out of a well-lubricated pussy all filled the tent and assaulted Tharja's ears. The smell of Robin's sweat, which Tharja was all too familiar with, mixed with the soft scent of Cordelia's perfume, and the musty scents that came from juices associated with sex, all to assault Tharja's nose. The image of hips pounding against hips, of skin against skin, of fingers gripping the edge of a desk, and fist squeezing tight around the black jacket that they had grabbed onto served to assault Tharja's eyes. The image, that for her might as well have been a memory, was burned into all of her senses.

Their movements became more uncontrolled, their breathing more ragged. It was clear that the encounter was approaching its end. Tharja grit her teeth for a moment. It wasn't too late to stop this. She could tell herself that. If they didn't finish, it didn't count, and he could still be hers. She opened her mouth to scream, to say anything that would stop this from going on.

And she found herself without a voice.

No sound escaped her open mouth. Her throat burned with the effort. Her eyes burned as she pushed every last bit of air from her lungs in a scream that made no sound. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she silently sobbed between desperate, and ultimately silent cries. She tried to move forward, so that she might wrench the two of them apart, anything to stop this from continuing, but none of her steps brought her any closer to the desk, or the two people who were over it. She was being robbed of everything that she wanted, and somehow fate had deemed that she would also be denied the ability to do anything to stop it.

As she struggled, she watched the two bodies shudder, as grips tightened and they pulled each other as close together as was possible. She watched hips spasm against hips, heard the sounds of completion. She saw as Cordelia closed her eyes as tightly as possible, her eyebrows furrowing as she felt the sensation of something being pushed out of him, and left as deep inside of her as it could be. When the pegasus knight finally opened her eyes, it seemed it was only to lock eyes with Tharja. A smug smile spread across her lips as Robin slumped forward onto of her body, resting there as sweat beaded on the naked parts of both of their bodies.

Tharja fell forward onto her knees as the dream that had been playing out around her faded away like smoke. She found herself desperately gasping for breath, her shoulders heaving under the task of each ragged gasp of the cool air. Sweat poured from her brow and her lungs burned under the strain of catching her breath, but deep in her core she somehow felt like everything was frozen. Her heart was beating at a mile a minute, thudding against her brain, but at the same time it felt like it was cold, dead, and broken.

She clutched her book tighter against her chest. It wasn't real, just a dream. She said it to herself in her mind over and over again. It wasn't real, just her imagination running wild. She kept asserting it, as if using her very soul to will it into being true. It couldn't be real. She tried to stop her mind there while the thought was an assertion that she could set her reality there.

But her mind had gone too far down this dark and winding road to leave her with any hope to hold onto. It barrelled forward twisting her hope into deeper despair with the addition of the most subtle of doubts.

It couldn't be real…could it?