Author's note: This is a double chapter post so I don't have much to say, since I got most of it out in the last chapter. Just, for those of you who have been here since the last update...thanks for sticking with me. I think I've said it before, but I'll say it again. I was 15 when I started this fic, several months before it was actually posted. My original author's notes in the draft are me complaining about trying to write with finals and track meets! Here I am, about to turn 20, and it's still going. When I first posted, I thought 20 follows and 10 favorites was where it would probably max out. Maybe a review or two. 50 favorites or follows might have crossed my mind, but I certainly didn't believe I would ever get there. I don't think I even considered 100 in any category. And now, here we are. 4 years. So many people. So many changes. So thank you, so, so much. The feedback and good reception I got here was what motivated me to start writing (and definitely posting!) more fics. By the way, this chapter is absolutely named after the FFVII battle theme because that song rocks and that game is tired with Awakening for games I've beat the most in my life (7 times). Now then. I've been promising a battle for ages. I can't keep delaying it, can I? So without further ado, enjoy.
Without fail, every single person Azura, Grima, and Corrin passed paused for at least half a second when the trio entered their vision, some asking Nadia what was going on, some simply stopping before resuming their battle preparations.
When asked, Nadia's response was always the same. The trio were outsiders that Lady Ilna said were going to help them. They said they'd come to fight Anankos, so that's what they were going to do.
No one objected after hearing Ilna's name, though some did maintain their looks of suspicion. Not outright hostility, but hostility nonetheless. Grima paid it no mind. Azura and Corrin could deal with human emotions and the associated matters.
Nadia came to a sudden stop after a few minutes of running, close enough to the cave's North exit that Grima could see sunlight rolling across the floor at the end of their path. She turned to face the trio, mouth forced into a tight line. Displeased, but obedient. "What weapons do you wield? If you're going to fight, you'll need something to fight with." Corrin opened her mouth to respond, but Nadia cut her off before she could. "And don't even think about trying to hurt any of us with them. If you so much as look at my back with a suspicious look in your eye, one of my brethren will cut you down without question. We don't tolerate traitors here. Traitors mean death in this land where Anankos has spent the last decade and a half killing off any human he can get his claws on. Or his men can get their spears on. He's not one to waste time accomplishing things himself," she spat.
"When was the last time he was seen in person?" Grima asked, watching as Nadia narrowed her eyes in response.
"In person? He's a monster, not a person. A dragon who wants nothing more than the end of all life," she retorted.
Now that Grima had to disagree with.
First, just because a dragon was not a human did not mean they were not a person. At least, a manakete. It could be argued that a dragon who refused to give up their true form was not a person, but a dragon who had chosen to store their spirit in a dragonstone and attain human form by converting into a manakete was, in fact, a person. They looked like men for the most part. They could talk like men. Think like men (and better). Act like men. If taguels, wolfskin, and kitsune were all considered people despite being distinctly not human, why would a manakete not be a person too? The Rainbow Sage was a dragon who had taken on human form, thus a manakete, and Grima had no doubt Anankos had long since done the same. Thus he was a person, even if the girl before him wished to deny it.
Second, Anankos didn't want the end of all life. The end of human life? Now that seemed to be right. But the end of all life? Valla had a lush green landscape, full of colorful birds and the occasional small mammal. If Anankos really wanted the end of all life, none of that would exist. After all, when Grima had wanted the same, he'd covered the skies in heavy clouds of ash and dark magic, covering the sun and killing the greenery that relied on it. He'd used his connection to the land to poison the soil and water near his home, letting the natural flows and cycles of nature spread the plague he'd created until the wildlife of even distant lands died from poisoned crops and the humans who normally fed from them wasted away from starvation. He'd traveled the skies, raining fire and plumes of toxic energy on the lands that began to prosper beyond his liking; the lands whose people were starting to hope just a bit too much, going from amusements to annoyances.
If Anankos wanted the end of all life, he wouldn't have started by picking off humans. Humans were strong creatures. It was so much easier to start further down the food chain.
And fun, for that matter. To watch them suffer, to watch hope grow and die in their eyes.
But that was something Grima found fun. He had no idea whether Anankos treasured suffering. By the way he pitted Hoshido and Nohr against each other, Grima had a feeling Anankos was more interested in the end goal of ending humanity rather than the potentially exciting process of drawing that end out.
Still. Anankos could've killed all life quickly if he wanted. Being in Valla, Grima could feel the other dragon's connection to the land, and it was no little thing.
So Anankos didn't want the end of all life. He wanted the end of humanity. And those were two very, very different things.
Nadia sighed after about a minute of silence, likely realizing Grima (Robin) wasn't going to take the bait or rise to either fight or support her. "But it's been ten or twelve years, I think. I was a child then, so I don't remember it very well, and no one really likes to talk about it. The phantom soldiers are creepy as they are. Some worry that by talking about him too much, he'll somehow hear and find us. We try to focus on other things."
Grima nodded. "Got it. Thanks," he replied, monotone.
Nadia grit her teeth. Corrin jumped in before Nadia or Grima could say anything else. "As for weapons, I use a sword, while Azura uses a naginata - or lance, if you don't have any -, and Robin a tome. Do you have any spares?" Her voice was much sweeter than any other Grima had heard that day.
The sweetness seemed to work, the stiffness disappearing from Nadia's shoulders. "We do. The armory is right through this door." She nodded to their left, where a curtain hung from a heavy rod embedded into the cave wall. Then she took a few steps forward, pushing it aside and walking in. The trio followed her.
"George!" she yelled, causing the young man checking the swords on one of the various weapon racks in the room to jump and spin around, eyes wide. "I need one sword, one tome, and one lance please."
George kept up the frightened expression as he looked the trio up and down, confusion evident. "Who…?"
"Lady Ilna said to trust them. They're going to help us fight."
"Where are they from? I don't recognize the outfits of the two with white hair. They look odd."
"Don't know, don't care. Not for now, anyway. Weapons, please? We don't have any time to waste, Georgie!"
George straightened immediately. "Of course, Nadia." He made eye contact with Corrin. "You're the sword user, right?" Corrin blinked a few times before nodding. Next Azura. "You use the lance," another nod, then to Grima, "and you the tome?"
Wow. He got all three of them. Grima was impressed.
Corrin shared the thought. "Yup, that's all right. You must be pretty experienced to get all that after only a few seconds of looking."
