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-oOo-
It was time.
Grima lay bleeding before her, moments from death; seeing her own eyes staring back at her in disgust sent a shiver down her spine. All their sacrifices, their pain and despair, everything they had done was building towards this very moment.
Adrenaline fading away, she began to feel everything. Both she and Chrom had broken away from the rest of the Shepherds to rush Grima in an attempt to end this battle as quickly as possible. Although the plan worked brilliantly, it was not without its consequences. Separated from the rest of the Shepherds, they lacked the usual amount of protection the group awarded them. She had taken a particularly brutal hit to the head from the end of an enemy sword, just barely twisting away to turn a lethal attack into simply a particularly painful one. Sweat mixed with the blood lacing down her face as her brows furrowed in a grimace of pain. Her muscles screamed at her, protesting against the abuse she subjected them to. A voice in the back of her mind whispered for her to rest, to lay down her sword and tome and simply collapse, but she shook her head in refusal. She could see Chrom behind her struggling to stand, a vicious swipe trailing across his leg. The glimpse told her it was a grotesque wound, but not a life-threatening one, something for which she would be forever grateful. One session with Lissa and he would be good as new.
She smiled at the thought of Lissa admonishing him for breaking away from the rest of the Shepherds in what would undoubtedly be labeled a reckless action. Surely they would both be treated to a lengthy scolding. Most battles would end with such a disagreement brought on by either her's or Chrom's actions, sometimes both of theirs. Chrom would apologize profusely and Lissa would threaten future bodily harm should he ever do it again (he inevitably would should the situation call for it). Frederick would stand there, solemn-faced and grave, adding ammunition to Lissa's verbal assault, but ultimately they would laugh and share a collective sigh of relief at the lack of casualties on their side. Her eyes watered at the thought of not being present for it this time around.
Turning back to face Grima, she had a choice. She could either allow Chrom to deal the final blow and effectively curse a future generation to face the same tribulations they dealt with, or take the kill herself and end this evil for good. Only in this way may the fell dragon be destroyed for good and all, Naga had said so herself. To any tactician with half a brain the decision was obvious, even if the cost was her own life. Why curse the future with this monstrosity when victory was so clearly guaranteed now? She had the power to end this now, but was the price too high?
Of course not.
Who was she to put her life before that of the world? She was many things: a brilliant tactician, the beloved wife of the Exalt, queen of Ylisse, a devoted mother, some even considered her heir to the throne of Plegia; however, she was not worth all the lives in the world. She was unwillingly born with the sole purpose of bringing this wicked evil into the world, but here, now, she would willingly die if it meant protecting those she loved.
"Time to end this." Chrom's voice shook her out of her reverie. Slowly he limped his way towards her, towards Grima, Falchion held tightly in his shaking hand. She ached to move back to him, to support his weight off the damaged leg, but unfortunately she had run out of time. She had to end this now.
Gathering the last of her strength, she flipped through the pages of her beloved Thoron tome, coming to the page of the powerful spell. So often she held back on using this particular tome, opting to use Arcthunder far more often. She would tell herself to save the Thoron tome for when it was needed most. Ironically that left the powerful tome virtually untouched. What a waste, she thought to herself, lips pressed together into a sad smile. Maybe Morgan will be able to put it to some use…
One by one the words flowed out of her mouth as she readied the spell. Above her the magic orb appeared with a shower of crackling lightning barely held in check, her arm raised as if holding the ball in place.
"What…what are you doing?!" Grima snarled at her.
She paused before answering, hoping her voice would not give away the emotions lying beneath. "For once, I'm glad you and I are the same. Now I can give my life to protect those I care for…" Somehow she managed to speak steadily, firmly in fact. She meant what she said, she would gladly give her life for her loved ones, but beneath it all, she was very much afraid. She didn't want to die! She had so much to live for, she had a family who needed her! She still had so much to teach Morgan in the art of being a great Tactician (she had yet to give birth to him!) and Lucina needed her mother to show her how to properly dress lest she grow up wearing atrociously spotted dresses. And Chrom…Chrom would be heartbroken. Wasn't he the one to say that he wanted his children to have both their father and mother to raise them? She wished she could turn back to Chrom and wrap herself in his strength, but she didn't know what she would see in his eyes and feared it would only break her resolve. She wanted so badly to stay here, with her family and friends, but unfortunately fate had a greater purpose for her in mind, one which she could not deny.
