"Milord, I have a message for you," Frederick says. "Khan Flavia reports that the Plegian army is in disarray, just as we've heard. Outside of a few faithful who serve him directly, his army has all but collapsed. And on that note…"
A familiar face walks into the Shepherds' meeting.
"Aversa?" Anri blurts out. "What are you doing here?"
"Hello, Anri," Aversa greets. "Returning a favor, I suppose. But at the same time, asking for another one."
"She claims she wants to lend us her aid," Frederick says. "Milord… I'm sure I don't need to remind you that this is Gangrel's second-in-command."
"FORMER second-in-command," Aversa corrects.
"I'll hear what she has to say," Chrom says.
"How gracious," Aversa says drily. Shaking her head, she continues. "I don't have time to explain to you how deep corruption runs in Plegia, or how deeply we have all been deceived. I can only tell you the truth that I have seen: I was a puppet on a string. King Gangrel, too, is caught up in a web of lies. Some threads he has spun on his own, and some he has been tricked into wrapping himself into. I want to help you free my countrymen from the prison that Plegia has become. All I ask is that you allow me to talk to Gangrel before you kill him."
"You think you can reason with him?" Chrom scoffs. "If he were willing to listen at ANY time in his LIFE, my sister would never have died!"
"Chrom, wait," Robin says. "What's the harm, really? If he doesn't listen, we kill him just as we planned."
"I am not doing this to save him," Aversa says. "Nor am I trying to save myself, for that matter. Puppets or no, we have wrought terrible atrocities. Nothing will unwork that evil. I simply want to offer him the truth before he throws everything away on a pack of lies."
"Well…" Chrom looks at Robin. The two exchange looks in a conversation that no one else but Anri can follow. Chrom's look says "Are we really going to put up with this?" Robin's glance says "I think we should, but I'M not the leader." Chrom's frown says "You're always right and I damn well know it," and then…
"Alright, Aversa," Chrom says. "I've seen you fight. You'll be a welcome ally. And maybe, MAYBE, seeing his own second-in-command turn against him will knock whatever sense that man ever had back into him."
But whatever half-hearted hopes anyone may have had are quickly dashed. Gangrel awaits them on the battlefield, surrounded only by the few people who still see something in him worth dying for, and all he does is cackle like he rules the world.
"Good day, my little princeling!" he mocks. "Still dreaming of your squashed sister?"
His words are clearly meant to make Chrom do something stupid. Hell, Anri would love to do something stupid himself right now.
But clenched fists aside, Chrom remains calm.
"No more talk, Gangrel," he says. "Today peace returns to Ylisse and Plegia. Over your dead body, if that's what it takes."
"Pah! Such hypocrisy!" Gangrel spits. "You despise me, wretch! You want to cut me down! You don't know the first thing about peace. No man does!"
"I know more than you ever will," Chrom says.
More than me? More than ME?!" Gangrel laughs. "You ARE me! When life asks you a question, you answer with blood!"
"Maybe you're right… I will never be my sister. I cannot forgive men like you—men who sow nothing but evil. All I have left are her words, and her memory," Chrom says. "Were I alone, I might be driven to madness… Or worse. But I'm not alone. My friends and brothers-in-arms stand behind me."
"Are you done? May I vomit now?" Gangrel cackles again. "What a flowery harangue! Men are beasts! Nothing more! We fight! We kill! We devour our prey! Beasts do not stand behind beasts, little prince… They use each other only so long as it suits their own selfish purpose!"
"Gangrel, stop," Aversa says, stepping forward. "These beliefs are not your own. Don't you see how you're parroting the teachings of the Grimleal? The very group that has led our country to ruin?"
"YOU? And here I thought you must have died… But I see you're just as craven as the rest!" Gangrel says. "Just what gibberish are you spluttering now? Speaking out against the Grimleal? You, their little darling? You know I've never given a damn about what your masters think."
"I know you don't care anything for the faith," Aversa says. "But somewhere amidst all your lip service, you've become addicted to their ideals! You serve them as much as I ever did… but I have woken up from the nightmare! Will you not step down from your false pedestal and join me in revealing the truth? Or would you like to die a martyr for a cause that isn't yours?"
"Bah! Stop chattering! The Grimleal have nothing to do with me, and they can't do a thing about me!" Gangrel insists. "I've done more for this country than anyone else in history! No longer will we be sorry curs, but hounds of war!"
"Gangrel... " Aversa shakes her head. "You damn fool."
"Enough," Chrom says, raising his hand. "I've given you your last chance, Gangrel, as my sister would have done. But words can accomplish nothing more here. You are a poison. A festering wound. And I will do what my sister could not."
"Such a clever tongue you have, little prince," Gangrel sneers. "It will look quite fetching hanging on my mantle, next to your sister's corpse!"
'Witness now the ultimate consequences of my beliefs,' Grima thinks. 'He only pollutes the world further.'
'They aren't your beliefs anymore,' Anri thinks. 'If even gods can change their ways, I'm beyond mercy for a man who's had a thousand opportunities to choose peace.'
