Interlude: Victory! (ish)
Tactician of Ylisse: Robin
"Chrom." As he finished talking, Chrom turned away, seeming to actively deflate. "Chrom!" Knocking my hood back, and letting the Fell blade in my fingers disperse into nothing, I put a hand on his shoulder, only for him to shrug it off again. Resigning myself to need to protect him from whatever came next, I made to conjure another blade, when the next set of soldiers to step from the doorway onto the plateau sank to one knee.
"Priestess." None of them bore the mark of the Grimeal, nor could I feel any magical taint on their souls, leaving me to wonder just what all of this meant. A sizable majority of the Plegian people paid at least lip service to the Grimeal, or course, but a portion of that same populace paid at least that same courtesy to the King I just assisted the Ylissean Prince in striking down, which had to count against me in some fashion. "Lady Aversa instructed us to escort you." That the order came from Aversa only aroused further suspicion.
"I see." While Aversa and I stood at fundamentally opposed goals, for now, I felt I could continue to trust her, at least until she knew we stood on opposite sides. "And where is Aversa now?" Of course, that didn't preclude exercising some degree of reasonable caution.
"Waiting for you below."
"Take us to her." Putting the commanding aura on once again, I resigned myself to maintaining the Grimeal disguise for a little longer. Lowering my voice, I turned to Chrom, "Coming?" He nodded, and we drifted down from the promontory, with many others in the castle bowing or kneeling as we passed, leaving a sinking feeling in my stomach the farther we walked. Aversa greeted us at the main entrance, surrounded by a small contingent of Plegian soldiers, while the Shepherds hung in the middle distance, around where Emmeryn presumably lay.
"Leave us…" Aversa gestured and the soldiers scattered.
"Chrom, go check on the others." He didn't answer, but did start heading towards the Shepherds, Lissa and Sumia rushing out to meet him.
"Well done, Sister." Aversa purred. "Very well done. Gangrel is dead, and Plegia bows to you." Sauntering forwards, until only a few feet separated us, Aversa spread her hands. "Father would be proud of you."
"What did you call me?". Grima rumbled with enjoyment, something I made a conscious effort to avoid thinking about. Today contained to many surprises, and I just…couldn't handle more of them. Pretending to be the sort of psychopathic monster this country believed me to be drained me more than I cared to admit, and my capacity to handle surprises was at an all-time low.
"You don't remember?" Pity flared in her eyes, drawing a sharp spike of anger in my chest, and I felt my magic roil in response to my emotions. "Oh, poor dear…"
"Aversa, you are trying my patience." Before she could speak, however, Chrom came sprinting over, almost tackling me in his shock.
"Robin! She's alive!" Avera's magic flared with rage, and only my sharp glare stilled her from attacking Chrom for what she perceived as an indignity. "Emmeryn is alive!"
-FE:DUL-
Child of Darkness: Morgan
Although the others slept, I found myself unable to rest, even now that we returned to civilization and safety. Excess energy bubbled under my skin, in a way I could never remember happening before. Even when my magic awakened, nothing resembled this feeling. Then again, not even the fall of Ylisse unsettled me like staring down my own Mother, the Lady of Grima herself, and witnessing her defend Lucina, before even acknowledging me as someone she considered worth of respect. Rolling the edge of my cloak between my fingers, I clamped down on an instinctive frown. For a long time, I wondered why that cloak was left with me, what my parents intended for me. Whatever Mother hoped for, I could not imagine she wished for her daughter to become as I did. Then again, considering the protections woven into the fabric, perhaps she did. With the benefits
Somewhere behind me, armor rattled, and I felt her presence on the rooftop. Even with hundreds of years to perfect her control, Mother, suffered from being simply too powerful to mask her presence, leaving her to linger at the edge of my senses.
"Is there something you need?" Although we spoke briefly outside the temple of Naga, we avoided each other in the time since that day, leaving me uncertain of how to interact with her, or even what to think of her as. Thus, I did my best to avoid her, and I got the feeling she me.
A hum. "Sleep eludes me." Although I didn't speak with Mother, I'd spoken with Lucina about her at length, and I got the impression Lucina viewed Mother in much the same way the rest of us viewed Lucina; a one-woman army, unconcerned with the weaknesses mere mortals were bound to, as Cynthia might say. I knew most of those descriptions of Lucina were founded on lies, and those three words told me that several centuries of life didn't change that. Thus, I elected to make an educated guess as to the truth of the matter.
"You are borrowing Lucina's dreams." Kjelle made a considerable issue out of that, until I reiterated that magic could not bend the mind. I couldn't decide if my assertion settled her mind or not, but I didn't have the time to dig into Kjelle's feelings before she headed off to chew on Yarne over something or another.
"I am." Long and tired, Mother's sigh bore little resemblance to the calm assertive figure she presented every moment lead. "Where the means available to me, I would go forwards in time, purely to kill those who thrust this life upon her in a manner more suited to their crimes." True venom dripped from her words, not the faux anger she hurled at Naga, but something darker, and colder. Even if Lucina and the Shepherd's stories were true, that did not change the inescapable reality that before me stood the Lady of Grima, and that persona stood out in that moment.
