Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem. Fire Emblem belongs to Intelligent Systems and Nintendo.


When Ricken had stowed away in one of the wagons, he hadn't imagined how truly boring pretending to be a barrel of salted mackerel could be.

He also hadn't counted on being left behind.

And then being discovered just as they crossed the border between Ylisse and Plegia.

Chrom pinched the bridge of his nose and didn't look at him. "When did you leave Ylisse?"

The tip of Ricken's hat drooped right along with his shoulders. There really was no good answer that would keep him from getting into trouble.

"I think the more pressing question," Lissa said, pinching her nose and waving her hand to fan away the air by her face, "is when did you last bathe?"

Normally he would have argued his case, but even he couldn't deny the . . . overpowering stench of preserved fish. He figured he'd be able to stomach fish again at some point—right after he quit smelling like one.

Which was at some point approximately between good luck and never.

"Right before I hid in the wagon," he muttered. The terrible thing wasn't that he smelled like a fish market, although that was punishment enough on its own. No, it was that he had to do it in front of them.

How could he hold up his head in front of them after this?

Chrom sighed. "Which was when, again?"

Ricken pressed his mouth into a firm line. What he needed was someone who made bigger messes than he did. But they were the only ones inside the tent.

Except for Robin.

Robin, as usual, said nothing. Not that her reaction was any better. In fact, hers was a little more terrifying. She kept looking at him and flexing her fingers like she was imagining his neck between her hands.

Squeezing . . .

He cleared his throat and loosened his collar. "I've been working hard, and I've mastered some higher level Wind tomes. I can help."

Chrom raised his head. His eyes were bloodshot and there were dark smudges under his eyes. "It's not that we don't want your help . . ."

"Pretty much we just want you to take a bath," Lissa said, her fingers still clamped protectively over her nose. "The sooner the better. Maybe Miriel has a spell or something that can de-fishify you."

Ricken's shoulders sagged a little more. Miriel had already informed him that no such spell existed, although she had drafted up a few prototypes if he was interested.

Having personally witnessed those souls unfortunate enough to be her lab rats, he decided he'd rather smell than go through life bright blue or missing fingers or growing an extra head.

"I promised your mother I'd keep you safe."

"And you have." Chrom's protection was one of the reasons Ricken worked so hard. The sooner he was strong enough to protect others, the better.

Chrom offered Ricken a wan smile. "Somehow I doubt she would agree if she knew you were in Plegia."

He opened his mouth, and then shut it again.

"Point taken."

For reasons unknown, his admission seemed to set Robin off. Her fingers tangled around a flurry of words that were there and then gone again before he could understand them properly. The look of hostility she was giving him was very clear, however.

Lissa giggled. "He's not really a kid kid. He's just short for his age."

"Hey!"

"The point," Chrom interjected firmly, "is that we're here, and so are you. From this point forward, you are to obey your orders. We don't have time to turn back, but if needs be, I'm fairly certain that Frederick's saddlebags are big enough to accommodate you."

A blush burned its way across Ricken's face, but he bit his tongue and simply nodded. It didn't seem fair that the spell he'd helped develop could be used against him.

"I understand."

"Good." Chrom turned to Robin. "Are you ready?"

Her expression hardened as she nodded. Observing her, Ricken was glad he wasn't fighting for the other side.

As if she'd heard his thoughts, she directed her glower in his direction. Then, making each word separate and distinct, You. Are. To. Stick. To. Frederick's side. Like. Miriel. Spelled. You. There. Do. You. Understand?

Gulping, he nodded. His temper brindled a little. She was definitely looking down on him. But he held himself in check. He'd never fully appreciated how intimidating a person could be without even having to speak a single word.

"Yes, Sir! Ma'am—er . . ."

"Just Robin is fine," Chrom said, laughing. He gave her a mushy look as though he'd forgotten they weren't alone. The air had practically gone all pink, and there were hearts sparkling in the background.

Ricken gaped at him. In the entirety of his life, Chrom had never looked like that before. He'd always been tall, handsome, and dignified.

A hero.

Someone he'd always looked up to.

And now—

Lissa snorted and elbowed him in the side. "If you think this is bad . . . Ha! They've been giving everyone cavities pretty much since the beginning."

How was that even possible? How in the heck was the hero supposed to slay dragons or right every wrong with that sappy expression?