"Well, it's not that much," George said with a blush. "I just looked at your builds and guessed which one was right for you. Your friend over there has on a heavy coat, so he definitely doesn't use a lance, because it would get all caught up in that. I figured he probably wouldn't use a sword either, because the coat might hinder his movements and make swordplay a bit more difficult. From there, I guessed you were the swordsman because you have on the heaviest armor, and sword users tend to get closer to their opponents than lance wielders, necessitating more armor. Does that make sense?"
"Perfect!" Corrin responded, at the exact same moment Grima replied, "impressive."
"Yes yes, very good," Nadia butted in, stepping forward to wave George back to the racks. "Now arm them. We don't have all day. Move."
"Ah, yes Nadia! Apologies!"
With that George began to move through the racks, picking up a sword or lance here and there before either putting them back or tossing them to Corrin or Azura to swing around for a moment to check how they felt. It only took about two minutes before both girls were armed, leaving Grima the only one without a weapon.
George frowned when he looked at the last member of the trio. "I'm really sorry, but we only have this old thing," he said, grabbing an old tome from one of the chests in the room and handing it over.
Grima's eyes widened when the tome was placed into his hands.
It was a Thoron tome. Something Grima and Robin hadn't seen since coming to Archaea. And not only was it a Thoron tome, but it was a breakable one. And one that only had about fifteen uses left at best, if Grima was getting a proper feel for it.
"It's an old tome, one passed down for a few generations. I'm not sure where it came from, but it's strong. Unfortunately, with every spell the user casts, a few of the pages are burnt away by the lightning that comes from it. I don't think it has many uses left."
"That's quite all right," Grima hummed, turning the thing over and flipping through it. "I've used tomes like this one before. I know how to make good use of it."
George's eyes lit up. "Really? Oh, great! I was worried that thing would sit and collect dust for the rest of my life." He looked over to Nadia. "That should be everything then. Now go out and crush those dastards! I'll be here if you need anything."
Nadia smiled back to him. "Thanks. I'll keep that in mind." She then addressed the trio. "With that taken care of, let's get a move on. There's no time like the present!"
Nadia ran back through the curtain door. Thanking George, Azura and Corrin ran after her a moment later. Grima didn't feel the need to voice similar sentiments, but he did give George one last nod before following them.
It was time for the battle to begin.
The first thing Grima noticed once his eyes adjusted to the blindingly bright light of the outside world was that the back side of the mountain was surrounded by high, curving cliffs on all sides. There was a small path out at the bottom, but the aerial view of the mountainside the cave led to would likely be completely blocked by the surrounding mountains. Grima could see how the pegasus knights would have missed the back entrance to the cave with such a obstacle to their field of vision. That didn't mean it excused their mistake though. Such negligence in their search could have led to heavy casualties on the Cantan army's part, if the Vallites had not inhabited the back end of the cave and had Anankos' troops flooded in as they were at present and attacked the Cantans while they were asleep and unarmed.
And what a force there was coming for them.
This side of the mountain was heavily terraced. A variety of crops were present on them, fenced and connected to a central stream that ran down the cliff until it hit a waterfall. There was even a small pen with various livestock in it, with what looked like pegasus stables nearby. It was an impressive setup for the strange place they found themselves, outside but not fully exposed to the outside world. A great deal of sunlight filtered in through the many holes in the surrounding cliffs despite the way they covered the mountainside to provide the plants with the light they needed to grow, evidence of crumbling earth and floating land alike as Grima wagered that, were Valla to not possess its strange penchant for floating land masses, the cliffs would collapse onto the mountainside below and crush everything on it.
He wondered briefly if he'd survive such a collapse in Robin's body. He'd healed the boy from severe injuries before, but if he were to be so thoroughly crushed, even if he managed to fix the wounds he doubted he'd be able to claw his way out of the dirt before he suffocated from lack of oxygen. Pity. Humans were so fragile.
The invisible soldiers, on the other hand…
It was impressive, watching them run up the mountainside without slowing the slightest. Unlike humans, they didn't appear to have any need for breathing, and they did not tire. Their chests did not heave as they moved to higher elevations and exerted themselves, they did not pause to consider the best path when they reached an area with uneven footing. They pressed onwards. Like Risen, but less likely to have a leg pop off if they tripped. Now, was it possible for them to cut a leg or crush a leg badly if they were to have a particularly unfortunate tumble? Most likely. But would their legs just fall off like those of some of the more poorly made Risen Grima had had the misfortune of watching some unqualified mages make? No.
Both were relatively mindless creatures, but of a different breed. Were Anankos of sound mind Grima would love to have a conversation on how he made his soldiers work. What kind of magic allowed him to control his phantoms, what magic produced them. Were they based on humans in appearance alone, or was there an actual human-based component to them? A body or heart or flesh or blood twisted by dragon magic to fit Anankos' needs?
So many questions. But so little time.
Because with every second Grima watched and thought, the soldiers grew closer. At the base of the mountain, he watched a squadron of pegasus knights dive bomb some of the troops that were getting too close to the livestock, fighting with the desperation of those who knew that, if they failed in their task, they would likely starve.
A scream accompanied each dive. Some screams orders, others cries of victory or purpose or frustration.
Grima watched as one particular pegasus knight swept down toward a phantom myrmidon, her lance slicing through the fingers of her enemy and severing them, making the man plummet from his previous position holding onto a notch in the mountainside a few feet away from the pen's edge. He fell swiftly and without so much as a twitch that might have put him into a position that could have saved his life. He didn't try to flatten himself to slow the fall, to angle himself so he might fall in a nearby pool of water, to curl into a ball and protect his head or any other part of his body. It was as if the moment his fingers were severed he knew he was going to die and didn't even bother to fight it, his soon-to-be corpse plummeting without a sound other than the whistling of the air until it finally slammed into the ground below, a sickening crack surrounding him before it was overtaken by the hiss of the mist surrounding his body disappearing, the corpse dissolving into nothingness a moment later.
How disappointing. Even Risen tried to save themselves when they were put in assuredly fatal situations. Such complacency or apathy or simply laziness was no fun to watch.