Although I shared her sentiments, having watched the weight of a war change the woman I considered my sister, I felt compelled to point out, "I doubt it would change our future."
"It would not. They died shortly after your departure, dragged before Grima, and tortured, before being killed. Unable to lead him to Lucina, Grima tore them to pieces and left them to rot after. It would give me a great deal of personal satisfaction, which I consider valuable." While a part of me agreed that personal satisfaction could prove gratifying, I also knew that vengeance tended to lead down an unpleasant path, so I could only shrug.
"I will defer to your experience." The words drew a snort from my Mother, and I could not decide if the sound was mocking or amused, before we lapsed into silence. "How is Lucina?" Mother jerked. "You have spent more time with her in recent memory than I, and she trusts you enough to let you borrow her dreams, and to stand by her side in combat."
"Mmm." A nod, deliberate and calm could have been a stalling tactic. "The latter of which she was given little choice about, as we traveled with the Shepherds." The stories of 'Gri' and 'Marth' bore that idea out. "I'm sure that you have been regaled with those stories, and complaints about our disappearance." She sighed. "You should talk to her yourself Morgan. You know Lucina far better than I do…" She trailed off.
"Perhaps." I did consider her my sister, although I did not want to say that aloud. It seemed spiteful for no reason. Otherwise, I kept silent, content to wait for Mother's answer.
"She hasn't killed me, so I suppose there is something to be said for that." A small frown danced across Mothers expression. "She's relaxed somewhat, since we confronted Naga. It's odd. She is…freer, with her words, than before. As if a weight lifted off her shoulders with you and Cynthia present."
"We…balance each other out." That earned a small laugh. "The three of us." Mother's shoulders rolled, although I didn't sense disagreement with my statement.
"You do." Preempting my confusion, she shrugged. "I had to do something to keep myself from going insane while Grima controlled my body, and in the following centuries." Unbidden a shiver ran through my limbs. Although she spoke of it with a casual air, I could feel the shift in Mother's magic, an abrupt roiling surge in keeping with the turmoil discussing her forced possession brought. "Figuring out as best I could what makes each and every one of you tick seemed like the best way to pass the time, outside of taunting Grima about nearly being killed by children."
"I'm sorry." The words slipped out. Mother stiffened, jaw setting into the same hard line as when she turned on Naga, a sure sign that she didn't agree. "Given the evidence, I should have figured it out. I got most of the way there, and just…" Didn't consider the idea, even though it all added up.
"When looking back upon the situation it is easy to see the information we may have missed, or did not consider." Tension fading, Mother offered a dismissive gesture. "You cannot be blamed for not considering that your own Mother was possessed by the God you were fighting, and you were by extension fighting you own parent. In your position, I would have done the same things you did. Fought and tried to kill because those options allowed for survival." She flicked her cloak. "I imagine that cloak left you with enough problems that considering if your parent was responsible for the devastation would only lead to more potential issues."
"Perhaps." Glancing down at my own garment again, I sighed. "I've worn this cloak since I could walk, or so Sumia told me." Fixing her with a hard stare, I tried to find some hint as to her feelings under the façade. When I apologized, even getting a hint as to her feelings from her aura proved more difficult than I would have liked. "Why?"
"Protection." I jerked, caught by surprise. I expected my answers, but protection was not one of them. "And because I trusted Sumia would suspect the truth, based on your appearance and magical talent. It seemed better to let her known for certain, than to leave her guessing if you were in fact my child or just a hilarious coincidence. And once your magic manifested, I knew the runes on that would keep you safe."
"They did." Many times. Both from myself and others. "But how would my cloak prove my parentage to Sumia?"
"Because we became somewhat friendly during my brief times with the Shepherds, and she if one knew me, there are several visual identifiers on that cloak to mark it as mine." Most of them bloodstains. "Sumia would be able to pick that up immediately, and she knew enough of my past to guess at what might have happened and why I did it. Along with gather enough arguments to beat me down with guilt next time we spoke. Which she did." I couldn't see Sumia guilt tripping anyone but perhaps Mother knew her differently. Or at least their shared experience would be different. "If anyone should apologize Morgan, it is me."
It was easy to assume she meant about abandoning me, but something about her tone suggested otherwise, and I wouldn't accept such an apology anyways. "What do you mean?"
Mother's expression flickered, and for the first time since we 'met' her façade dropped, and I got the true impression that she had lived for centuries. Beneath the swirling magic and regal bearing, a weightiness that no other human possessed lingered. "Unlike the rest of your compatriots who perhaps can blame me for their situations in an abstract sense, your circumstances are my fault, entirely and exclusively…. with very little gained in return." Wry smile fading into deep seated guilt, she snorted. "The regalia of a Priestess of Grima, a bloodline cursed with immense magical power, and a connection to the being that destroyed the world, capped off with that technically you would be next in line for the Plegian throne." I did know that, although I considered it unimportant. My connection or lack thereof to royalty did not matter.