Where was his noble mien? His enemies were supposed to be struck with fear when his gaze fell upon them. But this . . . This . . . Well, he supposed Chrom's enemies would still be cringing—but from disgust, not fear for their lives.

And here he'd thought smelling like over-ripe fish was a tragedy.

"You'd think they'd get tired of staring at each other all the time, or at least remember the rest of us out here." Lissa made a face.

Ricken was just about to agree with her when Chrom reached out for Robin's hand. Sure enough, the look they were giving each other made more than a few of his teeth ache.

"We'll soon be off. You two report to Frederick. Hopefully we'll be able to settle this peacefully so we can head back home by evening."

"So, uh . . ." Lissa clasped her hands behind her and shifted her weight from one foot to the next. "Since you won't have time to bathe, you think you could stay down wind?"

Ricken rubbed his head. Who knew headaches could be contagious? "I'll do what I can, but that will depend on Frederick."

"Ha! Well, I think I'm gonna try my luck with Sumia for now."

Despite his less than auspicious beginning as an official Shepherd on official Shepherd business, things had progressed so smoothly that he became a little suspicious over the tales the other Shepherds had reported after returning from their rotations.

To hear them tell it, there were bandits hidden under every rock and brigands waiting at every corner.

Not to mention the Risen that sprang up like undead weeds, infesting the entire halidom.

They'd never mentioned how boring marching was. As the eldest son of a noble house, Ricken wasn't a stranger to the saddle. He'd just never ridden one for most of the day before.

On top of smelling like a fishmonger, he wasn't sure he'd be able to walk—or sit—naturally again in the foreseeable future. He was already a casualty to a war they hadn't even fought yet.

With those happy thoughts to keep him company, he tugged at Frederick's surcoat. "Frederick, are we almost—"

"We are five minutes closer than we were previously." Frederick sighed. "There is still a large section of desert yet to cross."

"Oh."

Miriel had studied deserts a while ago. From her descriptions and the samples she brought back, Ricken had been intrigued. Apparently life flourished in deserts in many varied ways, but whichever desert Miriel had explored, this was not it.

All was yellow sand stretching out endlessly before them. Here and there they passed by strange rocky formations or small bumps of desert attempting to be sand dunes.

But that's all there was—sand!

Everywhere. Just sand and more sand.

Sand. Sand. Sand.

He tugged on Frederick's surcoat once more. "You don't think we've gotten lost, do you? It's hard to keep track of—"

"Milord," Frederick raised his voice, "I am respectfully requesting a small break of no more than ten minutes."

Chrom glanced back at them, his eyes still gooey even though Robin was marching at the back of the column.

"Tired already?"

Frederick didn't say anything, but Ricken had the distinct impression that he was glowering.

Chrom's eyes widened and his gaze sharpened. With a grin, he nodded and called for a brief halt before he went to find Robin.

Even though they'd already seen each other not all that long ago. Seriously, had they already forgotten what each other looked like?

"Frederick, do you think—oof!"

Ricken stared down at the spyglass Frederick had shoved into his hands.

"While you wait, it would be good practice for you to learn the lay of the land."

"A-all right, but what are you—" he trailed off when he realized he was talking to himself. Huh. Frederick must have needed to stretch his legs more than he'd let on.

Since he had nothing else to do, Ricken put the glass to his eye. To his not-surprise, they were surrounded by sand on every side. With more sand to look forward to.

Wait.

He leaned forward in the saddle as he tried to make sense of what looked like a miniature sandstorm. The dust in the air obscured whatever was causing the disturbance. But no matter how he squinted, he couldn't make anything out.

If only he could—ha! He'd spent the last while holed up in the Royal Academy's spell room learning and modifying Wind tomes.

And what moved sand better than wind?

Ricken grinned as he pulled out a battered Wind tome. He hadn't completed the report on his findings yet, but his methods were sound. There was also something exciting about calling the Wind out in the regular world rather than in the little pocket dimensions the academy had created to limit the damage any one single spell could produce.

Drawing in a deep breath, he centered himself. When he was absolutely certain the magic would flow as he willed it, he opened his eyes and spoke the incantation.

A sound like the boom of thunder vibrated painfully against his eardrum. Too late, he clapped his hands over his ears.

But then, just as suddenly as the powerful gust of wind arrived, it vanished in the next second, flattening everything in its way as it tore across the desert toward the disturbance.

It was then that Ricken was reminded forcefully that he wasn't standing on solid ground. With a cry shattered what was left of his hearing, Quicksilver reared up on her hind legs.

