Author Name: Blue Sun Studios

Date Began: January 28, 2015

Title: Fire Emblem: Awakening‒The Lord and the Dark Mage Chapter 1: The Meeting of Two Worlds


Author's Introduction Notes: hey there my peoples, this is Blue Sun Studios on the air with you all. Have no fear, I'm not dead or anything serious like that; I've just been in the worst creative slump ever I've ever had in my entire life and had a few unpleasant issues come up that I don't feel like talking about (how many times have I said that already? I lost count). Now this story is something that I've been wanting to write for some time; create a story where Chrom and Tharja actually interact with each other outside of Tharja's recruitment scene. There's next to no fan followings of these two together and no real content of them together being produced either, so I guess that this is something of a start; a fair warning here to you all though: the rating of the story may change with future installments because while mature rated themes may not be on my mind at the present they may be on my mind later on, so keep that in mind. And if you have any questions about what I'm doing with my other entries, feel free to send me a private message and not through the reviews; now that that's out of the way, don't forget to read the disclaimer below.

The following is a nonprofit, fan based fiction. Fire Emblem: Shadow Dragon through Fire Emblem: Awakening are all owned by NintendoCo., Ltd. Please support the official releases. WARNING: this story in its entirety contains content that some viewers (i.e. you) may find inappropriate, offensive, and/or uncomfortable. If you are under the legal age of adulthood, unsure about reading this fiction, or some other third entity that shouldn't be here, I advise you not to view this. For those of you who are allowed to and are all set to read this, please rate and/or review at your own discretion.


Plegia was starting to prove to be unfavorable territory for the Shepherds; the sandy ground was too unstable for those who weren't mages which was more than half of their ranks, the winds brought forth arid heat and more sand to buffet them‒another issue that could only be avoided by mages‒and the enemy had little-to-no problem fighting in these conditions seeing as it was their home turf. True to their credit however, the Shepherds had not been discouraged by any of this; it instead seemed to spur them on to fight more than they ever had, especially to rescue their fair exalt Emmeryn. Chrom, while having Emmeryn's rescue as his top priority, had other things currently on his mind.

Since the beginning of the war Chrom had come face-to-face with some of Plegia's most feared units‒the dark mages. These units were cut from a different cloth than that of normal mages, he could tell that much having fought one of them himself. In comparison they may have had slightly less raw magical strength and were somewhat lacking in accuracy and evasion, they more than made up for it by simply being sturdier soldiers. And that was just the tip of the iceberg; they possessed extensive knowledge of the fearsome dark arts in conjunction with anima arts, nearly all of which differed from the latter by having nebulous combat effects, such as life-stealing to name just one of them. If only Chrom could enlist one of them, preferably from Plegia, then he'd have quite a powerful unit under his command; the Shepherds could benefit from such a figure in their ranks.

"How's progress coming along Robin?" the prince shouted through the harsh winds to his tactician behind him. "So far so good," they shouted back, "but why exactly are you in the very front?" "No particular reason," he answered, "the quicker we get to Emmeryn, the better." "I hear you on that one."

Chrom didn't tell his tactician that he was planning on recruiting a dark mage, who would almost invariably be an enemy. He would get to them first before the others did though; if any of the others reached any dark mages before he did he may not even get a chance to get them to defect to the Shepherds' side. So he made sure he stayed ahead of the pack for that specific reason, not that he'd let them in on it. He kept trudging onwards into the sandstorm that threatened to sand down his eyes into pulp while making sure his left hand did not leave the high courtyard walls' sides, and when he felt that he rounded a corner he could also notice that the sand wasn't harassing him as it was before; he removed his sword arm from his eyes to scan this new location. Before him was a vast swath of earth that stretched into the horizon for miles, two fortresses could be spotted not too far off in the distance, and it appeared as though the rest of the landscape would be barren plains as opposed to the sand of the desert. He looked to be not too far behind in reaching his destination soon.