For a long while, I considered her. Unlike me, Mother kept a tight rein on her magic, so that while I could sense it, unless something affected her control, sensing her magic was all I could do. While I knew that age brought extra control, everything I knew about magic and how it moved through bloodlines told me that Mother would only be someone better than I at controlling her magic, and I could not keep my power suppressed for that long. Indeed, while she performed feats of amazing magic, teleporting, and small casual displays of power, I had a hard time reconciling the woman before me with the possessed figure I fought in Ylisse. Having done the same thing for years, I could see that she trickled information to the others, random tidbits and facts that ingratiated her to them, without exactly revealing anything concrete. On occasion when someone asked about the Future, I saw the discomfort in her eyes, before it passed. Lucina saw it too, although she never said a word. None of this made sense when compared to the woman who all but dared Naga to engage her in single combat. "You never did explain why you carry Falchion." She opened her mouth to speak. "Not your half-baked story about not knowing. You know."
Her fingers brushed across the hilt of the aforementioned sword. "I…six hundred years after you left, I began to realize the world was doomed. Nothing could challenge Grima, and no artifact we might dig up from Thabes would change that fact, despite the beliefs of many survivors. To that end, I knew you had gone back, but I also knew you didn't know anything. I lack the magical power to manipulate time myself, and Grima would not entertain such a request, leaving me to choice but to turn to Naga. Given my heritage and past, simply asking the Divine Dragon for aid would see me killed on the spot, so I set out to reassemble the Fire Emblem."
"I was under the impression it was destroyed." I couldn't help the interruption. Mother shrugged.
"I can't say why Grima chose to keep it intact, although I suspect even he could not destroy it. The Fall of Ylisse is not a time I remember well. In either case, it took nearly a century to complete that task, and then somewhat longer to gather the courage to face certain death." Considering how she reacted to Naga only a short time ago, the idea that Mother feared the Divine Dragon, particularly a weakened Divine Dragon sounded odd. Even now, I didn't consider Naga 'threatening' in the sense Mother did. "I presented the Emblem to Naga, and she challenged my sincerity. Chrom told me of the ritual of Awakening although I did not know it as such then, and in a moment of melodrama, I suggested that if I could survive Divine Fire, it would prove my honesty." A flash of amusement crossed her face. "And that unless she physically burned away my soul, nothing she could concoct would be worse than Grima. A…poor choice in hindsight, as I believe she took it as a challenge." As she spoke, Mother curled inwards, pain expression flaring up.
"Worse than anything torture Grima inflicted on you?" No wonder Mother disliked Naga so vehemently. While I bore my own grudges, none of them were founded in pain and suffering as Mother's seemed to me.
"Substantially." Mother shrugged. "Well deserved, but none the less unpleasant." No change in her magic. No emotional tumult, or anything else. She stated the simple unconditional fact. I shivered once more. "Before she sent me back Naga created my Falchion. I do not begin to fathom her reasoning, nor do I care too." Her finger curled around the hilt of the blade, a familiar gesture, although on a very different person.
"I see." While nothing about those words rang false, I also didn't know my own Mother nearly well enough to know what her tells for lying might be. "May I?" If nothing else, this could be an interesting test of the theory of how the usage of Falchion passed on. Mother drew the blade, twirled it once with casual skill, and offered me the hilt. Reaching out, I grasped the blade, and sucked in a breath as it came to life in my hand. Magic flashed up the length of my arm, filling my chest with a surprising warmth, seeming to lift a weight from my shoulders. "What in-"
"Unpleasant, isn't it?" My eyes flickered to Mother's. To my surprise, her mien was somber. "Being that we possess no small degree of Fell Power, it's a bit uncomfortable to wield." Spreading her hands, Mother's magic flared as though by instinct.
"Conflicted." I offered the correction after a few seconds of thought. "It's…internally conflicting, as though I am both accepted and rejected." Turning the blade in my hand, I frowned. "I suppose this proves Lucina's theory. Cynthia will be disappointed; she now needs to learn how to use a sword."
"How unfortunate." Mother shared my smirk for a moment, accepting her Falchion back, returning the blade to its sheath in silence. In the end, she shook her head, bemusement trickling past her control. "It's a really nice sword, all told. Light, never gets dull, and glows like a torch when Risen are about. Can't complain, considering how I got it. I'm sure it will be quite enjoyable to shove it straight into Grima's face, but until that point, I can't say I think it will serve me any better than a conventional blade, or one of my conjurations, given the unpleasant interaction with my magic."
"I find a solid blade more useful than a conjured one." I tapped the hilt of my own. "Conjurations feel flimsy, and a strong enough spell will break even your Fell Swords, unless you overpower them to the point of impracticality."
"Perhaps." Mother shrugged. "Only Falchion can break my conjurations with any degree of regularity, although perhaps experience helps in that regard." I frowned, crossing my arms. "The primary lesson to be learned about fighting with conjured blades is don't be like Grima, who can afford to expend more power to achieve the same effect as you or I might for far less energy." She flicked her left wrist, and I could feel the magic warp reality, before the same blade she used to fight in Ylisse shimmered into existence. Unlike Grima's, no extra globs of magic dripped off the end, nor did the edge of the blade waver as she twirled it. Even the weapons materialization lacked the edifice of Grima's. "For instance, I bounced one of these off your sword a few dozen times without suffer ill effect."