He tumbled out of the saddle and landed on the ground in an untidy heap.

"Ricken." Chrom was suddenly beside him, a worried expression on his face.

Ah. It was nice to see the good old Chrom resurface. This was the Chrom that could slay dragons.

"Are you all right? What happened?"

"I saw something suspicious over there," he said, pointing. Hopefully the ringing in his ears was only temporary.

"Explain."

Ricken handed him the spyglass. Before Chrom could look through it, Robin snatched it and held it up to her eye.

"Anything to worry about, Robin?" Although Chrom still managed to look like a hero, something in his expression softened as he looked at her.

Robin glanced at him with a frown. She brought the spyglass up to her eye, before turning back around in frustration. She gently shook the glass, her frown deepening as it jangled in a way spyglasses were not meant to jangle.

"Oh. Sorry. It must have—"

"Milord!" Frederick's tortured cry announced his arrival.

They all turned toward the great knight who was staring at Robin with an aggrieved kind of horror.

Her eyes followed his, and she startled. Her movements jarred the spyglass enough that the tinkling sound of bits of glass could be heard as it gave up the ghost.

Robin and Ricken tried to explain, but Frederick didn't appear to hear them as he gently took possession of his spyglass. Quicksilver stood beside her master and snorted her disapproval.

The color went out of Robin's face completely, and she stood as if rooted to the spot. Chrom quickly pulled her into his arms, murmuring something only the two of them could hear.

"I, um, sorry."

Why did Frederick look as though he'd just lost a cherished treasure? The spyglass was a standard Ylissean glass that Miriel and he were working on improving. Ricken thought of all the spy glasses they'd gone through—and all those they had yet to go through—

They weren't that expensive . . . Were they?

"I'll pay for a replacement," Ricken said, squaring his shoulders. "It was my fault—"

"No need." Frederick wrapped his spyglass in a light blue handkerchief and tucked it into his saddlebag. "We should be on our way, Milord."

"Right." Chrom nodded, his expression fierce—at least the non-gooey parts, which were admittedly a minority. He turned to Robin. "All right, now?"

She nodded, the steel in her expression making up for Chrom's mushiness.

Let's bring your sister home.


The landscape of Plegia couldn't have been more different from Ylisse.

Instead of green forests and fields, there was little more here than sand and desolation.

Robin frowned down at her right hand. Ever since they'd crossed the border, the brand on her hand felt like she'd slathered it with poison ivy. And then covered it with fire ants. The discomfort hadn't come gradually either, as it usually did.

No, the instant her foot touched sand, the brand had gone off. She didn't dare to see if it was glowing, because she had no idea what she'd do if it was.

Ignorance, as they say, was bliss.

Yet her heart beat against a feeling of doom with every step she took until all but the faintest wisp of her hope had gone.

It wasn't hope that propelled her now, but faith in her people and in her ability to have at least two plans in place for every circumstance they might encounter.

She also had a thick bundle of contingency plans for just in case.

For a time, she'd managed to forget the dread. Especially when Ricken had blasted a hole through the desert.

But now . . .

Now . . .

"Robin."

She looked up at Chrom who was sprinting toward her. Before she could school her expression, he was already pulling her toward the front of the column.

"Sumia scouted ahead, and it turns out that the disturbance Ricken saw was a little girl."

Robin raised a brow at him. What kind of little girl could kick up that much sand?

His expression hardened. "She's being chased by two different parties. One is a mercenary. The other appears to be made up of Grimleal."

She froze. When she hadn't been plotting out their next course of action, she'd been reading up a bit on the country they were technically invading.

The Grimleal hadn't been mentioned much, but from what she'd been able to deduce, they were priests that worshipped a long dead dragon. The text had also hinted between the lines that Plegia was as it was now due to that selfsame dragon.

Once it had been beautiful and filled with life.

But now . . .

How far away is she?

"A couple of leagues."

She nodded, a plan already forming.

The difficult part wasn't getting to the little girl and rescuing her, it was all this blasted sand. The horses had the worst of it, and even though they loathed each other equally, she still felt a little bad for them as they floundered.

The infantry fared about the same. Even Panne was having difficulties.

Everyone was—except for Miriel.

Robin narrowed her eyes as she studied the mage who was cross-referencing something as she glided on, most likely unaware of the struggles the rest of them were having. Her robes gently wafting with the wind.