This battle is a far cry from any that Anri fought in his world. His war was for revenge, and he won. This war is for peace, and it will be a victory for all.
'I had thought I came to this world and made it worse,' Anri thinks. 'When actually, it has made ME better. What I was doing… It would have come back to bite me eventually. We could have had peace years sooner, but I was angry. I started to lose sight of what I was fighting for to begin with. I was a part of the very cycle I've always wanted to break… But I am no longer that man. I will never shake off the weight of my failures from my shoulders. But all I can do, what I WILL do, is come back to my people a better leader. I will not stop until I build a peaceful world for us all.'
'Spoken like a hero of legend,' Grima thinks, amused. 'You know, If the truth about the two of us were known, your praises would be sung higher even than those of the real Anri.'
'That's awful to think about,' Anri thinks. 'I certainly have not done anything heroic.'
'So claimed all the heroes,' Grima thinks. 'Anri, surely. And the first exalt, the hero king… Shall I go on?'
'We are in the middle of a battlefield!' Anri protests, though he can not pretend the sound of Grima's laughter ringing in his mind does not fill him with warmth.
Soon, the Shepherds have cleared out the Plegian soldiers. Only the Mad King remains.
"This is it," Chrom says. "Now I will end this once and for all."
"I'm coming with you," Robin insists. "I don't trust him not to have some trick still hidden up his sleeve."
"Alright…" Chrom says, his gaze softening. "Who am I to fight without the sword at my side?"
Anri wants to protest. Things may be going better this time around, but that doesn't mean the two of them should be taking risks. He ought to go up there, fight in their stead like he did in Ferox…
But he can't. Physically, mentally, he can't. He is exhausted, despite the relatively small share of the fighting he did. He's more than a little winded, to the point where he fears his legs could fall out from under him like they did the day he lost Emmeryn for the second time. There's a headache pounding at his brain, and he knows he NEEDS to rest. He will ask for Robin's help soon, and maybe then this will stop happening to him, but until that time…
'It is their fight, anyway,' Grima thinks 'They have to be the ones to win it.'
So they go. Chrom and Robin, the perfect partners.
Anri's heart aches as he watches them.
He is too far away to hear Gangrel's taunts, but he knows the man must be saying anything he can think of to enrage Chrom. A cheap tactic, and his favored one, but Anri knows all too well that it is effective.
But Chrom and Robin are fully prepared. Steel and lightning strike one after another so quickly that Gangrel cannot possibly counter them both. The two of them no doubt spent weeks planning this together. Chrom's resolve is steeled in this fight; he doesn't make the same mistakes that Anri did in his own ill-fated struggle against the Mad King. Robin doesn't have to cover for his mistakes, doesn't have to make any sacrifices this time. The King of Plegia goes down, and he stays down.
The war is won.
The Shepherds turn to each other, excited and exhausted in one. But Anri continues to watch Robin with his other self. He watches as Robin presses himself to Chrom's chest, as he wraps his arms around Chrom's neck, as Chrom murmurs something into his ear, and as their lips meet more than briefly.
Anri's heart continues to ache, but he's happy for them, really. He feels light.
… The wrong kind of light. Lightheaded?
'What? No, you're…' Grima is scared. 'You're fine! Stop that…'
Anri feels like something is crawling up his throat. He coughs, but the feeling doesn't stop. He coughs again. He retches.
"Anri?" Lissa cries out. "Are you okay?"
He's not sure what to say. He hasn't felt this way before. He doesn't know what the hell could be wrong with him.
'Oh yes you do,' Grima thinks. 'Damn it.. It's my fault… After everything…'
That can't be right. His legs give way, but it's fine. He can get back up. He tries, anyway.
"Oh gods, I don't know what this is!" Lissa says. "Um… M-Maribelle, Libra, can you come here for a minute?"
'No… You're not fine. This has gone on too long,' Grima thinks. 'I will protect you whether you like it or not… Even if I have to…'
"Is he coughing up blood?" someone says, but it's distant. Anri screw his eyes shut. "It doesn't LOOK like blood, though."
''Stay with me, Grima,' Anri thinks. 'I'll be okay. We'll get you your body and I'll be okay. Just... Don't do anything stupid while I'm passed out.'
"It kind of resembles dark magic, but I've never seen anything like it. Do you think he was hit by a curse?"
'And what if you don't wake up?' Grima thinks. 'No… I won't risk your life now… Hate me if you will, but…'
Anri gasps. It's like gravity has suddenly ceased to exist. He thinks he's still on the ground, but he might as well be floating. And he doesn't like it.
'Grima, you're still there, right…?' he thinks. But he gets no response.
Panic sets in. This can't be how things end! He has to bring Grima home with him!
"Come back!" he shouts. "I'm fine! Please come back!"
"Anri, it's okay! We're all right here!"
How is he supposed to tell them what's going on? The pressure gone from his body seems to be building up in his head. This isn't something he can fight off.
"Don't leave me…" he begs. "Not you, too…"
Does everyone he cares about have to die for him? Is he really that cursed?
He can't take it anymore. There's no point in struggling against himself when it won't make Grima come back.
He falls unconscious.