"I would argue that is not a sterling example of my skill with a blade, but I take your point." Examining the weapon closer, I didn't make any effort to hide my astonishment. "That is almost solid." While in theory, it would possible ton conjure a fully solid blade, I didn't know how strong one needed to be to do so. I certainly never tried, believing the skill beyond me. Perhaps I had been mistaken.
"Correct." Mother tapped it on the side, the magically construct not responding to the impact. I conjured my own blade, doing my best to restrain the spell and contain the construct. Unlike Mother's, my conjured blade wavered along the edges, but remained solid when Mother tapped it along the flat. "Not bad." I felt an inexplicable rush of pride, as Mother's considered my construct. "Considering you don't cast the spell often, that is quite impressive. Even more given your usual aversion to Grima's magic."
"Can you blame me?" No heat lingered in my tone, even though perhaps she deserved it, given the subject.
Mother shook her head. "On the contrary, I find it quite impressive that with few exceptions you avoided using Fell Magic at all. Even during my travels, and time with the Shepherds, I called on my power more times than I like to admit, in situations far less perilous than yours." Her lips quirked, a halfway measure between deprecation, and delight.
"You…" Even when I fished for words, coming up with an apparent explanation for my thoughts proved difficult. "I don't understand."
She sighed. "You are the only person who might be able to challenge my claim of being the most powerful spellcaster alive. We are both powerful enough to change the course of history beyond anyone's imagining with a few words, and a wave of our hand." We did indeed have that sort of power. Power I used more frequently than I cared to admit. "I am dancing about the point, as we both are."
"Yes." I could admit that we were avoiding the question as best we both could.
Mother turned away, her magic, coiling tighter than before. "To be honest, I didn't expect to live long enough for this conversation to happen, so I find myself at a bit of a loss as to how to handle it." I suspected she rolled her eyes. "Since you are not inclined to run me through with something pointy, that eliminates one of my original solutions to the problem, leaving the somewhat less pleasant conversation."
"You…"
"Considered it likely that one of the ways this entire situation would resolve might involve you driving three feet of steel into my chest and lighting me on fire?" She tossed her hair back over her shoulder, expression never moving from bland pseudo-indifference. "Until quite recently I considered that the most likely resolution of this, yes. Most of those who existed in my sphere of influence, prior to going back in time believed my opinions of how confrontations between you, and your compatriots and myself were inaccurate in the extreme. I am somewhat fortunate that none of them are around to inform me of exactly how inaccurate I was."
"Your cult." Lucina made a passing mention of that, as we descended the mountain, with just enough seriousness I believed her. "I do not know what I feel about that."
"About one of your parents having a cult dedicated to them?" I nodded, the rustling cloth obviously produce enough noise for her to notice, as it drew a dry chuckle from her. "Well, it was devoted to Lucina and I, in truth. But that story can wait." She waved a hand. "We are both avoiding the issue of…"
"That you are my parent, and how that is going to affect things going forwards." If one of us did not put the issue on the table, I knew we never would. In that regard, the two of us seemed to be entirely alike.
"Correct." For the first time all night, her magic didn't roil with the obvious emotional turmoil, leaving me even fewer avenues to tell what she might or might not have been thinking. "I created a mess for us, without really meaning too."
"Perhaps." The more I learned the less I felt I knew. "You owe me explanations."
"I do." That quick agreement took me aback. Even with what the others said, I expected to drag every last scrap of worthwhile information from her. The cynical reasoning that I leaned on so heavily in our future pointed out that just because she said the words, that didn't mean she took action to back them up. "I owe quite a few people explanations. You, the other members of your group, the Shepherds, whenever we run into them again, and others." Privately, I wondered just who might be those others she mentioned, but that could wait for another day. "You, more than most."
"Yes." Throughout all of it, her magic remained controlled, not so much as flaring or dimming to my other senses. "I promised all of the others the truth, insofar as I know it, and I am afraid I can offer very little beyond that to you." The truth as she knew it represented a vast swath of information, from a person who lived for centuries, and possessed incredible magical power. Then again, I knew my questions would be far more pointed than most of the others.
"Who is my father?" Despite Mother's impressive control of her magic and previous impassivity, I felt it roil and snap with her, a sudden flood of emotional turmoil washing over my Mother in a way I did not expect. Standing up to Naga, when her magic shifted with her emotions, it represented a galvanization of her strength, focusing the power at her disposal into a single point, as opposed to the wild unfocused maelstrom that stood before me. It seemed as if my question truly unsettled her, as the seconds dragged on.
"I…can only guess." Loathing, deep rooted ran through her words. "Grima tried anything, and everything that might break my will." Words caught up in my throat, unable to find a way to articulate the realization of the meaning of her words. "My own memories of that time are hazy, riddled with events I forgot, forced myself to forget so the nightmares became bearable." She turned, and I could see something gleam in the corner of her eye. "Certain moments of that time passed over the years are fixed in my mind, leaving you in Ylisse, Grima's reaction to that, but much of the rest is muddled and unclear."