"Huh, looks like the terrains should pose less of a problem to us now, right Robin? …Robin?" His tactician wasn't by his side like they usually were, and he couldn't see any of the other Shepherds either. "Oh dear Naga almighty…I just pray that they kept their hands to the walls…" He would go back into the sandstorm to see if he could find any of his fellow Shepherds and make sure that they weren't hopelessly wandering the desert on their own. Yet something told him to persevere on, to stop worrying about his soldiers so much as they were competent troops, and told him of his missions here: to rescue Emmeryn and to find a suitable dark mage to recruit as his own. So onwards he pressed to his destination, hoping that he would come across such a willing turncoat on the way.

"It's the princeling!" some wyvern rider bellowed as the royal dashed off under the harsh sun. "Quick, let's deliver his head to King Gangrel as a present!" 'Not a chance in the seven Hells…' Chrom darkly thought as he pulled Falchion from its scabbard and shifted into a defensive stance. Four wyvern riders had caught up to him and were closing in fast; these unfortunate fools didn't know who they were messing with. The prince swiftly moved in fluid yet decisive movements that ultimately put down both man and wyvern as they all charged at him, thwarting their ambush. Wyverns and their riders were both fatally weak against Falchion's dragon slaying might. "Hmph, to throw their lives away so callously…all the more reason to put Gangrel into the ground." He sped off again into the wide wasteland intent on routing the enemy forces occupying the two fortresses that stood before the courtyard. It would do him good to have that little issue out of the way before he attempted to put this plan into motion, especially once the rest of his forces had caught up. 'C'mon Robin, pull through on this one. We can''t have you dying on us now of all times; if this fails…no, we won't fail, we CAN'T fail. Not here, not now…'

It was a seven minute sprint to reach the first fortress to come up. Not one to waste any valuable time here Chrom pulled out his weapon and began cutting down the nearest enemies within his range before he made it into the next section of the stronghold. He cared little for if the enemy was now readily aware of his presence in their base, they would not be able to stop him from achieving his goal. Any Plegian ruffian that came his way, whether it had been a simple soldier to an officer, they would fall to his deeper resolve and Falchion. The walls of the fortress boomed with the wails of the unfortunate souls who faced the commander of the Shepherds, the clashing and scraping of metal against metal, and the spurts of blood being sprayed everywhere, the shredding of flesh, and the crunching of bones. Some even tried to escape his wrath but they were too slow, too late, to halt their own demise at his hands. The prince made sure to check every nook and cranny in the stronghold to ascertain that there were no remnants of the Plegian entourage present.

'Good, that's one fortress down,' he concluded to himself, 'but I still haven't come into contact with a single dark mage strangely, let alone one willing to join me…maybe I'm simply not fated to meet one on this date…hopefully the next fortress will provide me with what I seek…' He took his leave from the now vacant enemy foothold and moved on to the next one in swift fashion. The distance the trip covered was considerably shorter then Chrom had thought, but it didn't matter to him now. Right now he needed to do a little "pest control" before he moved on to the courtyard he passed by on his way here. Again, soldiers rushed at him in futile displays to even slow him in the slightest; he moved like a man possessed running solely on annihilating the enemy before him without hesitation. Blood flied everywhere in this keep of war, splattering all over the walls and onto the prince, painting him a menacing messenger of unrestrained bloodlust. The keeper of the fortress had come down from his watch and did battle with the prince, fully expecting to take him out in short notice. He never got the chance to register that he was in extreme pain by the time Chrom had made to behead him in a single stroke. He looked on at the remainders; fear was etched into their expressions but their actions betrayed their emotions, wildly charging at their executioner in a blind fit rage. None had stood victorious against him, each one falling into a heap of blood as the prince had put them down without so much as sweating. He looked upon the carnage he had wreaked with a mixture of disgust and disappointment.

"I can hardly believe that Gangrel had decided to station cannon fodder here as a means of defense…maybe he's saving his finest for me to waltz right into, expecting me to take the bait. Well, if he wants to sends out his finest then let him. I will mow down anyone and everyone he throws at me. He will perish before long and we will save Emmeryn and Ylisse from his tyranny." He double checked the base he ravaged before heading out to his final destination: the courtyard, Emmeryn's place of "execution". As he traversed outside he took his gaze to the sky and took notice of the sun; it was almost as if it was a Plegian sun deity trying to smite him and hinder his progress by causing him to pass out in this heat. 'Fat chance of that coming to pass…' His eyes locked onto the wide gates far right in front of him, and they appeared to be welcoming him in to his doom. "Who am I to keep my hosts waiting?" Before he could welcome his inviters a single voice from behind him froze him in his tracks.