Wind!

She grabbed Miriel's arm without ceremony. How are you doing that? And can you teach me the spell you're using?

It took a moment for Miriel's gaze to focus. "Yes, it's something Ricken has been working on. He's managed to simplify the spell, yet amplifying the effects while redirecting the power behind the magic into a productive loop."

So any mage can work the spell?

Miriel nodded. "Let me show you."

It only took a few tries before Robin was able to keep a consistent buffer of Wind between her and the sand. She took a few experimental steps. It felt a lot like the night she and Chrom had danced upon the lake.

She grinned. I think I've got it now.

Though it was only mid-morning, the Shepherds all displayed signs of exhaustion from trudging through an endless waste of sand while the sun beat down on them from above.

Even Chrom who had the energy of a kennel full of puppies was looking worn along the edges.

The Feroxi were used to much cooler temperatures and were faring the worst.

Lissa, you're with Sumia. The rest of us need to form a tight formation.

Keeping the spell powered up wasn't going to be a problem. It was having to concentrate over such a wide expanse that was going to prove to be the most difficult.

Once everyone was close enough—and she'd given them a moment to get used to the feeling—they sped toward the place they'd spotted the little girl.

"Help! Help! Murder! Fire! Heeeeeelp!"

For a girl as small and dainty as she was, she was unexpectedly loud.

"Stop to the running, little one," the man Robin assumed to be the mercenary shouted, a hand over his ear. "No need to be screaming so loudly. Come with Gregor if you want to live."

"Ahhhhhhhh!"

Robin narrowed her eyes.Sumia, Frederick, and Chrom, neutralize the mercenary. Everyone else, we've got some Grimleal to stop.

She gritted her teeth against the agony that was her hand and did her best to shove it out of mind while she focused on keeping them all alive.

It was a small matter to gather all the mages together. There were a surprising number among the Feroxi, which lifted Robin's spirits a little.

The Grimleal were strong mages. The book wasn't explicit about what type of magic they excelled in. Rather, it hinted that wherever their spells struck, devastation was sure to follow. As much as she would have liked to chalk that one up to poetic license, it would be suicide to underestimate a group of mages as large as the one they were about to engage.

Robin directed all the mages to the front of their formation while she had those who were particularly vulnerable to magic in the back.

She had only just gotten everyone in position when the air changed. The heat from the desert burned all around them with renewed vigor, while the scent of rot and decay blew over them on a hot wind.

Robin turned slowly, watching as hooded figures advanced toward them. Her hand felt as though she was holding it in the heart of an inferno, and it was all she could do not to cry out.

She bit her lip until she could taste the metallic tang of her blood.

But that only made the pain in her hand worse.

Her pupils dilated, and she could almost hear a soft chant whispering against her bones.

These were the Grimleal.

They were not to be trifled with.

Their power was beyond her imagining.

The people who had put their trust in her to preserve their lives didn't stand a chance. That thought bound itself to her with an iron-like certainty.

Tearing her eyes away from the evil that drew near, she gestured to Sully.

"What in the seven he—"

New plan. Robin fought the urge to turn around and witness their doom slowly approaching. Inform the Khans that you are all to go help Chrom with the mercenary situation. I'll deal with the rest.

Sully made a face. "You wake up with your head screwed on wrong? The odds are twenty to one. No way the Captain would approve."

Robin pressed her lips together. They were running out of time. She wasn't sure how long she'd be able to stall the Grimleal, and she wanted to give them the best chance of escaping deeper into Plegia.

The irony of the situation tasted more bitter than her blood.

The Captain won't be able to disprove of anything if he's dead. Our first duty must be to the royal family.

"Yeah?" Sully raised a brow. "That would mean not letting you do anything stupid, since you'll be part of the royal family yourself."

If Robin could have screamed, she would have.

Virion!

"You beckoned, my lady?" The archer was never far from Sully, and despite being prone to random bits of poetry, he would serve best as her replacement if . . .

She shook her head.

I need you to take over for me for a bit.

The look he gave her seemed to peel away any artifice she might have employed.

"Are you planning on going somewhere?"

Are you questioning my authority?

He laughed. "I wouldn't dare."

She narrowed her eyes. His words said one thing, his expression, tone, and stance said something else.

I need you to bring everyone to Chrom's aid. His and Lissa's safety is paramount.

"Oh? And what will you be doing?"