I considered. No magic could sense falsehood, but I saw nothing to indicate Mother lied, or attempted to deceive me. "Alright." Again, her magic whirled, caught off guard. "You've experienced more horrors than I, and blaming you for electing to not remember those horrors would be both hypocritical, and self-defeating." Her lips turned upwards, not a smile, but an expression of recognition. Rising from the roof, I started back towards my room. While I doubted I could sleep, I needed to think. Pausing at the stairwell, I turned, considering the woman outlined by the night sky. "Thank you…Mother."
-FE:DUL-
"Robin!" Chrom burst into my office, eyes wild, chest heaving. "Robin-she's-she-!" Panic strangled his words, and the Prince staggered, as though drunken, into a chair, shaking his head back and forth. Still muttering. I allowed him a few moments, becoming progressively more concerned as time passed. "She's awake." He finished, energy abruptly spent. I knew, almost at once, something else passed at the same time. "She's…oh Gods…."
"Breathe Chrom." I didn't know what happened, and I would have expected Emmeryn waking to be a joyous occasion. "Then explain what happened." It took him several more minutes to collect himself.
"She doesn't remember." The words hit me like a bus, the potential implication of the Exalt being memoryless, were myriad and painful. "She doesn't remember anything!" Impossible. Surely impossible. "What the hell am I supposed to do?" Now emotionally spent, completely, Chrom slumped into the chair, shaking his head, in slow defeat.
"I…I don't know." While we expected some injury from Emmeryn's fall, indeed, her fall should have killed her, so any survival could be considered miraculous. I almost asked what I could do to help, before realizing that he probably wouldn't know. "Go find Lissa Chrom. Take some time. We can keep everything from going to pieces." He blinked, processing the words slower than I originally expected. Eventually, he nodded, a lackluster motion that told me everything I needed to know. "I'll go talk to her." Rising, and shifting my cloak about my shoulders, I put a hand on his shoulder as I passed. "Everything will work out." Somehow.
Leaving Chrom behind, I took a moment to find a way to handle the current situation. In truth, my statement that we could keep the situation running smoothly might have been hasty, as I could barely keep my own part of the situation above water, never mind everything else the Halidom needed handled.
"Stahl!" The first Shepherds I found on my way to Emmeryn's room turned out to be the cavalier.
"Hey Robin." He waved, frowning as he took in my expression. "What's going on?"
"Can you find Sumia and tell her Chrom's in my office?" He nodded, frown getting deeper. "And then tell the rest of the Shepherds we need to have a meeting tonight?"
"Um…sure?" Scrambling to keep pace, Stahl huffed. "What's going on?"
"I'll be able to tell you tonight." Although I was not looking, I could feel the stare. "It's nothing bad, and we aren't going to war again." Or at least I hoped not, and at the moment, trying to get Chrom to step away from things was my best effort to keep the situation from spiraling even farther out of control.
"Got it." Stahl jogged off in another direction, as I came to a stop in front of Emmeryn's door. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door, stepping into the room. Emmeryn sat in a chair by the window, blonde hair falling most of the way down her back, obscuring most of her form from my position. Otherwise, the room might as well not have been lived in.
Hearing me enter, she turned, sharp eyes taking my form in without any comment, although somewhat to late, I realized I perhaps looked rather haggard, and ink smudged, having been handling a small mountain of paperwork and logistical nightmares that I still didn't completely solve. "Hello." She smiled.
"Emmeryn." Stepping farther into the room, I sighed. "How are you feeling?" Perhaps start from a neutral position.
"Well." She frowned. "I am somewhat confused however."
I chuckled. "Understandable." Waking up in a field would hardly be comparable, but I could relate to having my memories wiped. Her eyes flared with a question. "Having had my own troubles with memories, I understand better than most how unnerving the lack of them can be." She nodded, slowly. "If you have questions, I'll try and answer them?"
Emmeryn dipped her head, frowning for a long while, obviously chewing on what I could only imagine to be a mountain of questions. "What happened to the city?" I blinked, realizing I should have expected that question.
"A considerable battle took place here not too long ago…the aftermath of which you can see." Gesturing towards the city, I tried not to sigh. "We are still working to repair the damage." Her eyes dropped. "That battle had very little to do with you, so I would not worry that something you do not remember caused that." Strictly speaking, my statement was incorrect, as Emmeryn's refusal to give Gangrel the Emblem caused the battle, although I would argue that Gangrel's insanity and warmongering instigated the conflict.
"I see." She frowned.
"I suppose I've gotten things a bit out of order. My name is Robin." Sitting on the edge of the bed, I managed a smile. "I'm sure all of this is somewhat overwhelming."
"It's alright." Memories or not, some measure of Emmeryn's core personality remained.
-FE:DUL-
"Lady Robin." The Plegian messenger knelt. Less than three days had passed since Emmeryn's waking, and Chrom was still coming to terms with her lack of memory, and everything else that happened over the preceding weeks, thus being somewhat withdrawn from everything else. When a messenger from Plegia arrived, it left the problem of who would speak with them for the rest of us to solve, namely, Phila, Frederick, and I. By the time Cordelia came knocking at my door, saying a Plegian messenger arrived at they needed me in the throne room, I rather assumed it was in the same capacity as the previous two times such a thing occurred. "I apologize for my unannounced arrival." Instead, apparently I was going to be doing exactly what I told Chrom I would; keep the entire blasted Halidom from falling apart at the seams.