"Tch, so this is the Ylissean prince?" Chrom quickly snapped about to face the brazen voice when he met with a rather welcoming sight; a lone woman stood before his eyes, and she was rather alluring in appearance. She faced him in the same form-fitting garments that all dark mages wore which did nothing to hide her slim and curvy physique, her hair was a rich jet black hue that draped over her face and was fashioned into two ponytails in the back, her pale yet supple skin was a stark contrast to the dark-colors all about her attire and was an anomaly in the harsh wasteland climate like this, and her eyes, though uninterested in expression, held a deep violet that burned into his own rich blue orbs and beheld an aura of foreboding darkness. A single hand clutched a purple tome of sorts slightly below her chest which Chrom could not avoid examining their modest size. Chrom had come upon a bonafide Plegian beauty, and she was a dark mage no less. 'Heh, looks like I've finally found my target.' He would be sure to not let this opportunity pass him up, a practitioner of the dark arts who happens to be very easy on his eyes.

"The name's Chrom, Prince Chrom of Ylisse. Might I have your name?" Of course, he was still here on business so he vowed not to get too caught up with her seeing as how she could also be a soldier of Gangrel's; the mission came first but he had to make sure that he secured a hold on her before long.

"Wanting to know the name of your enemy before either one of us could die here? Interesting…" Her tone held no mirth or emotion despite how smooth her voice sounded. "Eh, why not? You can call me…Tharja…"


"Hot damn!" Vaike shouted in his usual boisterous manner. "Somebody done tore this joint UP!"

"And still no sign of Milord anywhere," Frederick breathed out in exasperation. "Where could he be? I pray that no serious harm has befallen him when we were separated…" "I don't believe the gods would wish such a horrid fate on our lord," a holy figure consoled the knight. "I do believe that he is out there in the harsh climate fighting with all he has to bring back our dear Exalt home." "I do wish that you're right about that?"

"Pray tell, who is this noble maiden before us?" Virion asked aloud, obviously charmed by the clergy's appearance. "My name is Libra sir," the clergy responded, "and not to sound rude or anything of the sort, but, I am a man, not a maiden." "Yes of course you a‒wait, did you say "you are a man"?" "Yes sir, a man" "Er, I ehm, *ahem* that is to say…er, my apologies my good man."

"Everybody be making with the quieting!" an aged mercenary bellowed. "Gregor has found clue to missing prince-man yes?" "Permit me to investigate further," Miriel volunteered. The rest of the Shepherds had crowded around the mage to see what had been discovered. After analyzing the spot for an extra 20 seconds Miriel proclaimed "How edifying. These blood-stained boot indentations are exact matches for Lord Chrom's own footwear." "So we discovered his foot prints?" Stahl asked, "That's a relief! Maybe we can track them down and see where old man Chrom is!"

"He's not here," Panne's voice came immediately, causing the other to look at her with funny expressions. "The manspawn prince was here but not anymore. Even amidst this lingering stench of death in the air I could make out his presence being here." "But if he's not here then where could he have gone?" Frederick was becoming increasingly nervous about Chrom's disappearance and began fretting for the man's wellbeing. "Hey, cheer up Freddy-bear!" Lissa chimed in. "We may have lost him but we'll get him back! Now we just have to find more clues…"

"Hey guys!" Robin called out to everyone. "Look, bloody footprints leading outside of here heading this-a-way!" The entire gang of soldiers came over to their tactician, Miriel being the first to examine the footprints. "Whaddya think Miriel? They match up to Chrom's at all?" "Verily so Robin," she confirmed, "They carry the same shape and patterns as the ones inside of the former enemy keep." "And they're leading all the way over in that direction." "Well then, we have no time to waste!" Frederick rallied the Shepherds and gave the command to march where the red bootprints had led them, with Panne leading the way to keep track of Chrom's scent. Sumia and Cordelia stuck to the air to see if they could find their missing prince amongst the vast stretch of terrain, and sure enough once they made it closer to the courtyard's entrance…

"Look!" Sumia exclaimed. "I think I can see another fort dead ahead! Looks like we're on the right track people!" "Careful Sumia, it might be a trap…" Cordelia warned. "I think it's best that we fly lower to the ground to avoid getting spotted, alright?" "Already one step ahead of you!" The two pegasus knights descended closer to where the rest of the Shepherds were, following Panne into their fourth fortress that day. This one, like the one before it, was totally trashed from a great massacre that took place sometime before their arrival.