Not that Grima had much time for that. He'd been slowly ambling forward as he watched, moving until he reached the edge of the terrace about three levels below the cave entrance. He wanted a position from which he could survey the battlefield while still being in range to attack their new enemies. If he truly wanted to he could hit them from the mountaintop, far above the cave's entrance, but that wasn't a particularly human power level. He had appearances to maintain. Or Robin did. If it was only Grima he wouldn't care, but Grima was unfortunately shackled to a human and pre-owned body at the moment, and one he cared for for that matter. If only he'd come to possess some other random member of the army whose reputation he wouldn't feel any guilt over spoiling. Then again, most members of the army were terribly pathetic creatures Grima didn't want to associate with, much less possess. Just the thought made him shiver in disgust.
Corrin and Azura ran past Grima, following one of the paths down the terraces to get in melee range. They'd agreed that Corrin was not to use her dragon form if she could at all avoid it out of a worry that the Vallites might immediately try to attack them were she to do so, or cut off all chances of forming an alliance or a mutual aid pact even if they didn't try to kill her directly. Dragons were rare creatures. When the Vallites were only familiar with one and that one had tried to exterminate them, revealing Corrin was a similar being would not incite happy feelings.
It was exciting, watching the battle unfold before him. To hear the clash of steel and silver, to watch the struggle of the human combatants, the force with which the devoted fought for their cause.
Grima could feel his power bubbling up within him, begging for release, begging for a chance to join in the fights. It had been trapped within Robin's body for so long, building, growing. Robin hadn't seemed to notice it very often, but it was always there, held back by Grima's presence. Now that Grima had finally been presented with an opportunity to release it...he'd have to be careful not to let out too much at once. He could be a little flashy, but not too spectacular. To amaze, but not frighten or drive suspicion.
The question was whether or not Grima would get a proper opportunity to use his power. When they'd first come onto the now-battlefield, Nadia had briefly talked to one of the older members of the Vallites who appeared to be taking command of the situation, introducing the trio. The commander had assigned each of the three separate roles, ordering Grima to wait at the entrance to pick off people with his tome, while directing Corrin to fight about midway down the mountainside with Azura to back her up. It was clear to the experienced warrior from their builds and the ways each held their weapons that, while Azura was no stranger to battle, she was more used to a supportive role as opposed to Corrin's more active one.
Corrin cut through her opponents with a ferocity Grima had rarely seen from the girl. She was so opposed to killing for someone who had been fought in a country valuing conquest so highly and who was the centerpiece in a continent wide war. She hesitated in most battles, pulling her hits so ensure those she wounded were only that - hurt, but not in a mortal way. Thus she was always holding back, unable to demonstrate her true power because her morals dictated she not kill whenever possible. Or frankly, ever, regardless of whether it was reasonably possible. There had been more than a few cases in which Robin or another person had had to clean up a mess she had created by leaving a certain someone alive who should not have been left alive, or when she was caught in a corner because she could not devise a way defeat her foe without killing them, leading to a prolonged battle that needlessly drained her stamina.
Now, however, Corrin had no such inhibitions. Her enemies were not people. They were not living beings with minds of their own. They were puppets. Phantoms. There was no one to mourn them, no fear that could form in their hearts. So Corrin cut them down without a second thought as far as Grima could tell, and it was wonderful.
She ran up to an archer, lunging forward to shove her borrowed sword through his chest before spinning the side to cut a berserker across his axe arm, using the momentum of her spin to extract the sword from the archer's chest and plunge it into her new enemy. She did not have to worry about knocking a bow away. She did not have to take the time to pull out the sword carefully so she could reduce the momentum of her swing and only hit the berserker with enough force that he would lose his grip, rather than the entire arm or some particularly important vein that might cause him to bleed to death were she to hit it.
No. Corrin stabbed. She twirled. She cut again. Her opponents were left dead.
Azura followed behind, keeping anyone from attacking Corrin in her blind spot. Her lance made clean arcs through the air, keeping the berserker off balance, keeping anyone from getting too close. Sweeping at the feet of a Basara who had tried to catch the pair off guard, causing them to lose their balance just long enough for Corrin to get in an unopposed swing.
They were a wonderful pair, those two. They had a great feel for where the other would be, where they could support. Azura had a certain grace about her when she moved, increased from her usual fluidity. Perhaps Valla had that effect on her. Meanwhile, Corrin fought with a force that put her usual moves to shame.
He hoped that that was a trend that would remain. Corrin had so much potential. She'd already grown an astounding amount in the short time he and Robin had known her. If that trend could continue, if she could continue to hone that strength and her abilities without the fear of accidentally killing a person whose life she thought better saved…
Well. That was for the future. In the present moment, Grima finally had something to do. A ninja had made their way past the first few layers of Vallite troops, running along the fencing so those on the other side didn't know they were there. They'd manage to land a shuriken in the shoulders of one of the Vallite soldiers, who'd collapsed with a loud cry that alerted Grima to the situation. The onmyouji next to Grima cast a physic spell (or whatever you would call the magic that came out from the wane festal she held) on the collapsed soldier to keep him alive, but the ninja didn't seem to care he hadn't gotten the kill and instead continued making his way up the mountain, avoiding the few arrows that the lone Sniper who had noticed him shot.
Grima scoffed. The phantom soldier could dodge arrows, but he wasn't perfect. He couldn't dodge everything.
Raising his Thoron tome, Grima flipped through the pages a few times, trying to find a circle that was more suited to long range. A spell in the spellbook that was geared toward distance, rather than power, even if at its core it was the same Thoron at everything else.
He found it a few seconds later, and before the ninja could throw the shuriken he'd prepared, the man was engulfed by a rain of lightning bolts. Smoke rose from the spot he'd stood. Some from singed grass, some from burnt cloth and flesh. The ninja stumbled. Then he fell backward, dissolving into nothingness before his body had time to hit the ground.
Easy.
The onmyouji at Grima's left blinked a few times, huffing in disbelief.
"How...how did you do that?" she asked. "Tomes shouldn't go so far, should they?"
No, they shouldn't. Not Thoron, at least, nor any tome he'd seen since coming to Archaea. Dark magic was much more attuned to long range attacks, spells like Mire and Worm taking too long to summon against close range enemies but perfect for surprising foes from afar. Some spells suddenly enveloping them without any time to run; death whose origin they could not find. Others chasing them as they tried in vain to flee, the last moments of their lives spent in absolute terror.
Grima dearly hoped he'd be able to use one such spell soon. There was nothing wrong with using anima magic, but he wasn't well suited for it. Dark magic had always felt more comfortable in his palm.
Grima shrugged to the woman. "True, most don't. But this one is special, see? One of your allies, George I think he was called, gave this to me. It's the tome that loses pages whenever you use it. Maybe that's what makes it go so far, or vice versa."
