Decipher

Draknal: So here's another idea from the dark recesses of my mind. What? A story that isn't Robin x Lucina? I know. Strange, isn't it? Enjoy.

A/N: I decided to rename this, and place a different description. It seems that I accidentally caused some confusion. This isn't a story about the group known as the "Wolves". They're just a plot device to move things along. This story focuses around a different first meeting between Robin and Tharja. The chapters will show the development of their encounters and eventual progression into a relationship. Beware, some personalities will be slightly different due to various changed circumstances. This won't be a happy stalker Tharja. Obsession will be there early on, but for different reasons, not romantic ones. Just thought it'd be fair to give proper warning on that.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot of this story.


It had started simply enough. She had been summoned to the throne room by the "Mad King" himself. He was always so easy to read and manipulate. Her master was proud of how easy it was for her to steer things in the direction they wanted them to go. Honestly, Gangrel was so simple minded that it was laughable. But that did not mean he wasn't dangerous.

No, he was very much dangerous. A point that was making itself known now as he paced in front of her.

"Ah, my dear Aversa. How good of you to answer my summons."

She bowed theatrically, a smirk upon her lips. "I live to serve, my king. What need have you of me?"

His pacing ceased. The man's head slowly rotated so that he was looking over his shoulder at her. A dangerous smile began stretching across his visage.

"I have pain, a thorn in my side as it were my lovely tactician."

"Oh?" she inquired, a delicate eyebrow rising ever so slightly.

"They are causing me problems, my dear. Problems. I don't like problems."

She was momentarily puzzled. She had some idea of who he was referring to, but figured it would be prudent to investigate further. "They, my lord?"

"The Shepherds," he hissed, spitting out the word like a curse. "That little princeling is supposed to be a mere speck before me. He was supposed to roll over and die at my whim. That ragtag band of misfits and farmers is still alive, Aversa. I don't like that. I don't like it at all."

He had sent some of his best soldiers after the small group of Ylisseans, and none had succeeded in taking a single member of the group down. The Shepherds were costing him men and resources. For this reason, the Plegian king found himself becoming more and more enraged at their defiance.

"Three separate forts destroyed, two garrisons captured, twelve platoons of soldiers killed. They are trespassing on my land as we speak, traipsing about as though they own it. They are tracking mud across the carpet with their filthy Ylissean feet!"

He had closed the distance between himself and his advisor in the blink of an eye. The mad king had seized her, gripping her head between his hands, his nails digging slightly into her tender flesh.

"I want them dead, Aversa," he growled. "Dead. Do you understand? Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. DeaddeaddeaddeaddeaddeaddeadDEAD!"

She refused to show it, but she was nervous… frightened even. A single bead of sweat was slowly working its way down the back of her skull. A dark chill crept up her spine as she gazed into the insanity dancing in the light of his eyes.

He may have been simple minded. But when he was angry, he became unpredictable. Much like a court jester, which he imitated in appearance, he was a wild card. Reason and logic didn't matter to him at such a point. Right then and there he might caress her cheek or put a dagger through it.

His previous adviser was killed in such a fit of rage, the man stabbed over forty times before Gangrel had let his perforated corpse slump to the ground.

"I want the prince's head on a pike. Actually, no, just bring the corpse back. In fact, I want all the Shepherds brought back to me, preferably dead. I don't care how big or small they are, young or old, able or handicapped. If they call themselves "Shepherd", I want to call them "corpse"."

She gulped down what fear was knotting itself in her stomach. "I understand my lord."

His grip tightened, forcing the dark flyer to wince. "Do you, my lovely Aversa? I don't want them hurt, injured, wounded, maimed, inconvenienced, or disabled. I want them dead. Annihilated, obliterated, destroyed, eviscerated, executed, murdered, six feet under, eradicated!"

He released her from his grip, taking in a deep breath as he did so. "As of right now I am promoting you to General. You will take our best soldiers, barring my personal guard, and whatever supplies you need. And you will hunt down these Shepherds. You will destroy them. And you will bring their bodies back to me."

"To do what with?"

He cackled as he spun around in a fit of whimsy, arms outstretched. "Why, whatever I wish of course! I may just pile them up outside my window and empty my chamber pot upon them each morning!"