"It is no trouble." While this interrupted dealing with a mountain of paperwork along with at least three smaller problems that didn't demand immediate attention, I managed to sound sincere.
"I'm glad." The man rose to his feet, stance conferring an uncomfortable level of deference. Although no one could prove them, rumors about the mysterious Grimeal who slew Gangrel persisted, and enough of the remaining Plegian royalty believed them that their messengers gave me a great deal of defense and respect, apparently preferring to avoid the risk of me not being who they believed I was. "Lady Aversa wished me to deliver this message." He produced a scroll from beneath his cloak.
"Thank you." My supposed sister stepped into my role in Plegia as they sought for a new King or Queen. To my knowledge, no worthy individual had yet stepped forth, or survived to do so. None the less, they were looking. Accepting the scroll, I placed it within one of many pockets, as it stood to reason that it merely contained some vague taunt from Aversa, or something else that I didn't need to address immediately. "I will see to having a reply for her tomorrow." He bowed, and left the room in short order.
Luckily that short little meeting took only moments as my usual visit to Emmeryn was about this time of day. While I knew others stopped to visit the Exalt, including a few of the Shepherds, according to Emmeryn they tried their best to avoid answering her questions if they could, or sometimes simply did not know. And, frankly it gave me some time to avoid dealing with work, and the general chaos.
"Robin." That, and somehow I avoided Emmeryn referring to me be a noble title, like everyone else in the Grima damned castle. "You look bothered." Of course, she retained the ability to pick up upon my distracted state, but I doubted a severe head injury would change that fact.
"Just…" Running a hand through my hair, I slumped into the room's second chair, "overthinking things, more or less." Sitting in my cloak, the scroll felt heavier than before, as my thoughts ran wild. "I knew from the outset that getting Ylisse and Plegia to cooperate would be a painful process, but it's proven even more than I expected. That blasted hellhole runs on a culture of fear so pervasive it's fortunate that I scare most of them witless or this entire affair would be doomed from the outset, and that isn't a good thing!" Abruptly spent of frustration, I shook my head. "Apologies. You don't deserve me ranting, particularly when I can't imagine a word of what I just said makes any sense to you."
"It's alright." Soft smile in place Emmeryn gestured for me to continue. "Everyone needs to get things off their chest once and a while, Robin, otherwise you would go insane." Most would consider making deals with Eldritch gods insane already, but I took her point for what it was. "I suppose it does beg the question of what your role in these affairs is. I've been told you are everything from Regent to Tactician?"
"At the moment, some of both, I think?" Shaking my head, I stifled a laugh. "Chrom is focusing his full attention on some personal matters at the moment, along with Lissa, which leaves exactly who is in charge a little hazy. Officially, no one has been named as Regent, although that is the role I am currently filling." Even those words left an uncomfortable taste in my mouth, given everything that I had done. "Once Chrom returns, I will go back to being the Tactician and leave the nobility politics and pomp to the person whose was trained to deal with it, instead of the person he found passed out in a field." Without meaning to, bitterness crept into my tone. "Which I'm sure Chrom didn't think about when this all got started, which in some way makes the entire blasted thing worse. I'm not a Regent, and I'm only barely a Tactician, so I'm not sure why I even offered to handle all this tripe." No, I knew exactly why I did. Because Chrom didn't deserve to get saddled with all the weight he would have been, and at least talking with Emmeryn I could handle. Throughout my tirade, Emmeryn remained attentive, her expression passing no judgement on everything that passed my lips. "Grima's blood. It's all such a mess…and once again, I'm burdening you with my own problems."
"And once again, it is not trouble, Robin." Emmeryn repeated herself. "You've been taking large amounts of time out of what I can tell is an already busy schedule, to answer my questions. It is the least I can do to let you vent, as I imagine I am a better person for you to vent to than anyone else." Because she didn't, at least at this moment, have a political agenda, or person to call master. Of course, she was, ostensibly the Exalt, so perhaps all of this sounded a little ridiculous.
"Perhaps."
-FE:DUL-
"Robin?" Late that night, Chrom knocked on my office door. "You have a minute to talk?"
"I've got a small mountain of paperwork, but I could do with a mental break." Setting my pen down, I stood, cracking my back in the process. Chrom winced sympathetically, waiting for me to step outside before setting in a random direction.
"I…feel insane even saying this, but when we fought Gangrel something…spoke to me. In my head." He flicked me a glance. "I'm not going insane am I?"
He is a Branded by Naga. Grima opined. Just as you are Chosen, so too will he. I licked my lips. Chrom didn't know much of magic, and I didn't know a good way to broach the subject.
"No, you're not going insane." His shoulders slumped in relief. "And I don't believe you have anything to worry about." Brows furrowing, Chrom chewed on my words for a while. "It was when Gangrel pinned you, I'm guessing?" He nodded. "Right after that, Falchion appeared in front of us, a weapon of Naga. Best guess, Naga sensed you plight, spoke to you, and called Falchion to you."
"Why only now?"