"Something stupid," Sully growled under her breath. She returned Robin's glare a hundred fold.

Seeing to the other threat. She kept her fingers steady. It was only a small step from Grimleal to Grima, after all. While she didn't know all the details of their connection, she knew deep in her bones that it was there. I'm uniquely suited for dealing with the present challenge.

"And you wish me to explain our abandoning you to the prince, how exactly?"

Any way you like. Just take them. Please.

He stared at her for a long moment, before nodding. "Very well. Remember that you hold my life in your hands. Come back as soon as you may."

"Your napkin tied too tight around your neck?" Sully demanded. "On what world do you think—"

"It is simple," Virion said with a beatific smile. "She holds both the prince's heart and my life in her hands. She wouldn't dare not to return."

"But—"

"Trust is a thing that is useless if it is only kept or stored away and never used. We trust her with our lives, why not trust her with her own?"

Sully's glower deepened. "There's reckless, and then there's just plain old stupid. Robin definitely falls into the—"

"Come. Come. The sooner we deal with this, the sooner the lovely Exalt will sit upon her throne once more." Using a lifetime's worth of charm, persuasion, and brute force, Virion led Sully away.

Robin gave him a look of gratitude before she clenched her hands into fists and turned to face the immediate threat.

It was surreal. The Grimleal stood in loose formation, no longer advancing. Though they remained still, there was an air of waiting about them.

And beneath that, bloodlust.

She could not let them advance any further.

Her heart thumped oddly in her chest as she strode forward. Pressure filled her head until she thought it might burst from it. The stench of rot and decay deepened the closer she got to them.

But that was nothing compared to the fire in her hand.

Robin glanced down at it, dismayed when she realized her glove had nearly disintegrated away to nothing. The violet fire on the back of her hand was a burning beacon to everyone.

The Grimleal straightened as she reached them, tomes at the ready. Robin braced herself as she readied her own tome. Her blood thundered in her ears as a bright ball of energy formed in her waiting palm.

As she raised her hand, the Grimleal cried out.

Then, to her utter astonishment, they dropped their tomes and threw themselves prostrate before her.

Was this some kind of trap to lull her into lowering her guard?

Their voices were high and reedy as they called out to her, "Master, you have returned!"

Robin's mouth dropped open. She snapped it closed and hopped gingerly on one foot to ease the sting of the spell she'd dropped on it.

She backed up hurriedly as they crawled toward her, praises falling from their lips like grains of sand. While the unrelenting sun might have fried their brains, there was something about their manner that told her they might be lunatics, but they were still dangerous lunatics.

"Please, master."

"We have devoted our lives to you."

"Bind us to your will."

"Let us slake your thirst and grant you all our power."

"You have returned to us at long last."

"We are ready to serve you."

Robin's mind went blank as she stared at them, unable to move. Sensing her distraction, they rushed toward her in a wave of purple so dark it might have been black.

She recoiled when the first one reached her, but her movements were too sluggish. He grasped her hand, only to sigh in ecstasy as he placed it on his head.

The next moment, he disintegrated like her glove. Turned to ash and blew away with the wind. The look of unrestrained joy on his face would be an image she would never be able to forget.

Robin tried to run for it then, but they had her surrounded on all sides. She screamed silently as they jostled for position, each one of them reaching out to touch her.

Faces enraptured, as though they were greeting their salvation rather than their death.

She tried to shove them away, but every one she touched with her right hand shared the same fate as the first Grimleal she'd killed.

But that wasn't the worst of it.

They were thanking her even as they died.

Horror crushed her lungs. Made it impossible to breathe. A brilliant pain tore at her center, but even that didn't block out their voices.

Their insanity.

[Don't resist,] a voice whispered into the back of her mind. [Are they not easing your pain? And do you not feel how their power has joined with your own?]

Acid swirled in her gut. Worked its way up her throat.

These people . . .

They had all . . .

She had . . .

A sudden boom shook the ground, knocking her off her feet. She lay there stunned for a moment. The wind knocked out of her.

All she could see was the sun scorching the sky, and it took her a moment to realize everything had gone silent.

As though the world had stopped, and she was the only one left in it.

Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes as her chest heaved with her sobs. She couldn't forget the feeling of her flesh upon theirs. How the brand on her hand had sucked the power, the very life, out of everyone who had touched it.

A soft sound gradually filtered through her senses. A dry and brittle sound that had her scrambling to her feet. At first, she'd thought it was more of them.