"You would not dare!"
Hearing the fear and desperation in Grima's voice gave her strength she so desperately needed. "I would and I will. The evils you would visit on this world are unthinkable... In some way, I—we share the blame. It's only right we meet our end together!" Throwing her arm forward, the Thoron spell sped towards its intended target.
"Nooo!" Grima screamed in pain as the magic made contact. The dragon head roared out in agony sending shockwaves throughout its body, knocking her and Chrom to the ground. She looked on with a sense of horror as Grima's body began to dissipate in a cloud of dark magic, seemingly fading away from reality. Is this what will happen to me? She surely had only minutes, maybe even seconds, to wait to find out. Suddenly, in a blinding flash of light, Grima was gone.
She couldn't hold back the half-sob/half-laugh that escaped her mouth at seeing Grima disappear. Grima is gone! Her excitement bubbled up stronger now as she sat back resting on the balls of her feet, body shaking as she laughed harder. For a moment, for a brief wondrous moment, she felt victorious, a final genuine smile gracing her lips.
"You promised…" Chrom spoke, his voice cracking at the end. She froze, knowing full well this conversation would occur, but still not fully prepared for it. Willing herself to stand, muscles screaming out again in protest, she finally turned around to face him.
Down on his knees and leaning heavily on Falchion (his leg must be feeling worse, she thought idly), he looked up at her with wide eyes and a horrified expression she had only seen once before. She didn't know what waited for her, whether she would remember any of this at all, or if she would even be whole enough to have a memory, but the thought of this being one of the final images she would have of him broke her already shattered heart even further.
She had to be strong for him, just one last time. For the last time…
Praying to Naga for strength, she walked towards him, dropping her sword and tome and leaving them behind. "Chrom, I'm sorry, truly I am, but all this destruction, I couldn't let it happen again. I couldn't let Grima have another chance at victory; I had to stop it now." The words were tumbling out of her now in what was almost a crazed, rambling speech. She couldn't stop. She may not have another chance ever again. Looking into his eyes she felt her own start to waver, a tear slowly trailing down her cheek, but continued on. "I'm sorry for lying to you, for promising not to sacrifice myself, but I will not apologize for doing it. I love you, Lucina, Morgan and Lissa, Frederick…everyone! But even so, I could not willingly stand here and allow you to doom a future generation to the same heartache we have faced these past years." Finally dropping down to her knees in front of him, she paused to lift her hand up to drag her fingers along his cheek. He closed his eyes and leaned into her hand. She relished the action. "Haven't we lost enough? Hasn't Ylisse lost enough?"
With a force she hadn't thought possible given his current condition, he pulled her into a crushing embrace. Burying her face into his neck, she felt her tears come in earnest now. Sobs broke free as she lifted her arms to encircle his neck and hold onto him. "I can't lose you," he spoke so quietly she wasn't entirely sure she heard him right.
"I'm so sorry." For this, she was. She never wanted to leave him. They were supposed to have a lifetime together. She was his wife…is his wife and it is her duty to be there for him, for their family, and for their kingdom. She is supposed to have a lifetime to grow old with him, poke fun at his gray hairs while she tries to cover up her own. She is supposed to be there to spoil chubby-faced grandchildren. Lucina, Morgan, please forgive me. Now a lifetime would only consist of these last moments with him. She couldn't help the spark of anger that settled in the pit of her stomach, but it was quickly replaced by fear as a shiver lanced through her, causing her breath to hitch. It had started. She was fading away.
Pulling back, he held her face with both hands. She saw his eyes shining with unshed tears, but also with a blaze of determination. "Naga said that if our bonds are strong enough, that you could come back. That you wouldn't be gone forever. Promise me…" He looked down now and she caught his flinch at the sight of her increasing transparency. He swallowed and continued on. "Promise me that you'll return. That you'll find your way back to me."
"I'll find a way. I promise." This time she was sincere. Brilliant tactician that she was, nothing would stop her from finding a way back home if it was possible. She didn't dare dwell on the possibility of that dreaded if.