The woman frowned, staring at the tome for a moment, before she hesitantly nodded. "Alright. That makes sense. Just...be careful where you fire that thing, okay? I don't want you accidentally catching one of us in the crossfire because you misjudged where you were casting it."
"Will do," Grima agreed. He moved his gaze back to the mountainside, looking for a new target to-
"Corrin!"
His eyes shot down to where he'd last seen Azura and Corirn, the former having screamed the latter's name with an urgency he'd rarely heard from her.
They weren't where he'd last seen them, nor were they together. Azura was on the edge of the terrace she'd been on before, but Corrin was on the one below, surrounded by broken earth and rubble and holding a hand tightly to her side. He could see blood staining the white hair near it red, and the dirt that clumped against the armor she held had turned dark.
Still, she did not stop, lunging forward to fight off what appeared to be a dismounted paladin with a twitching downed horse behind him. Her movements were sluggish though. The lunge did not go as far as it should have. She overextended her arm, losing her balance for a moment before it was reclaimed just in time to dodge the paladin's spear. Had the paladin's movements not also been sloppy, his front arm bloodied and injured, she would have lost an ear if not more.
As it was the paladin managed a swipe at her side that, had he the strength in his arm to swing harder and had Corrin not been wearing armor, would have pierced her side. Corrin managed to bat him away, but not without slipping once again. It wasn't a good situation.
Not only was she injured, but the ground beneath them was uneven and unstable. From the crumbled earth around them and the look of the terrace Azura was desperately looking for a quick way down, Corrin and the paladin had most likely been fighting on the level above when the ground had collapsed beneath them. The fall would have thrown the paladin from his horse, wounding the animal to the point that it had begun to dissolve into the air, finally passing away from its injuries. The throw seemed to be what had so badly injured the paladin's arm, the man having likely thrown it out to brace himself for the fall and suffering for the move. The large amount of dirt and mud caked on Corrin's side thus must have come from the collapse and corresponding slide, disorienting her in a way that slowed her movements beyond what the blood loss from the wound at her side would cause.
Damn it, hadn't they had enough head wounds lately!? Really, if she was not merely disoriented but actually concussed…!
"You!" Grima shouted at his companion with the festal. She startled at the call, unprepared for the sudden shout. "Do you see the girl with white hair halfway down the mountain? One of my companions?"
The onmyouji blinked furiously before looking down the mountain, eyes scanning for white hair and the girl Grima spoke of. She nodded about ten seconds later, looking back to Grima without casting a single spell.
Grima grit his teeth. "Well? What are you doing? Don't just stand there! Heal her. She's clearly injured, or can you not tell with the blood staining her hair and dripping from her side?"
The onmyouji said nothing in response, eyes widening before she closed them and began to whisper under her breath, chanting as she raised her festal to begin the festal-physic spell.
When Corrin's body lit up with the tell-tale glow of healing magic, both she and Azura who had eventually settled on sliding down the collapsed terrace and dirtying her dress looked to the mountaintop. Both waved at Grima when they spotted him, Corrin shouting a 'thank you' to the onmyouji when the healing spell was done.
The onmyouji shouted a timid 'thank you' back, and once she was done Corrin leapt back into the fray, Azura following right behind.
The sorcerer before her stood no chance. He hadn't even finished raising his hand before he was down an arm, the malig knight who attempted to finish the job finding a spear in their chest (via Azura, who'd pilfered it from the paladin's fading course and thrown it with an impressive amount of force) before they could properly aim their spell, the thunder exploding in their face and downing the wyvern they rode on.
Those two taken care of Corrin moved on to a swordmaster one of the Vallites was struggling with. She yelled for the Vallite to duck as she moved forward, her steel blade cutting toward the swordsman in a clean arc that caught him in the shoulder, slicing through bone until she reached somewhere near his sternum. The Vallite fighter followed up her attack by embedding his axe in the back of the swordsman's right leg. Both weapons went in deep, too far in to pull out easily. It took until the phantom soldier disappeared into the end before both Corrin and the Vallite were able to withdraw their weapons, Azura standing guard in the meanwhile.
In addition to Corrin's warning not to use her dragonstone, the trio had agreed it might be best not to have Azura sing in Valla when not absolutely necessary. Her song had the power to weaken or wound Anankos, and they found it best not to expose their hand too early.
It was likely Anankos already knew the song had some sort of power due to his times possessing Takumi, but having been in another realm or world or whatever it would be considered when the song was sung, he likely didn't know its full power. And they wanted to keep things that way.
Confident the girls were out of extreme danger for the moment, Grima turned his focus back to scanning the mountainside for potential targets. Or opponents. But they were only really opponents if they could counter him, otherwise they were just moving marks.
Most that he hit were easy prey. Soldiers that had managed to sneak their way up the mountain undetected until Grima laid eyes on them, dead in a shower of sparks a moment later.
His attention was momentarily caught by a group of Vallites who appeared to be wheeling a fire orb out from the cave, but they waved him away once they realized he was looking at him, as if telling him it was none of his business nor his concern.
So, he turned his focus back to his tome-casting. The biggest trouble was deciding who to aim for. Had Grima one of the unlimited spellbooks common in Archaea (or perhaps only Canta, as the armory in this little hideaway had only the Thoron and no other spare tome or scroll), he'd be attacking all that entered his range. Perhaps slightly fewer to maintain appearances. But as it was, each time he identified a potential target he had to wait a moment to consider whether it was worth killing them; whether some other Vallite would reach the before they got to the mountaintop, whether they were in a position to kill or seriously injure other Vallites if left alone or if they would try to avoid combat to reach the cave entrance, and so on. While the careful planning required to ration his spells did keep the battle from growing completely boring, it was still disappointing to be held back so much. A single spell for a single opponent was dull when he had to wait so long in between castings.
Then a perfect opportunity appeared before him.
The tide of battle had turned. At first, the Vallites and Anankos' soldiers had been on fairly even ground. Though the Vallites were more familiar with the terrain and worked better as a unit, Anankos' soldiers had no fear of injury and lacked the consciousness to hesitate in their decisions. The two fighting styles matched each other in a way that kept one from gaining an obvious advantage for nearly an hour, both sides having a stream of soldiers constantly entering the battlefield to replace downed or exhausted allies. On the Vallite's part, there was only so much space so they could only send out so many soldiers at once. On the Phantom Soldiers' part, the army simply trailed back a long distance so it just took a while for reinforcements to arrive.