Calling to her.

Entreating her.

Falling into ash and wind.

"Whoa! Easy there, Bubbles." Gaius held out his hands as though she were a skittish animal. He reached toward her. "I'm one of the good guys, remember?"

DON'T TOUCH ME! she screamed, forgetting that her voice was bound in this realm. Her throat stung with the fury of her words as she tucked her hand against her side.

She couldn't risk—

Couldn't let anyone else—

She had to—

Gaius stopped. She shuddered as he stared at her, expecting to find fear and revulsion. But how could he revile her any more than she reviled herself?

And yet . . . His expression, while guarded, looked as it always did. Then it relaxed into a smile. "So, turns out the little girl is really a dragon. Scared the heck out of us the first time she transformed."

Robin blinked at him, trying to comprehend his words. Why was he acting as though everything were normal? Hadn't he seen . . . ?

He laughed. "Also turns out that the mercenary was trying to rescue her. Once we cleared up that little misunderstanding, Blue invited them to join us. I'm pretty sure Sir Smiles A Lot had a heart attack. We should probably keep an eye on her though, because Specs hasn't ever been able to study a real, live manakete before. She looked a little too interested, if you catch my drift."

Robin shuddered. Words crowded on the back of her tongue, but she couldn't speak. Not if it meant letting go of her traitorous hand.

Gaius made a show of looking around. "Seems the other guys high-tailed it out of here. Speaking of which, we should probably head back now or Blue's going to come for you himself."

Before she could finish parsing his meaning, Gaius ruffled her hair like she was six-years-old instead of . . . however old she was.

Robin cringed away as another hole ripped itself into her chest.

"I'm not kidding," Gaius went on as though they were discussing the weather. "The Archest of Archers himself already owes me a mountain of sweets and baked goods, but he can only hold Blue off for so long."

Chrom.

How could she face . . .

What could she do . . .

As fast as her thoughts formed, they fell apart. Castles of sand ravanged by a chaotic wind.

She jerked her arm away when he caught it, but Gaius didn't let go. "Bubbles, you wouldn't be cruel enough to deprive a man of a mountain of sugar, would you?"

Robin pressed her lips into a thin line. Gaius had touched her. She hadn't done—He hadn't died.

She risked a glance at her hand, only to find the brand quietly behaving itself.

It no longer glowed.

Did that mean everyone would be safe?

Not willing to take the risk, she gestured with her left hand to the band Gaius had tied around his head.

It took him a minute to get her meaning. "All right. If that's what it takes to get you moving." He reached up and untied it. "So long as you make it clear to Blue that this isn't a favor or anything, and I only gave it to you because you outrank me."

The deep chill in her bones made it difficult to maneuver the band, but her joints loosened up once she realized that her brand wasn't hurting it. With quick movements, she tied it around her hand, expecting with every other heart beat for her world to be destroyed, and for her to become the destroyer.

"Breathe, Bubbles. Nice and easy. If you die on me now, not only will a perfectly good mountain of candy be lost to me, but I'm pretty sure Blue would have some strong words. Besides, I'm too handsome to die right now."

Despite the tempest raging within, the corner of Robin's lips curved upward. Now that her brand was hidden away, the risk of impending destruction was small enough that she felt it safe to speak.

Are you taking lessons from Virion?

Gaius snorted as he led her toward the others. "Can't turn a pheasant into a peacock. Besides, it's my job to blend in. It'd be my life if I were to announce to the world that I am here and I am pretty."

Robin's laugh exploded from her lips, surprising her. She never thought she'd be able to laugh again. Not when . . .

"That's the spirit." He nodded approvingly. "The happier you look, the happier Blue will be. The happier he is, the more sweets I can negotiate on top of my mountain."

Robin drew in a few deep breaths. Gaius had been there when . . . She shook the thought away. He hadn't scorned her. Hadn't feared her. She could smile for him.

And she could smile for—

"Robin," Chrom breathed.

She froze as he approached her. How could she dare . . .

"Yeah, so like I was saying, you should probably get the report from the horse's—er—Ruffles's mouth," Gaius raised his voice. Then he patted her on her shoulder before shooing her off toward where the others had gathered.

Chrom's smile nearly broke her heart. But before she could fall apart, Gaius clapped him on the shoulder.

"So, Blue, there's something I've been meaning to ask you."