"Well I'll be damned," Sully said. "Looks like someone went to town on this fort here." "Probably Chrom," Vaike added, "no wonder he always holds back on me when we train! Man, I need some catching up to do." Panne walked about the bloodstained floor, her nose hung into the air as she surveyed the dead stronghold. The stench of fresh death had assaulted her nose greatly alongside the scent of the manspawn prince's presence. This slaughter was not of him, though he did create it, confirming to the Taguel that this bloodshed was his handiwork. But the manspawn himself did not stay around long enough to admire his craft of death. "The prince lives," she stated. "I had not imagined the prince a savage advocate of war and death." "What's that supposed to mean?" Frederick asked, not capable of picturing his lord as a man of mass murder. "I can smell his essence here and no one else's bar the enemy's; the manspawn prince's own blood I cannot detect. Look at the bodies about you." The rest of the Shepherds had surveyed the corpses strewn about them; none of them were Chrom's but they were sufficiently devastated. This was a scary thought for some of them; they didn't want to picture Chrom as a ruthless murderer but if this was indeed his handiwork then they must have severely underestimated their lord's capacity for combat.

"Well since he isn't here," Robin started, "where is he now?" "The strongest trail of his scent was through the way we came from; these two strongholds are rested adjacent to the courtyard's entrance." "Maybe we should head to the courtyard then?" Robin asked. "Chrom must be already over there. I mean there's nowhere else I would think he would be right now. Shepherds! We march for the courtyard; I have a hunch that that's where we'll find our missing leader." With no objections the others followed their tactician out of the base and backtracked to find the entrance to their original destination. Not too worn out from the treks here and there the vigilante group steady kept moving forward with the intent to regroup with Chrom and rescue Emmeryn. "I can smell the manspawn prince dead ahead," Panne added. "His scent is stronger than ever now. But I can also make out another smell mixed with his." "Is it a familiar entity?" "No, it is not, at least not to me. The smell reeks with darkness; I suspect that it is a dark mage near the manspawn." "Milord must be in potential danger then!" Frederick stated. "We must make haste; who knows what could happen?!" With renewed confidence the group sped off to hurry and reunite with their leader.


"So, what's a royal of another country doing all the way out here?" Tharja asked the man before her, not sounded anything more than bored. "I figured that most born of royalty usually stay in their palaces or whatever fancy home they have, tending to political stuff." The inquiry didn't offend Chrom in the slightest, taking it how it was rather than an insult. "I guess that I'm not like most royals then," he answered. "I don't necessarily excel in diplomacy and politics, so I lead my army‒the Shepherds‒instead. The more important matters are handled by my sister, the Exalt, until I think that I'm ready to tackle them." "I see…" He could see her staring at him, analyzing him as her dark eyes scanned him up and down. What was going on in her mind Chrom wondered; then he looked at himself and found his form splotched with the blood of his enemies, most likely her allies. Their eyes met again after a minute of them both inspecting him; Tharja's face remained aloof while Chrom's shifted into uncertainty. 'This one's hard to read…she hasn't shown any emotion at anything so far, not even my‒er, unsightly appearance…hopefully I can maintain this absence of negatives, but I do wish I can get a positive out of this.'