By the time the first hour of the battle had ended, the Vallites had gained the upper hand. Anankos' reinforcements had ceased to come, so their numbers were dwindling, while the Vallites still had some waiting in the cave. Though they didn't have the greatest number of troops, they used them efficiently and sent tired soldiers back into the cave to rest for a time before returning to the battlefield, making sure only refreshed soldiers were on the front line. Of course, being foreigners, Azura, Corrin, and Grima stayed out the entire time. Corrin and Azura had slowed somewhat, fighting close to but not right on the front lines. Grima, being stuck at the top and not doing much aside from casting the occasional spell, wasn't tired in the slightest.
So when his opportunity arose, he took it at near-full strength. A chance to let some of the bubbling power out, to feel the addicting rush of magic through his body. Borrowed or not.
A large group of phantom soldiers had snuck up the mountainside by quietly wading up one of the streams, snipers among them picking off Vallites attempting to stop them. Occasionally one of the sorcerers with them would cast a fire toward an unsuspecting Vallite, unable to see the enemy soldiers through the tall grass and reeds lining the stream.
Scanning the stream, Grima checked to make sure Anankos' soldiers were the only ones in the water. They were.
With a grin on his face, Grima opened the Thoron tome, raising his right hand, feeling the sparks hop across his fingertips and the air grow light as he focused on his target. The soldiers were spread out, twelve of them covering a span of about thirty-five feet. Too far to catch in one direct hit.
So, he moved his hand down, palm flat and pointed forward. Forward, and slightly down. Toward the part of the stream right in front of the first soldier.
The air lit up with magic circles, layer upon layer guiding the path of the dozen lightning bolts, so close they seemed to form one uniform beam, to the water. And when they hit…
Screams.
Or, whatever you would call the choking sound the phantom soldiers made when severely injured. The sound of seizing bodies, electrocuted so strongly their muscles convulsed uncontrollably and throat produced sounds they never would have normally.
The smell of burnt flesh filled the air a moment later. But only for a short time, as the bodies were so badly burnt by their electrocution they dissolved into nothingness within seconds, already half gone from the force of the magic they'd been hit with.
Ahhh. What a beautiful sight. A wonderful feeling. Power, gathered and released. Bodies bent to his will. Screams from the normally silent, acknowledging his power. It was satisfying in a way nothing could replicate.
When he'd killed for the very first time, Grima had felt guilty. The human who lay dead at his feet had had a life, had had emotions, had likely had some sort of family. He'd stolen that from them.
When he'd begun to kill occasionally out of self defense, it felt more annoying than anything. It was something he'd rather not do, but something he could not avoid much as he tried to do so.
When he started to kill preemptively, it was out of frustration. Anger. Perhaps it was deserved, but still taking up time he'd rather spend doing other things.
It took until a few years into the mass killings, into the times when he'd kill dozens at once, that he began to find peace in the action. Peace in power. Peace in control. Peace in the solitude it brought him, whether because people avoided him out of fear or because they avoided him out of reverence.
Then the madness took hold, and peace turned to pleasure. To joy at seeing life ended, to elation at being the one to do it himself. It wasn't merely deserved. It was a gift. Not to the dead, of course. To himself. For all he'd suffered. For all his people had suffered. For all the lies and ignorance the humans fed themselves.
In the future now gone, that pleasure eventually turned to a sort of boredom. An exhaustion, an unavoidable feeling of being tired. He ran out of targets. The fight was too easy. The struggle too weak. It was no longer fun. No longer pleasurable, no longer peaceful. Just boring. There weren't enough people nor was their enough fight left in most of those who remained to entice him anymore.
It was why he'd had so much fun after travelling to this Robin's time. His opponents fought with ferocity and devotion he hadn't seen on such a consistent level in nearly a decade. Robin himself held an impressive passion, spurred on by his closest companion, Chrom. Two halves of the same whole, they said. And wasn't that a truth.
Grima had to try when he fought them, when he summoned up soldiers and Risen to combat their armies. He had to put in actual effort, and that was gratifying.
He was still tired, in that time. Some part of him, half mad, loved the fight. Some part of him wanted it all to end, to be free. He had some clarity but not nearly enough, and he couldn't tell what he wanted anymore. A hard fight, no fight, something.
Here, in this new land, he'd settled on his answer. He needed stimulation. Not to be a ruler who few talked to unless they wished to shower him in praise. Not a deity too sacred to bother. He wanted to fight, to converse, to strategize. To control, to an extent, but not in such a way he wouldn't find proper engagement. He liked debate. Back and forth. Compromise.
That was part of the reason Robin had grown on him so much. The Robin whose body he had killed Chrom in had long since given up trying to debate with Grima. The few times he woke up, back before Grima hopped to this Robin, he either tried to guilt trip Grima or questioned all his motives, cursing him all the while. Occasionally he begged Grima to stop, but the arguments grew stale after a while. He grew boring. He was much too one sided.
This Robin was willing to consider Grima's opinions. To listen and offer suggestions to refine them, or reasons why they were less than ideal. They didn't have to share or agree on every opinion, but they would at least consider them together. Robin would ask Grima for his input on the strategies he devised. That was the sort of engagement Grima wanted. If he were to be placed on a throne again, Grima would love to have Robin as his tactician. Each in their own body, of course. But he'd love to have Robin there.
He dearly hoped Robin would wake up soon. He was, as much as he hated to admit it, getting lonely without the boy's presence. It felt empty without him. Even if it hadn't been this Robin, exactly, he'd been with a Robin for over two decades. It was only a drop in the bucket in terms of his lifespan, but that accounted for nearly his entire life post-awakening. Life without Robin…
It was boring. Boring and lonely. If the idiot boy didn't wake up sometime soon, Grima was going to have to resort to some very questionable actions to speed up the process.
He was drawn out of his thoughts when the commander Nadia had spoken to earlier came up to his side, a mix of horror and anger on his face. Like he wanted to be steaming furious, but was held back by an unignorable fear.
"Can I help you?" Grima asked, dropping the hand holding Thoron to his side.
"What in the world did you just do!?"
"Killed the enemy. They were picking off your soldiers, so I thought it best to get rid of them all at once. My tome only has a limited number of spells though, so I wouldn't have been able to defeat them all if I took them down one by one." He lifted the tome, turning it over. It was empty. His last spell, stronger than the usual Thoron, had consumed the last three uses all at once. "I've actually run out, now."