His eccentric behavior disappeared as quickly as it had come. The crazed ruler's arms returned to his side once more and he fixed his adviser with another narrowed stare. "But that can't happen until you deliver them to me. So what are you doing still standing there?"

There was an undertone of menace that the snow-haired spell caster had no wish to test further. She bowed quickly and spun on her heel, making a hasty, yet dignified retreat. She did not fear this man, after all… just the insanity he so enjoyed courting.

X-x-X-x-X

And so she found herself standing before the assembled Plegian soldiers that had answered her call. Cavalry, swordsmen, mages from the royal library, dark mage operatives from the deepest cells of the Grimleal. Some were grizzled veterans from past years of war, looking for payback against Ylisse for their crimes. Others were in it only for the bloodshed. And others still were complete enigmas. She gave her most recent recruit a once over.

A dark mage, one who dabbled in the most dangerous branch of magic… That much was evident from the way this woman was dressed. Light cloth garb that left little to the imagination, much to the obvious enjoyment of the male soldiers if their predatory gazes and undisguised lust were any indication. She had received more than a few of such gazes herself in her service to Plegia's throne. But they quickly learned that looking was all they were allowed to do. Those brazen enough, or perhaps stupid enough, to try any more than that found themselves victim to the deadly arts that she practiced. They discovered that she was not a woman to be trifled with, both in name and power.

But the woman before her appeared all too aware of the dark desires and mental conjurations of those around her. The disinterested look, bordering that of boredom, that she sported gave the impression that she just didn't care. It was like she knew that these worms couldn't touch her even if they tried.

'Confidence. I like that.' But was it mere arrogance, or was it well deserved? 'The fact that she practices dark magic is enough to prove her strength I suppose.'

Such arts were not for the weak, or the faint of heart. It wasn't an inherently evil branch of magic, but due to bigotry from other mages, and a bad rep overall brought on by history and legend, it was tricky for those of a non-magically-talented nature to make the distinction. But the power was intoxicating. It was oh so easy for one to fall victim to it, as many a practitioner had in the past.

'So she has power. And she's not afraid to use it. Wonderful,' purred the newly appointed general.

She gazed into the charcoal orbs of the mage she had been analyzing. Long ebony hair, only held in check by a golden circlet she wore, framed her face like a curtain.

"And why are you here, my dear?" she inquired. "Surely you have better things that you could be doing instead of joining a military unit. Research perhaps?"

A grim smirk appeared as she looked unflinchingly into the elder mage's eyes. "What do you think this is?" she offered in reply. "I need live subjects to test my hexes on."

A silver eyebrow curved upwards ever so slightly as she gave a lilting laugh. "Oh is that so? I do believe we will get along quite well. What's your name, dear?"

"Tharja."

"Well I look forward to working with you in the foreseeable future, Tharja."

She turned on her heel and made for the front of the room. A small raised platform awaited her, offering her troops the chance to get a better look at their new commanding officer. In turn, she knew her words would be heard now.

"Soldiers, countrymen, fellow mages," she began, scanning over the crowd, pleased to see that all eyes were on her. "Welcome. You are here, because you are the best at what you do. Killing, casting, infiltrating, you are here to do what is asked of you. Our King, in his wisdom, has decided that we need a more involved approach in dealing with our latest foes. Ylisse has not been content with past tragedies inflicted against us, and seeks to renew their crusade."

She let the words sink in as she observed the various changes in expressions within the sea of people she stood before. "They claim they are just "defending themselves" while they all but invade our country and renew their former exalt's blackhearted ways."

She failed to mention that Plegia had provoked the other country into action, be it through hiring bandits, or conducting covert raids and kidnapping important individuals for blackmailing purposes. Truthfully, the Shepherds had only crossed into Plegian territory but a few times. The outposts they had lost had been erected on Ylissean soil, in hopes of establishing a foothold from which to commence a full scale invasion.

But such specifics were trivial in the grand scheme of things. She only needed these people angry and ready to spill Ylissean blood. And so far it was working like a charm.

"Our target is Ylisse's foremost dangerous squad, led by the arrogant little Prince Chrom; Brother to the cowardly Exalt. Our task is to find him and his merry band of misfits and end them."

She laughed quietly behind a raised hand. "They fancy themselves Shepherds, tending to their sheep. So we shall be the Wolves that kill the protectors and tear their precious flock apart."

And so it began.