Hope igniting in his eyes, he pulled her in for a kiss. It wasn't slow or gentle like their kisses usually were. He pressed his lips against hers roughly, whether to burn it to memory, or confirm for himself that she was still here, she wasn't sure. Her hands ran up to his hair and buried themselves in it like she had so many times before. She always did enjoy the feel of his hair against her fingertips and in her grasp. One hand ran up to her hair and entangled itself there while the other drifted down to the small of her back to press her hips into his. His tongue swept across her lower lip, causing her to let out a soft moan and open up for him. He explored her, ravaged her. What was it he had called himself so long ago, a wyvern in heat? This degree of affection out in the open would have been scandalous on any other occasion, but here, now, she would let him have this moment.
And suddenly the pressure was gone. His moments stopped all at once and he pulled back. The horrified look returned to his face, but was quickly covered up by a tight smile that lacked any real happiness. She tried to tighten her hold on him, only for her hands to fall through.
Oh. Her lips formed the shape, but no sound escaped her. She clinched her hands into fists, only to find that she felt no tightness from it, no feel of fingers digging into palms. Her muscles no longer ached, and her head no longer throbbed. Even the intense press of his lips against hers was now a mere ghost of a memory. She was more spirit than man.
She had thought through this precise moment before, what she would say as she lay dying. Before they were married, she imagined a death on the battlefield. Maybe she had turned too late, aimed too high, or stupidly just wasn't paying attention, causing a sword or spell to hit her in just the right (or wrong)spot. Maybe she was outnumbered, or sacrificed herself for one of the Shepherds, either way she thought her odds of dying in the middle of a raging battlefield to be decently high. In that scenario she hoped she would have time for a Goodbye, or maybe even a Thanks for the memories, or if she was feeling particularly prestigious about it, maybe a It's been an honor. She wasn't silly enough to think she'd have time for some rousing farewell speech, probably just a few words at most. Sometimes she thought she may not even have time to say anything. Maybe the enemy did a fantastic job of thoroughly killing her, knocking the life out of her before she even hit the ground. In these imaginings she could only hope that before death came knocking she had managed to leave everything and everyone on a high note.
After she married Chrom and had Lucina, she refused to allow herself to dwell on such morbid thoughts. She couldn't very well die on a battlefield, she was a mother! She had a child she needed to raise and a husband who would be lost without her. Whereas before she would run into battle with all the gusto of a raging bull, now she would take more precise and measured steps. She never dared to rush into battle without someone at her back, usually Chrom. She made sure to carry an extra Elixir or two, and to always, always, have a backup for her backup plan. She double- and triple-checked her weapons before battle, lest one of them break while fending off some demented Risen and leave her utterly defenseless. And though it didn't come up often, if she could at all avoid battle, she would. She was determined to be there for her family, and Gods help the Brigand, or Risen, that tried to stop her.
But this…she couldn't stop this.
Staring out at the man she loved as he watched the woman he loved die, she could only think of a single thing to say. No heartfelt declarations of love, no messages she wanted him to dole out to their friends, or final requests. Instead she left him with the only thing that came to mind, the only bit of reassurance she could provide him with that would hopefully help ease the pain that would surely come. "I promise."
No longer feeling the heaviness she now associated with a body, she felt lighter than she had ever been before. Her cloudy vision left everything in a hazy washout of what she knew it truly was. Colors lost their vibrancy and lines lost their sharpness. The fear that had found its home within her began to lift and her mind began to clear. She could swear she heard the far off sounds of hurried footsteps, hooves, and wings, but she could make no connection to what it might mean. Darkness was closing in around her, taking everything she once was. As her last seconds of clarity and consciousness slipped away she grabbed onto the last thing she heard. The words of a broken man speaking to a ghost: "I love you."
-oOo-
AN: Just a scene I wanted to expand upon. I hated how seemingly blasé the Avatar is about dying, especially if you ship them with Chrom. I mean, C'MON!, you're dying! You don't know if you're coming back! I wanted more emotion than the tidbit the game gives and this is what I came up with. I intentionally left identifiable details out so that it could be any Avatar with any name. Hopefully I did the scene justice. It's one of my favorites, I'll probably make a one-shot for another of my favorites. First time posting anything in a long time, so reviews are very much appreciated though not necessary. :)