"Looks like it was a real slaughter that you went through," Tharja stated after a minute of silence. "Must have been cannon fodder I'm guessing." Chrom was almost astounded at how not even the deaths of her comrades seemed to faze her, labeling them as cannon fodder even. Before he could say something she spoke again. "Then again the king always throws out small fries at the enemy to give them delusions of victory, all the while luring them into the dragon's den." "Dragon's den?" "Basically he saves his most powerful and sometimes the most vicious officers to deal with the enemy after he softened them up with easy kills." "Funny, I was actually thinking that he must have been doing that. Would you happen to know of his finest warriors then?" "He's got a general named Campari right in front of the courtyard entrance. Pretty stubborn, won't go down without a fight, but if he's killed then the rest of the army should disperse for now…" "I'm…not to be rude or anything, but, why exactly are you telling me all of this? Aren't they your comrades? Isn't this your country?" For the third time that day the dark mage's eyes threatened to burn holes in him even if she didn't appear to be channeling malice herself.

"…You asked and I answered. Simple as that. If my "comrades" want to throw their lives away for this war then they can go ahead. I don't particularly like any of them anyways so whatever, it's their call." "…And your country?" "My country? Eh, not that I hate it or anything, I'm just not the type to stick my neck out for it, for better or worse." Chrom didn't know how to feel about her response but he simply let it be for now and moved on to another question. "You yourself don't seem to be in any mood to get involved in the fighting." "We're all going to die one of these days, but why should I invite in my own demise so soon? To fight for a cause that I could care less for? Pfft." "I see, so you don't want to partake in this war?" "Well, I'm trying to keep my options open; if I am to die either on the battlefield to some enemy soldier because I carried out my king's wish or die by my king's hand for refusal to partake in his campaign then I'll simply take whatever I perceive to be the lesser poison. Wouldn't you?" "I…I'm not sure if I can answer that at the moment." "I'm sure you can. Let's say that you, right now, had a choice between fighting for a cause that you don't believe in at the behest of your sister‒" Tharja saw how Chrom looked to be ready to interject but she killed the response while it was still in his throat with but a single finger. "Not that I honestly think that she would want you do something you don't want to, but for the sake of conversation or whatever, let's just say that she commands you to go out and slaughter everyone who didn't follow whatever church she happens to follow, right now, would you do it?"

"Of course not," Chrom indignantly answered on a reflex. Awkwardly coughing after the slip, Chrom decided to give Tharja a thought out answer. "I cannot, at this moment, bring myself to carry out her wish. I would defy her." "Okay then, but what if‒emphasis on "what if"‒she tells you that if you don't that she will personally have you murdered?" "I still wouldn't do it," Chrom answered again, the answer already clear in his mind. "Good, good, now…what if she decided to up the ante by threatening to kill them all herself for your disobedience?" "I would do whatever it took to stop her from doing so." "What if she threatened the life of someone dear to you and threatened to kill everyone you loved each day until you willingly relented? Do you think that you, right now, could withstand all of your close ones' deaths and not go crazy with hatred if you disobeyed your sister to the bitter end? Do you think that you have the strength to defy her to the bitter end to begin with? And even if you did resist her and after everything is said and done, was your act of defiance worth all of the pain that you and possibly everyone else had to go through?" Chrom didn't immediately respond this time because he didn't have a response to such a question. She did say that it was all hypothetical situations and that it was unlikely to happen now, but if such circumstances were true, would he still uphold his sense of right and wrong, his sense of justice, and would it be worth upholding it through every situation? For the first time in his life, he felt that he couldn't answer a question asked of him. "It shouldn't be that hard to figure it out. What would you honestly do in each of those situations if you could make a choice?"