The commander's eye twitched. "You're not the only one here, you know. Others could have helped, had you told them where the enemy was approaching from. Had you misjudged your spell, you could've destroyed the crops or killed any of our troops who had managed to step in the water in between when you began charging and when you cast your spell."
Grima nodded. "True. But no one was hurt, were they? And the crops remain whole, apart from the damages sustained when the phantom soldiers passed over them before I killed them."
"You…" the commander bit his lip. He took in a deep breath, letting it out in a long sigh. "You're right. Just...be careful, will you? Things are stressful enough. I don't know who you are or where you came from, so I don't know why you're helping us beyond wanting our aid in return. For what, I don't know. I don't have enough information to determine your character or the morals behind your motivations. So don't scare us, because you're walking a fine line even if you haven't done anything wrong. It's the nature of new relationships in this post-Anankos world."
"Understood and agreed. Should I remain here as a lookout, then? If anyone has a spare tome I would be glad to use it, but-"
The commander shook his head furiously. "No, no, that's fine. You have a great eye, and that's good enough. The troops might be a little on edge after your last move, helpful as it was, so staying unarmed might help them calm down and warm to you."
"Of course."
The commander gave him one last nod before walking up to the fire orb a few dozen feet away. Standing behind it, using the magic contained within to cast an amplified, long-range spell was Ilna.
What a clever strategy. Though Ilna's leg injury meant she could not fight in close combat on foot, they'd devised another way to include her in battle that was likely even more impactful than whatever her previous contribution had been. From the way plumes of spoke and bursts of flames shot out from the orb to various members of Anankos' army, he could tell she was quite the experienced spell caster.
After Ilna finished casting the spell she was on, she opened her eyes and looked over to Grima, nodding in his direction with a soft smile. He nodded back. She returned to casting, hands glowing red with the orb beneath them.
It was too bad they didn't have anything Grima could use. Acting as a lookout could help win him trust though, so he did his job dutifully.
Corrin and Azura continued cutting their way through the phantom troops, gradually slowing but not stopping. Fighting for over an hour was beyond what regular soldiers were used to. The conditioning required to maintain such a high level of activity for so long was near-extreme, and if it was not for the healing spells being slung at the two and the slight rejuvenating power associated with them, the two would've collapsed a long time ago. As it was, even though the two hadn't left the battlefield entirely, they had had to pull back for a few minutes at a time to catch their breaths and give their bodies a rest.
Grima spent the next ten or so minutes shouting enemy locations to the sniper and onmyouji next to him, the two working diligently to take down those he spotted. Eventually the sniper ran out of arrows, the quiver on his back and the extra on the ground both completely empty. There was no one around he could take some from, so he told Grima and the onmyouji that he would be back soon and ran into the cave to restock in the armory, leaving the two to fend for themselves. Not that that was very difficult, because Anankos' soldiers numbers continued to wane. But the Vallites were tired, even with the reinforcements and breaks. The likelihood of casualties were increasing with their slowed reaction times, worse than those of the phantom soldiers who had no sentience that might tell them they were tired or frustrated or bored or anything else. They only slowed when they had a severe injury that physically prevented them from being fast, not because they had a wound elsewhere that one a human would slow them out of pain. Such creatures felt no such detriment.
Though she had her hands full trying to manage both long-range healing and spells to keep the occasional phantom who got close from entering the cave, the onmyouji insisted she was fine working as she was and didn't need to hand her scroll off to Grima. She'd had to double task every time the cave was attacked by Anankos (which, though infrequent, had happened at least a handful of times), so there was no need for Grima to worry himself about taking on some of his duties.
Or really, she didn't want to hand him a scroll because he'd already made a huge explosion that had nearly scared the life out of her based on the ear splitting scream she'd let out when the stream had lit up with electricity, and she didn't want to experience that again.
For a fighter the woman scared very easily. She'd even jumped when the commander had very loudly and unsubtly walked up to them earlier.
Though her reaction times were very fast, she wasn't instantaneously quick to act. When she was casting her scroll and someone shouted for a healing spell, she'd have to take the five or ten seconds to finish her scroll spell to move on to healing, or vice versa.
Thus, when she had just begun casting a physic and a trio of kinshi knight swept down at Ilna from the shadows of one of the overhead cliffs, the onmyouji was in no position to help. Nor was Ilna, eyes closed as she prepared the fire orb, movement too stunted by the brace to jump out of the way even if she did see the knight going for her.
Grima only had a split second to act when he spotted the knights, naginatas pointed down as they dived toward Ilna with enough speed to not only pierce the woman straight through the chest without slowing, but likely enough to shatter the orb that had been raining death on the phantom soldiers as well.
His Thoron tome was out of spells. The Fimbulvetr in his coat took a good ten seconds to cast.
So Grima raised his hand high, dark magic sparking around it.
"Get down!" he yelled to Ilna, who opened her eyes, saw the Kinshi Knight, and immediately had her legs crumble under her as she fell to the floor.
The very same instant Grima let the spell go, something in between a swarm and expiration, engulfing the kinshi knights in purple mist and a dark surge of sparking energy that spread out in a space five time the kinshi knights and their steed's size, long spikes of magic turned sludge piercing through the kinshi's wings in the same moment the energy surged through their riders' body, screams ripping through the air before the spell practically ripped them out of existence, the explosion so loud and severe the air around them seemed to collapsed in on itself to fill the space they had been in, the accompanying thunderous boom echoing throughout the enclosed mountain space.
For a moment after the explosion, aside from the echoes everything was silent.
Everyone had frozen. Vallite and phantom alike. No swords clashing. No spells crashing. Just the echoes of a booming explosion bouncing off mountains and cliffsides.
Grima bit his lip. So much for trying to pretend normalcy. He hadn't unleashed his full power, energy still clawing at his heart begging to be released like some of it had moments before, but it had been more than he had wanted to before this battle had begun.
But had he not cast his spell, had he not eliminated the kinshi knights in that very moment, Ilna would have been struck dead. Ilna, their key to gaining the Vallite's trust and aid. And that was unacceptable.
So, ignoring the terrified look of the already-terrified onmyouji, Grima ran over to Ilna, crouching at her side.
"How do you fair?" he asked, looking her over. Her brace-covered leg was twisted awkwardly, the weight of the thing making it bend strangely when she'd fallen over.