"I'd imagine because of me, actually. Being so closely connected to Grima, and the fact that I utilized a great deal of Fell Magic, I can't help but imagine I attracted some degree of Naga's attention…and she wished to ensure I didn't sink my claws into you, or something like that." Attention, albeit unwelcome, but attention none the less.
"I guess." Chrom glanced down at the Falchion. "I…never really considered the implications of this, you know? The legacy of the first Exalt. Killing Grima. Carrying Falchion. This." He gestured to the mark on his shoulder. "Gods, talking in my head, summoning swords out of thin air? This is insane."
"You get used to it after a while." Or so I liked to think. He flashed me an odd look. "Grima's not overly talkative, mostly likes to taunt and mock me. It's…unpleasant." There was enough truth in that sentence for me to not feel guilty over the lies of omission. Chrom's eyes widened at those words. "Started during the battle, going on and on about how I wasn't going to save Emmeryn, or you, or anyone else. It's worse if I use more Fell Magic, and he's gone silent since we got back from Plegia, although that is a bit of a cold comfort at the moment."
"Huh." He sighed. "That's…a mess."
"Agreed." For a while, we stood in quiet. "Something's bothering you."
He rolled his eyes, more joking than serious. "I don't know who is worse, you or Sumia. Can't hide anything from you, can I?" I couldn't help but laugh. "When…Naga…spoke with me, she warned me to be careful around you. Something about you speaking with Grima's voice, and to be careful around you?"
I licked my lips. Well, that removed any ambiguity about if I had or had not attracted Naga's attention. Answering the former question truthfully would be easy enough, but I had no ready answer for the latter question. "Grima's voice is…similar to what mine sounded like when Gangrel pined you. Gravelly, uncomfortable to listen to."
Would you prefer this? My own voice ricocheted about my head, followed by Grima's laughter. The Fell Dragon taking my appearance, already unsettled me, but taking my voice made it worse. Pity.
"As for Naga's warning, it makes sense. While I'm subtler than Gri, it is not a great secret that I command Fell powers, even without my cloak calling it out to anyone who knows to look." Chrom nodded, before sighing. Obviously this topic left both of us uncomfortable and I flailed for a moment searching for a change of topic. "How are you doing?"
"I…don't know." He stopped, shaking his head. "It's…I don't know what I'm supposed to feel right now Robin. My sister is alive, but she doesn't remember anything…it's…hard." Pausing for a while he added, "How is she doing?"
"Confused, but I think that can be expected, given the situation. Otherwise, I don't think there are any odd side effects, besides the memory loss, and she seems to be taking that well enough. You should visit, her you know." Chrom flinched. "I know it's difficult, but it might do both of you some good." I paused just for a beat. "WE also could do with having the actual Prince around, instead of this ad hoc nonsense that we've been doing. I keep waiting for some to challenge our authority, and it to create a giant mess."
"Probably." He pinched his nose. "I'll try."
-FE:DUL-
Lady of Naga: Lucina
"Alright, explain." To their credit, neither Severa or Cynthia elected to corner me right away, taking over and entire hour after Morgan and Arielle disappeared to do…something. Neither seem interested in explaining what they were up to, and I didn't care to inquire. Whatever agreement that pair came to, I didn't care to find out. However, Severa and my sister were quite content to corner me. Severa of course, asked the question first, arms crossed, expression cold. "What's the deal with the Lady of Grima suddenly being on our side?"
"And you didn't think to ask her yourself?" Crossing my arms in turn, I hid a smile at Cynthia's uncomfortable squirm, correctly having guessed the duo disagreed about that.
"Well, when she gets back I'm going to." Severa waved a hand. "But she and Morgan doing some dumb thing, and I'm not getting involved in that."
"Morgan was smiling." Cynthia picked up the thread. "Actually smiling, not one of her 'smiles'." Good. "She hasn't done that since we came back. Neither of us want to get in her way right now."
I couldn't help but shake my head. "So, instead, you choose to ask me why I agreed to travel with the Lady of Grima, because you're afraid of said woman, and our sister?" They didn't flinch, although they did trade a glance. "You fought with the Shepherds. I'm sure by now you have figured out that Arielle is the woman they know as Gri." Twin nods. "I'm also certain you were regaled with tale of how she killed her Father."
"Validar is her Father!" Cynthia exploded, expression going slack. "And she did that to him?" When I nodded, my sister's jaw dropped further. "Whoa…"
Severa, obviously realizing there was a gap in knowledge picked back up. "We got to listen to Morgan rant for almost twenty minutes about how that piece of magic was impossible, no one alive should know how to do it, and something else I don't remember." Rolling her eyes, the brunette carried on. "I assure you, it was riveting." Obviously realizing that I wasn't about to be concerned with that, Severa sighed. "Look, even you have to admit that suddenly getting all buddy-buddy with your worse enemy is weird. You never really bought into Morgan's idea that the Lady of Grima was an unwilling vessel, or what changed?"