"…I don't think that I can‒I mean, I don't think I should answer your question right now. I hate to end this conversation so soon but I have my sister to rescue right now. That was my objective here and I should be getting back to it." "Sure, go ahead and rescue your sister or whatever." "You…will you still be available when I have accomplished my mission here?" "I don't know; I could be dead by the time you get back, or you might get killed either before or after you rescue your sister. Who knows what the future holds…I might but I can't divine it at the moment." Chrom did not want this opportunity to slip through his fingers, not after he had come so close. "May I ask you something?" "Don't you have somewhere to be?" "I‒I do, it's just…will you‒I mean, may I have you accompany me there?" "What for?" "Well, um, I…I believe that you could help me in saving Emmeryn." Chrom was starting to find it very eerie that Tharja still held her whatever expression since he first saw her. "You're hiding something," she bluntly told him. "I may not be able to currently see into the future but just looking at you right now tells me that you're not being honest with me." "Uh, I er, well…I actually also wanted to find a dark mage to recruit into my army and well, you're here and‒" "You would want to recruit me? To trust me? What if this is all just a ruse to lower your guard and stab you in the back the moment an opportunity comes up?" "I'll take that chance. I believe that my sister would trust you; I'm trying to learn from her and better myself by adopting some of her best qualities into me. And even if this is just a ploy, I would still have to watch my back anyways, whether you came with me or not, and that's not just counting this battlefield either." "And yet that's still not the only reason you want me around I'm betting," Tharja deduced. "There has to be another reason you want me to join you besides what you've told me up to now." The dark mage was on to him now, and he indeed had one other reason why he desires her to accompany him. He really wanted to keep her though, and he was going to tell her exactly why he wanted her even if he ended up offending her or if she laughed at him. He gathered up his courage and proceeded to tell her the truth while trying to fight of the hot blush creeping onto his face.

"*Ahem* Yes, there is another reason I want you to come with me. It's because you…I find you to be an interesting person whose company I enjoy to some extent and…you're very…beautiful." Chrom could feel the oncoming ridicule he was sure to get because he swore that Tharja actually raised an eyebrow at him, a change from the deadpan look she had. "Really?" she asked him, this time with a hint of amusement in her voice. "Well, it's the truth you wanted, right?" "Pretty much, and I guess that that explains why you were eyeing me up like some tantalizing piece of meat earlier," she said to him, her lips now curled into a smirk, "Are you sure that you're going to be okay enough having a Plegian "bombshell" like me tagging along?" "I-I'll be fine." "Really?" "Positive?" she asked again with a full blown grin on her face, "I don't know, I'd be quite a liability if my commander can't keep his eyes off of me for ten seconds or so." "I‒I can prove it to you! Your looks won't be…too much of a distraction I can assure you." "Really now? Well, how about it then?" Chrom watched as Tharja slowly shifted into what he could only make out as a battle stance, her legs crooked in position, purple tome floating out of her grasp held aloft by dark power with its pages opened while what appeared to be an Elthunder tome levitated out from behind her and to her side, crackling with electric energy and opening its pages as well. "A little sparring match should be efficient enough to test that claim. I'll consider you focused enough not to be distracted by the sexy if you manage to beat me one-on-one. How's that sound?" "Perfectly fine by me." "Good."

Before long a dark light began creeping out of her purple tome and onto her left hand while the Elthunder tome surged electricity into her right, surrounding them with their power, and a thick violet and red aura emanated off of her entirety in a slow blaze. If Chrom thought that this was an intimidating sight he would soon change his mind, as two ghastly arms colored pitch black and surrounded with either a violet or red outline clawed their way out of her chest, the red appendage attaching itself inside of Chrom's own chest while the violet one simply floated freely near the dark mage.

"Gah!" he shouted in surprise. "Wh-what is this? A dark art of yours?" "It's called "Anathema": it's a curse that doesn't cause any harm but it does cause all of my victims within a three yard radius of me to fail evading my attacks and possible "critical strikes" ten percent of the time. This one is called "Hex": it's the same as Anathema but it affects everyone within a single yard of me and causes them to fail avoiding my attacks fifteen percent of the time. Both of these curses' effects stack if I have them both out, which I do right now, meaning my one yard victims will have a twenty-five percentage of failing to dodge my magic. Oh, and this tome I have to my right? It's called "Nosferatu"." "I've dealt with someone who used a Nosferatu tome before." "Good, that way you'll know to try to avoid it whenever you can…if you can …" The first time she laughed Chrom expected it to be that of a deadpan chuckle, but it was that of a sinister giggle that just sent the worst of chills up his spine. He drew forth his own weapon, his trusted Falchion, and held it in front of him as the battle was about to commence…


"Is that the courtyard entrance I see up ahead?" Robin called out to the fliers above them. "Yes Robin!" Sumia replied. "If we hurry we might be able to catch Chrom before anything bad happens to him!" Cordelia could've sworn that she was seeing things so she leaned from her pegasus to take a better look; two specks were spotted just before the gates, standing in a stare down fashion. As they got closer and closer Cordelia could make out the figure of‒