Robin gave him an apologetic look and a smile as she passed him. To her relief, he let her go.

Crisis averted.

But for how long?

As Robin's heart began to crack, she forced herself to keep her composure. There was an Exalt who was still in need of rescuing.

Which meant they all still needed her.

Once they'd rescued Emmeryn and dealt with the Mad King, then, and only then, would she be free to deal with the monster she'd become.


He watched from the shadows.

Quite literally.

The priest's intentions toward his beloved were born of ill-intent. He would use her and destroy her. He would die before she would, but his death could never make up for the life he had taken.

But the dragon had found him to be a useful tool—then and now.

And what the dragon wanted, the dragon got.

For the most part.

His lips curved into a smile as he pictured his beloved sleeping among the thorns. She might have been named for a bird, but to him, she had always been the most beautiful of flowers.

She had lacked only the thorns—and that had been her undoing.

The priest had slowly amassed enough darkness to give his skeleton form. And in the process, he had learned how to manipulate the low-level, non-thinking shadows. His progress was slow, but it was enough to build an army.

The fact that the priest enjoyed torturing the shadows to shape them into his own design only made him hate the man all the more.

Only after the priest had gathered his forces, did he step out of the web of night.

"Ah, you have come." The priest's eyes glowed a lurid yellow. They were very nearly a match for the reptilian eyes of their master. "What news do you bring?"

It was almost funny the way the priest took him for a lackey. A mere servant sent to run messages and errands.

If that could have saved her, he would have been the most lackity of servants ever born.

His lips twitched at the corners, but he stared down the man impassively. Were he his beloved—in all her many shades and colors—he would have spoken.

For she was ever his concern.

But this time around he would protect her as he had been unable to before. After all, people died in wars all the time.

That was sort of the point.

The dragon would be annoyed, but it wouldn't lash out at his beloved. It had any number of willing slaves, so what was the loss of a petty little priest? They were all worms in the end.

"Did you not hear me, boy?" the priest demanded. "What word have you brought?"

He smiled then, satisfied as the priest took an involuntary step back. The priest knew power, but he had yet to fathom the power of a god.

And now he never would.

"Well?"

His smile deepened as he retrieved a scrap of parchment. He had taken the time to scrawl a single order upon it.

Wait for my signal.

The priest frowned. "What does that mean? We are ready now!"

His smile chilled until the priest took another step back. The pawn would do well to recognize the knight.

He gave the priest a look that pinned him in place and assured him of the terrible consequences to come should he disobey his order. Then he faded back into the night.

It would not be long now. He could feel it in his bones. The event that would set all else into motion was nearly upon them.

He looked forward to seeing his beloved once more. No taint of dragon. Just herself as she was.

If he were lucky, perhaps he could persuade her to stay.

The pawn would always kneel before his queen.

And this was a place that not even the dragon could reach.


A/N: *confetti* A normal sized chapter! On time! *more confetti*

It's always interesting to me where the chapter ends up heading once it's written. I generally know the broad strokes of what's going to happen-very broad-but I usually have no idea how it's going to get there.

Until it does.

Ricken was a lot more . . . opinionated than I'd originally thought. :p And while he's growing older (I want to say he's around Lissa's age?), he's mentally at the stage where girls having cooties is a fact of life. :p My original plan for him this chapter was to reveal the reason behind his family's fall from grace, but then Robin decided to be all heroic and split away from everyone else. So we weren't there to discover the secret. No worries though. It'll come out sooner or later.

And Robin.

*sigh*

There are times when I feel like a very, no good, very bad, evil author. I didn't know that was going to happen until it did. It fits in perfectly with some things we're going to learn about her during her arc, but yeah. Next chapter. T-T

Let's just say that it all goes downhill from here.

For a while.

Something I've noticed about R!Chrom is that the further into the story we go, the more like his old self he is becoming. I blame Robin for this. :p Also, I had no idea how romantic he could be. Well, romantic for the value of making a bed of thorns for the love of your life to sleep on for the rest of eternity. But it's the thought that counts, right? :p

Anyhow, the next chapter is definitely the one we've been anticipating for a long while. Crossing my fingers that I'll be able to do it justice. :S

As always, thank you for choosing to spend your time right here, reading this story. It wouldn't be half of what it is-truly, this monster's over 300,000 words long already-without you. Thank you for sharing, commenting, and just being there and allowing these characters to come to life.

Have a great week! :D