Surprisingly astute of a question for Severa. Then again, they would have had time to think about how to word it. "Arielle and I did not get along well, at first. While we never came to blows, we did engage in a few rather impressive disagreements." Both of them nodded, Severa smirking. "With that being said, it is difficult to accuse Arielle of being a member of the Grimeal as they neither recognize her as their leader, nor has she taken any effort to advance their ends." With a shrug, I tossed out the truth of the situation almost as an afterthought. "If Arielle came back to ensure Grima's resurrection, she already could have done so. My soul would be gone, consumed by her magic, and Grima would already rule the world, the most powerful mage alive at the head of his armies." Severa paled, fingers twitching towards her sword. "As for the rest, I suggest speaking to Arielle yourselves."
Severa huffed, before nodding in acceptance. "Fine." Her eyes let me know full well that I was going to hear more about it later, but Cynthia, having gotten that out of the way, pulled me into a hug. "I'll leave you idiots to it."
Despite riding a pegasus all the time, my sister's embracing was crushing, pinning my arms to my sides and leaving very little room to move. With a brief mental effort, I called on Falchion's magic, forcing my arms free. "I do need to breath Cynthia."
"I missed you. It's weird…with just Morgan, you know? I know you're off doing Hero stuff but…"
"We were not supposed to be separated, Cynthia. Things didn't quite work according to plan, for reasons I cannot explain. Even Arielle doesn't know what happened, and I'm guessing Morgan didn't have a good idea either?" Cynthia shook her head. "Of course. Regardless, our next plan is to find the others, so that we can work towards preventing Grima ever returning."
"Gezz Lucy, lighten up." Cynthia rolled her eyes, and I couldn't help but laugh. "I know you're all hero-ey, but you could at least be excited we're all back together!"
"I am." My sister's glare didn't dissuade me from laughing. "I trust Morgan that all of you didn't get into overly much trouble, and I've heard enough of the one battle you did get involved in."
"Did Morgan mention that she wanted to leave them all to die?" Cynthia grumbled, her entire demeanor changed, frustrated and tired all at once. "We argued with her for like hours before she even agreed to think about it…and she still almost didn't." That didn't sound out of character for Morgan, really. Her skill in combat could only be surpassed by her desire to avoid it if possible. "She's…"
"She's being all…not cool. All cold and grumpy, and I don't know what to do." I understood why Severa ran, she knew better than get involved in matters between the three of us.
"Which is why her smiling earlier today unsettled you so much."
Cynthia nodded frantically. "I mean, I'm happy that she's getting along with her mom, and that her mom isn't like, evil and stuff, but…. it's still weird. Morgan's always been super serious and grumpy, you're the awesome hero, and I'm me. But…" Her gaze dropped.
"Lucina." And, speaking of the devil, Morgan came sweeping back into the inn, cloak billowing from the speed she was walking. I couldn't help but notice that she looked far more unkempt than normal. "You could have mentioned my Mother fights dirty?" Further inspection revealed the she'd been doing something strenuous.
"I do not fight dirty." Arielle, meanwhile wore a self-satisfied smirk as she stepped into the room. "I simply possess more experience, and a wider knowledge of magic." Her expression suggested she fought dirty, or at least did something underhanded.
"The downside to magical sparring is that it allows time for unconventional battle tactics, such as teleportation, which no sane person would attempt in an actual duel." Morgan rolled her eyes. "While I will concede it is effective, I doubt anyone could manage to accurately perform that spell mid-fight, rendering it a dirty trick." Her eyes darted between the two of us. "Do I want to ask?" Her expression softened, and sighed. "Cynthia, I'm perfectly fine."
"I don't know what you're talking about?" Cynthia tried to deny, turning red around the ears.
"Yes, you do." Morgan rolled her eyes. "You're worried that I'm turning into a psychopath again, or that I'm going to vanish into the abyss with her." She jerked a nod towards Arielle. Not giving Cynthia a chance to respond Morgan pressed on. "I'm not. We're…reaching an agreement."
"Which largely amounts to, I'm not evil, and she's not going to kill me." Arielle joined in, her lips twitching in half amusement. "And that she gets the first shot at killing me if anyone tries." Sobering, the woman sighed. "I'm not trying to run off with your sister, if that's what your worried about." By now, Cynthia's jaw just dropped. "For starters, your other sister would probably kill me, and, well, so would Morgan."
"Mhm." The aforementioned girl nodded. "And I lack skill in ripping the soul out, so it would be quite painful."
AN: And, with this, I will officially call Act 1 of this story complete. This last bit covered a bunch of random scenes that fill the interim time between Gangrel's death and where we will pick the story up for the Valm Arc. While I could do several chapters of events between arcs, I feel that would bog the story down a great deal, and the majority of events can be covered in flashbacks or otherwise later on in the story. Thus, I arrived at this. Originally, I planned for two chapters like this, one involving the Shepherds and the other involving the temporally displaced crew, but with this one already at 10k words, and taking far too long to edit, that idea was scrapped.
I'm going to be taking an extra week to work on getting ahead in writing the next part of the story, as this one took up way more time than I intended. Instead of another chapter of this next week, I think I'm going to publish a Nier Automata one shot that's been sitting finished in my folder for ages and ages. Whatever it is, that'll be up on later today.
Somewhat late this week, because apparently today is not Friday, and yesterday was not Thursday, and my sense of time took a serious vacation. Either way, I shall return in two weeks with another chapter of Bad Things Happen To People Who Don't Deserve It.