She simply stared at him. No words, just wide eyes and heavy breaths.
He cleared his throat. 'How do you fair' wasn't a Robin phrase, not that this woman would know the difference. But it might have put her off, so he tried again. Saving her life would've been a complete waste if she now decided he was the enemy and ordered her people to attack him where they might have otherwise just refused to help the Cantan army had she died and he been unable to wave her.
"Are you alright? Were you at all caught by my spell? They were coming down so fast I didn't have time to get you out of the way any other way or give you much warning. Sorry about that."
Ilna swallowed hard. "Yes, I'm fine. Just a bit surprised…" She looked away from him.
"How is your leg?" he asked, pointing to the one covered in the brace.
"It will be fine," she replied, sounding a bit dazed. She took a deep breath, sounding much more put together after releasing it. "I can't feel it very well, so the impact didn't jar it too terribly. It has been like this since Anankos first attacked the royal palace, so don't worry about having prolonged the healing process or anything like that. This is just how it is. The injury has long since become a normal part of my life."
The royal palace… So she had been there. Grima's theory that she either worked for or was friends with Azura's mother gained points towards truth.
"I see. Still, I apologize for startling you and for having been unable to protect you faster or in a less dangerous way."
Ilna shook her head. "Don't worry yourself. I saw them in the split second between when your spell first sparked the air and when they were engulfed. With the speed they were traveling at and how close they were, had you waited even a moment I know my life would have been lost. So thank you. Truly."
Grima nodded, looking up from Ilna to where the commander and onmyouji had run up to them. Further down the mountain he could hear combat had resumed, so it seemed the soldiers had finally shaken off their immobility.
"Lady Ilna!" they both cried, though not quite in unison. Both crouched at her side, the onmyouji pulling out a close-range festal and starting up a healing spell.
Ilna sighed. "I'm fine, both of you. There's no need to heal me. I have not been injured, merely startled."
"Are you sure, Lady Ilna?" the commander asked.
"Absolutely," she replied, trying to push the festal away.
The onmyouji gently moved Ilna's hand off the festal, continuing to cast. "Just in case, Lady Ilna. please let me finish casting. You're irreplaceable."
Another sigh, but Ilna conceded. "You all worry too much, you know."
"For good reason!" the commander quipped, running a hand through his short hair. Then he directed his attention to Grima, narrowing his eyes. "You."
"Yes?"
"How did you do that? Your spellbook ran out of uses. You told me so. So how? I've never seen any magic like that, especially not of that...strength."
Of course he hadn't. Expiration was a spell exclusive to Grima. Dark magic borne of his own soul. No one else could ever attempt to replicate it in any sort of meaningful way.
But the commander wouldn't know that. Nohr's 'dark magic' was a pale imitation of the dark magic of Arit, and from the sounds of it Valla lacked dark magic as well.
He also wasn't familiar with limited use tomes from what Grima had gathered. So if he made up a little white lie…
"It had run out of its traditional spells," Grima explained, putting on a thoughtful look. "The thunder was all gone after I hit the river. But there was something else bubbling in there that I didn't fully understand. Something dark and powerful, but out of reach. It wasn't something I wanted to mess with, but when I saw the kinshi going for Ilna I reacted out of instinct and ended up casting it." He let the thoughtfulness morph into a slight mix between pain and nausea. "It's not something I could do again, though. That took way more out of me than I had imagined. Now that the adrenaline has worn off… I think I'll be out of commission for the rest of the day. Sorry."
"I see…" the commander replied. He shook his head. "Those tomes are powerful indeed. I'm not sure if I should be glad or disappointed there aren't more of them."
From there the Vallite trio broke off into simple chatter, Grima sitting with them but not contributing to the conversation.
A few minutes later, the battle was over. Anankos' troops had been eliminated. Many of the Vallites had been injured, but none in a way that healing spells or a week or two of rest couldn't fix. Corrin and Azura were tired, but overall okay.
Those two looked at Grima oddly when they walked up to him. He chose not to comment.
Instead he followed Ilna as she walked into the cave. The commander had offered her his arm but she had declined, insisting she was not injured and could walk herself. It was slow going, but she walked unassisted, settling down in a central area with a few tables and chairs. Corrin, Azura, and Grima stood nearby, letting the other Vallites take the available seats despite the exhaustion of the first two.
Once the soldiers who decided to stay in the central area rather than leave had too, settled, and a few older non-combatants Grima assumed held some sort of official positions or general respect had entered the room, Ilna began to speak.
"You all no doubt either witnessed or heard the explosion a short time ago, and can all see the three among us who are not from our group," she announced, voice loud enough to carry but not bearing the severity of a shout. A gentle power.
"The three of them came to our home asking for aid, claiming they aimed to defeat Anankos with the help of the rest of their army which at this moment waits on the other side of the mountain."
A few whispers. Ilna waited for them to die away, chin held high.
"The attack by Anankos' troops today was not in any way related to them. Of this, I am sure. They would not have come in peace had that been true, and we all know of Anankos' aversion to using human troops. He would not have sent three so far away from himself, and not three such as these. They do not work for Anankos, of that I am sure. When the attack began earlier, I asked them to fight with us because I believed they would be a good contribution to our forces, and because I wanted a chance to judge their character. They have more than proven themselves worthy of our trust. These two, Corrin and Azura, remained on the battlefield, only a short distance behind the front lines, the entire time. They helped our troops, catching the enemies we did not see, and supporting our friends who called for help. This man, Robin, saved me from an attack that would have spelled my death had he not intervened. That was the cause of the explosion, which while surprising, did me no harm. It saved my life, and he saved my life, and that aid was invaluable. For that, I ask that you trust them."
She took a deep breath. "But, I would like more than that. We should not harm that, that I believe, and with that I believe you agree."
Murmurs from the crowd. They did.
"We should not simply let them pass or allow them to stay the night. I ask you all to support them fully. To contribute a few soldiers to their cause."
Grima raised an eyebrow. He heard both girls gasp at his side.
The commander from earlier rose from his seat. "Lady Ilna. I understand you believe they support a good cause, that they wish to fight Anankos, but to give them soldiers? Their force can't be that big. It's suicide!" Another group of murmurs passed through the crowd, some of agreement and some not.
