Notes: Whoops, DARK FIC! Trigger warnings galore! ...I love this pairing in this context, to be honest. I couldn't help the turn this took, couldn't make it fluffy to save my soul. And you all thought Mother dearest was the worst I could do? My sweet summer children, we're just getting started!

Stats: 500 words for WalhartRobin. If anyone ever writes something similar, please give me a call; I'm evidently rotten because I will want to read it (GrimaChrom and GrimaLucina are so stale, we need more dark fic pairings)

She was just like a songbird. A lying, scheming songbird whose tunes he couldn't trust, but a songbird nonetheless.

In Valm, she had defeated him and his best at his own castle, with just a handful of allies at her side. She was shocking and unpredictable, able to win without physical might if she got her brilliant mind into it. Then she did it again when he returned from the dead, and he couldn't help following her after that, as if bewitched...

But once he saw Grima in the flesh, and the mark of the fell dragon on her hand, the spell of her charms wore off. She was evil, her blood was poison and her body accursed. She was what he had sought to stop.

And as soon as the beast had been slain by Chrom, and the Shepherds were safe back on land, Walhart turned his weapon on them. It caught them all by surprise, while they were tired and wounded, and he was an unstoppable storm beating them lower still. He yanked Robin onto his horse as they tried to subdue him, and he rode away with his hostage as they backed down to avoid harming her.

The conqueror found an abandoned fort to claim. He dismounted, taking the tactician with him. He slammed her against a wall, preparing to strike her down with one blow of his axe...

She said nothing, she didn't even raise her arms, but her brown eyes looked up at him, wide in fear and bright with tears and begging for her life.

He buried his axe to her side, sparing her.

For now.

For a week.

For a month.

Back at a hidden fortress of his in Valm, the Shepherds finally had them surrounded. They were coming to rescue his caged songbird.

And he was going to let them.

Just after one last song, faked but still delightful. He thought she was gorgeous, bound to the bed by those golden shackles.

Just one last song from her lips. Her moans of pleasure as he slammed into her were not real, no matter how much louder they were than the rattling of the chains. Occasionally her acting would slip, a pained gasp or an anguished cry getting through... He couldn't understand why she was so committed to making him think she enjoyed it.

For once, to celebrate their parting, he finished inside of her. The results were amazing; she dropped all pretense and screamed in horror, and he could say he was happy he finally got to see the full extent of her suffering, his revenge against the Grimleal that had terrorized the world complete.

...the Falchion pierced his side while he was still over the despairing woman, the blade angled so it didn't even touch her. He staggered away from the bed, as Chrom hurried to Robin's aid, and the Shepherds that had barged in rained their punishment upon Walhart.

He had raped the queen of Ylisse and was accordingly executed.