"Chrom!" she shouted in slight excitement, catching everyone's attention. "Everyone, I can see Lord Chrom dead ahead! And…I see him standing before what looks like a dark mage!" "What're they doing?" Robin yelled back up to Cordelia. "It looks like they're both getting ready to battle each other!" "Quickly everyone, Milord's very life could depend on it!" Frederick bellowed to the rest of the Shepherds, and in response everyone gained speed to rendezvous with their leader and assist him. Chrom and Tharja themselves kept the other in their sights as they both walked about in a predatory manner, waiting to see who would strike first or spot an opening that they could use to their advantage.

"Let me see if I understand you correctly;" Chrom started while keeping his stance, "if I defeat you here and now, you will join me as an official member of the Shepherds?" "Sure, why not?" Tharja said to him. "That's why you stuck around this long right?" "And if you defeat me?" Chrom asked. Tharja's smile widened further with a wicked glee. "If I win, you'll agree to be my personal slave. You'll keep everything you own, halidom included and all that other jazz, but you'll be required to answer to me above all else, maybe except for your sister, and if you don't I have clearance to punish you however I see fit. Don't worry, I won't ask of you anything particularly heinous…" "Agreed," Chrom said without hesitation or second thoughts. "I'm asking you to become subservient to me so I suppose that it's fair that your reward will be the same thing." And just as they both prepared to pounce forth at each other the sound of rapid footsteps, hooves, and wing beating caught their ears. Their faces shifting to confusion they both wondered who those sounds belonged to, and just as they swiftly turned around they were greeted with the sight of the entire Shepherds on their way over to their spot, all of them armed and ready for a brawl. "Who're they?" Tharja asked with disinterest. "They're the Shepherds that I command. I came here with them to save Emmeryn and stop Gangrel's war but I was separated from them back at the desert." "And I'm assuming that they're here to help you?" "With saving Emmeryn, yes, but with this duel, no." The two of them remained in their battle stances as the Shepherds had finally stopped right before them. 'Damnit,' Chrom thought to himself. 'I wish that I had gotten this done before they showed up…'

"Chrom!" Robin said, relieved that they finally caught up with their partner. "Thank the Gods that you're safe! We've been‒wh-what the?" Chrom wondered why they all started giving him shocked or quizzical expressions. "Uh, guys? What's with the weird looks you're giving me?" "Milord, may I ask what that is protruding from your chest?" Confused at what Frederick asked him he gave him a lifted eyebrow. "Protruding out of my chest? What are you talking abou‒…oh…" He honestly forgot about the Anathema curse that he was under and saw how it trailed all the way back to Tharja's own chest. Naturally, the others got into a defensive positon while Frederick took a threatening advance closer to the dark mage atop his horse, his face showing how ready he was to mow her down at a moment's notice. "I take it that you're the one responsible for this? What exactly did you do to our leader?" Tharja herself adopted a face that would've had anyone else their recoil in fear bar a select few which included Frederick. "It's a curse. A nonlethal combat curse." "What does it do?" "Frederick listen," Chrom tried to tell him but was cut off by his knight, who kept his focus on the dark mage below him. "Milord, I would ask of this woman to explain the curse herself and then for you to confirm if it is indeed what she claims. Now, what exactly does this curse entail?" "It's called Anathema; it affects everyone within a three yard radius and subjects them to fail evading my attacks and critical strikes by an added ten percentage." "Oh, everyone you say? Then tell me why I haven't been affected by this curse, or rather everyone else except Chrom?"