Ilna listened quietly, allowing the noise to pass. "I understand why you might be doubtful of their ability to succeed. But we've been planning an attack of our own for years, haven't we? I'm not asking us to send all of our troops. Some need to stay to protect us while they make their way to Anankos. But I am asking you to send a few. Enough to guide them, to help them avoid the more dangerous parts of our land, to guide them to safety and resources, to give their soldiers a chance to rest at times.
"I understand your hesitation. But I trust these three. And now is the time. After all," she looked to Azura, "our princess has at last returned to us. The royal family carries a power to cripple Anankos that no other bears. We cannot allow that power to be lost. We must support her fully, or we will never again have such a strong chance to finally rid our land of the monster that has terrorized it for so long."
Corrin's eyes hot over to Azura, who had stiffened. Shocked.
Meanwhile, the murmurs of the crowd grew to full on shouting. Conversations, exclamations, noise.
The princess of Valla, returned. Interesting.
"Your highness…?" the commander whispered, falling to his knees.
Azura coughed a few times. "Yes. I apologize for having disappeared so long ago and for having left you alone to suffer under Anankos rule. But I'm back now, and I've brought an army that I promise will do its best to free you all. I won't allow Anankos to hurt you all anymore. I owe it to you." She bowed deeply, staying horizontal for a good ten seconds before she rose.
"Are you sure she's the princess?" Nadia asked, walking up to Ilna from somewhere Grima hadn't paid attention to. "I mean, how do we know she's not just lying you to catch us off guard?"
Ilna narrowed her eyes. "Dear. I know you are too young to remember, but I held a place in the royal court, once upon a time. I worked alongside Her Majesty Queen Arete, I lunched with her, I chatted with her. Azura here is the spitting image of her mother. Her hair is shorter, but it shares the same shade. Her eyes are rounder, but they are undeniably the same gold, and even then are the shape of the late king's. Even if we were only to consider her appearance, it would be hard to deny she resembles the queen. Don't you agree, Havri? Marco?"
Two men across the room rose to their feet, bowing. "Yes, Ilna," they both said.
The older of the two, white and wrinkled, addressed the crowd. "As many of you know, I worked with the royal family for close to forty years. I began my service in my childhood, and saw many royals come and go. There is no denying Azura's resemblance to the queen and those who came before her. I am sure Marco would say the same." The other man nodded.
"Thank you Havri," Ilna followed. "And for those of you who may say that appearance is not enough, that is not the only piece of evidence we have. One of the treasures of the royal family, one which cannot be replicated, is a jeweled pendant. One that contains an ancient power. A power which can cripple Anankos when wielded by a member of the royal family, the only ones with a chance at using that power. Azura, if you would?"
Azura nodded, stepping forward and removing her necklace. She held it high, for all to see.
Ilna stepped up to her gesturing to the pendant. "See here! The pendant of the royal family! The key to Anankos' destruction! Azura is our princess returned. Azura is the one who will free us from this age of terror and tyranny! So please, I ask you all to support her and her allies, so that we might see Valla once again populated and ruled by humans in our lifetime!"
The room broke into cheers. A promise of safety. A glimpse of survival, of freedom. A precious thing, and one the Vallites were desperate for.
Azura looked a little overwhelmed, all things considered. But when Corrin slipped forward and placed a hand on Azura's arm, whispering something to her, Azura's faces softened and dropped into a smile.
Once the cheers died down somewhat, Havri stepped forward, bowing before Azura.
"Your highness, might you grace us with a song?" he asked, head down. He raised it. "Your mother's singing could rouse all the palace when she put her mind to it. In this time of terror, I can think of nothing more reassuring."
Azura glanced to each side at Corrin and Grima. Both nodded.
So, Azura placed her necklace back on her neck. She clasped her hands together. And then, she sang.
"You are the ocean's grey waves~"
Grima let out a deep breath as Azura moved through the song, the rest of the room going silent as they listened, enchanted by the sound.
It wasn't bad. She had a lovely voice, and the lyrics were interesting enough. They could be a little stronger, but they were still nice. He let the sound drift over him.
And then.
'What the heck is going on? Why is Azura singing? Where are we? Why can't I move?'
'Robin!?'
Author's Note:
First, have any of you read Berserk? If not, avoid this paragraph because spoilers. Non-specific spoilers so you could probably still read, but spoilers anyway. I really feel like I've re-written Guts on a Boat with Robin/Grima. You know Guts has to get off that damn boat eventually. But then the hiatus comes in and the rare chapters that come in are still on the boat and you're starting to wonder if he really will ever get off that boat or if the manga will stop updating for good before he hits land. Similar thing with this. We know Robin can't be gone forever. No way. He's the main character. But hiatus hit, as did chapters in which Robin was still asleep, and both you and I probably started to wonder if Robin would ever come back, or if this would stop updating first. As you can see, Robin did in fact wake up. Guts did in fact get off that boat! Sometimes good things take time. (Which...in my case should not have taken than much time, but motivation and inspiraiton issues wouldn't leave me alone so uh. it did.)
Second, notes on logic. I've gotten into the habit of explaining this on my Ao3 fics and I have fun doing that so I'll do it here. 1) George is named after Jorge from Path of Radiance, my first FE. I used to confuse him and Daniel all the time because I could never remember which name belonged to which guy. So even though it's not stated, George is a sandy blond. 2) The only Thoron in Fates comes from Robin, and it's tied with Excalibur for second strongest tome behind Ginnungagap. Seeing as Ginny halves magic the next attack, I'd consider Thoron the better tome. And since Thoron gives +5 crit evade and +3 Res while Excalibur gives -5 Def/Res & increases enemy (and user's, admittedly) chance to double attack… Thoron is the best tome. Totally not affected by my Robin bias. 3) Remember, when Grima doesn't sound like Grima, it's because he's trying to mimic Robin. He is not consistent about this, because sometimes he forgets and sometimes he just doesn't want to bother. Other times he wants to gain sympathy or establish a persona, so he lays it on thick. 4) The literal translation of LiTAA is a lot more violent/powerful than the official English translation in my opinion. Hence why Grima thinks the lyrics could be little stronger, because that severity I think is cool. This isn't a complaint about the official translation because localization is an important thing. I just think songs that talk about corpses and chaos are awesome.
Alright. That's enough rambling and notes and whatever. Thank you one last time for sticking with me, and I hope to see you all again soon! Maybe not by August's end, but hopefully by the end of September!
Originally posted August 4, 2020. Word count: 10,665 not including author's notes.
Until next time, Mariyekos
