As often as he called himself a lone wolf, Lucina had a hard time seeing him in such a light. She saw the appeal he held in the phrase, of course; a lone wolf was too proud or too powerful or too wearisome to prowl in a pack. A lone wolf didn't require friendship or camaraderie and survived solely on confidence. Yes, Gerome was a solitary enigma, but he was no wolf, no deserter. Wolves stalked battlefields and scrounged the remains, ribs and pointed joints their only adornment. Gerome was no scavenger, but a ravager. He was a pillar of darkness, a shadow knight, tamer of wyverns and destroyer of the undead. His armor swallowed light as quickly as his axe swallowed life, and mounted on a demon of grace, he was an atlas whose broad shoulders crushed enemies in a sick dance of death.
But he wasn't always this way, Lucina lamented. She remembered when they were simply children in a war, not children fighting one. She remembered when his father's hands, hands that had guarded Lucina's father so many times, gently swept over Gerome's shoulders and nudged him towards her. Frederick's voice was firm, yet fond when telling her that Gerome was to be her protector while her father was away. Of course, at that time Gerome was two years her junior and Lucina admits she had felt it a burden at first, believing that it would be her protecting the little boy that stood before her. Looking back, it must have been quite the jest between Frederick and Chrom; Lucina and Gerome were too young and naïve to know what their burden truly was. They were small then, shoulders without the secure weight of pauldrons nor the crushing responsibility of a nation. The little boy she met then was bashful, nervously fidgeting and fingering his cravat, and when he stuttered out his name (which resembled "Grrme" rather than Gerome) Lucina the child lifted her nose in a scoff worthy of Brady's mother. Gods, what a silly clod she'd been, and what a stubborn child he'd seemed to be! He'd sucked in his cheeks and responded with a snoot of his own, and just as she'd gotten ready to clout him Chrom had pulled Lucina aside with a small chuckle, and Frederick had pulled Gerome from her wrath. That had been one of the only moments where Lucina paid no mind to her father, for just as quickly as she had been enraged by the little boy, she was enraptured by the grace of the Valmese woman who glided to meet Frederick. Over her father's shoulder, Lucina attempted to catch a glimpse of the family between the pillars of the castle garden, watching the trio in the shadow of the veranda. Never before has she seen such a woman of grace. True, Olivia's performances radiated charm and charisma, but this woman radiated strength, refinement. This woman was a queen as well as a warrior, more so than her own mother. She knelt before her son and refined his tie, smoothed back his hair and kissed his cheek. Lucina had been so transfixed that she didn't notice the tears Cherche kissed away from Gerome's face, the cringe that wracked Gerome's entire body when Frederick removed his palms from his shoulders. Lucina didn't notice the farewell.
Gerome had stayed beside Lucina during the war in Valm. While Lucina had felt it a nuisance at first, Inigo had made quick friends with the boy, and through his intervention, gradually, the three of them had formed an unbreakable bond. Pilfering extra treats from the castle kitchens, plucking feathers from pegasi and scaling windows to get into the Shepherd armory (Gerome never joined in and instead chose to take the stairs, asserting it was absolutely not because he was afraid of heights). In those peaceful days, or at least, peace in Ylisse, Lucina learned many things about Gerome. His godfather was the duke of Rosanne, and that man had taught Cherche how to waltz when she was but a servant- a skill she passed on to her son. Gerome learned how to sew when he accidentally ripped Frederick's favorite handkerchief, and Cherche had really done all of the work. When he attempted to run away after a particularly horrifying scolding from his father- never feed Frederick bear, he told Lucina- Minerva had found him in the dead of night, and he thought he was going to perish when the beast wrapped him in her magnificent wings. Sometimes, if Lucina was lucky, Gerome would talk about his mother and father as if they were as righteous and invincible as Naga, ever devoted to serving the royal family. And when they would return home after crushing Walhart (What is a horse in the face of a wyvern, he bragged), Frederick would finally teach Gerome how to use a sword. The little boy claimed that at that time, he'd finally be able to protect Lucina.
But then Minerva landed in the castle gardens on a bed of bleeding magnolias, a mess of stripped scales, scattered scars, and scathing burns. Geroma and Lucina had been hunched over trying to catch their breaths, giggling uncontrollably as they heard Inigo whine as the cook chided him, "It was Lucy's idea!" That smile never left him as Minerva's gust blew Lucina's hair back, and he turned thrice looking for his beloved mother before focusing on the wounded wyvern before him. Her tail pulsated back and forth as her neck bowed down before Gerome, the dragon boy who still stood smaller than both Lucina and her younger brother. He cried then, and little Lucina kissed away his tears as Cherche had done when he was just a little toddler who had the gall to snoot at the Princess of Ylisse.
Gerome's parents were the first to die, you see, right before the war in Valm became the war in Ylisse, and it was then that Lucina, as well as Gerome, truly understood what Frederick's duty was to the Exalt.
What was worse, was that Gerome accepted that duty wholeheartedly, donning a mask and vowing to protect Lucina with his life. He shadowed her and Inigo at all times, never once wavering, never out of reach. He grew as Lucina did, as tall as she was nimble, as imposing as she was poised. She admired him like she did Cherche that day she saw the woman glide beside Frederick in the gardens. He was terrifying, brooding, overwhelmingly powerful, stoic, yet gentle.
He was the perfect killer in theory. And if Lucina had known nothing about him, had not spent hours in the castle gardens and kissed his tears away she may have been afraid of him. Admittedly, it did frighten her, on occasion, that in his insistence of his existence as a lone wolf he would abandon her, and her cause. No, not the cause. Just her.
But Gerome was no lone wolf. Lone wolves were loyal to no one. Gerome was the dragon boy, a kindred spirit to Minerva, who served Cherche and now Gerome, who would serve Lucina in his father's absence. He was loyal to her and only her. And she took pride in that fact, maybe, Lucina admitted, just a little more than pride as well.
Because although he did not know it, she was just as devoted to him.