"You want to start something tin-man?" Tharja growled at him who refused to wilt even slightly under her hateful gaze, "because I swear that I will put this curse on you and everyone else if you want with an honest-to-the-gods smile on my face…" "She does not lie," Panne called out to Frederick, "only the truth has been spoken." Frederick remained where he stood staring down at the dark mage who fiercely responded in kind for a half a minute, then turned to Chrom. "Is this not what she told you Milord?" "It's exactly what she told me. Not word for word but that is the exact same description." Frederick turned his eyes back to Tharja still demanding more answers. "And what of the other arm that protrudes from your being? Is it similar or different?" "It's Hex; it does the same thing as Anathema but only works on those within one yard of me and has an added fifteen percent of failed evades." "She still speaks the truth," Panne confirmed, but Frederick wasn't finished yet. "If all of that is true then why does the Anathema curses only affect Chrom?" "It and Hex will only activate if I believe that someone is going to fight me without any shadow of doubt." "So you don't willingly trigger it?" Chrom asked Tharja. "The curse is strictly linked to my own thoughts about whether or not someone is going to attack me, so no manual trigger." "She is still telling the truth," Panne added, to which Tharja finally decided to question the way she knew. "Not that I have any reason to lie to any of you, how exactly did you know that I was telling the truth?" "The Taguel can feel when another is either truthful or deceitful. It lies in our increased hearing ability." "Tharja had no idea what a Taguel was so she figured that it was magic related; that's how she always figured things out. Now Robin had a question to ask the dark mage and Chrom.

"If you two are truly about to fight each other, would you care to tell us all why exactly?" As much as Chrom didn't want to let them in on it, he at this point had little favorable choice but to tell them of his plans. Panne would expose any of his lies that he could invent anyways so he faced them with as much dignity as he could.

"We are about to duel with each other." "Duel with each other? Here and now? Chrom, you know that‒" "I am very well aware of the situation Robin. Don't you think I know that?" "Then why this?" "I wish to recruit her into the Shepherds, she'll only agree if I defeat her in a duel between us." Robin did not miss how Chrom emphasized "us" which meant "me and her alone, no interferences". But as always as Robin knew, there was also the other person asking for a prize upon their victory. Before they could confirm this Chrom cut off their thoughts with a question. "Isn't that the courtyard past us?" "Well yes but‒" "In that case I command you to take the Shepherds with you then. Take out a man named Campari; if he's down then the rest of whatever enemy soldiers who are still around should flee." "Wait a minute Chrom, aren't you‒" "Going with you? I will catch up with you once I am finished here but I will not be escorting you there." "Wait, what?" Vaike questioned. "Dude, are you losing your mind?" "This is not something that I will pass up on Vaike; you are all going with Robin for now and that is an order." "Chrom, this is‒we need you for this to work!" "Did I not ask you to design this plan so that it will still come to pass in the absence of either one of us in the first place?" Robin flinched at the commanding tone that Chrom spoke to them with; now they were convinced that this woman had done something to him. "The plan was for either me or you to signal Phila's Pegasus Knight Squadron that they have clearance in the sky to carry Emmeryn to safety. If Tharja was not here and had I not planned on recruiting her into the Shepherds army then I would have simply saved you the trouble of doing so and would have done it myself. Let me ask you again: how much does this plan depend on my presence alone to succeed?" "It…doesn't…" "That's exactly what I thought." "Chrom, come on…" "I'm staying here to carry out what I said I was going to do before I reunite with you." "But‒" "I had already made up my mind on enlisting a dark mage before we had departed here, and Tharja here had nothing to do with it. I'm not sending you out to finish this up because I don't feel like it; I will join you once I am finished here. And relax, no one is killing anyone here. Now go on to the courtyard; that's an order." Part of Robin wanted to tell Chrom that he didn't have to listen to him all the time but he didn't want to waste any more time here; Chrom seemed dead set on this and he entrusted Robin to be a leader in his steed. "Alright, you win this one Chrom. Come one everyone, Chrom will join us when he's finished with his duel, but let's not hold up for him; he's trusting us to give it all we got for this one." As much as the others, especially Frederick, still didn't like this idea, they decided not to go against their leader's wishes. So they marched on into the courtyard, each one passing Chrom a worried glance bar Panne who kept her eyes ahead. Once they had all made it through Chrom turned his attention back to Tharja. "Glad to have that issue out of the way. Now then, what say we pick up where we last left off?" "About time," Tharja agreed, getting back into a battle position as did Chrom, "I was starting to get bored enough to lose interest in this." And as they had their weapons prepped and stances ready, Chrom dashed off to strike Tharja with Falchion just as she charged her right hand with Elthunder. And then, they clashed.