For all the people who expressed their disgust in previous chapters: I'm really, really sorry, because this one is the grossest so far.
An escape is always tricky; there will always be suspicions over your true motives, there will always be questions over your movements and your activities. With people as nosey as the Grimleal, take care to create plausible reasons for absences and "unexplained" actions. Faking illness is not advised in the cold darkness of their quarters. Instead, seclusion under the excuse of fasting and prayer — especially effective if you claim a trance — are the best methods.
~oOo~
Another year brought their map closer to completion, as Henry now spent many nights as a mouse or a bat crawling through the vast underground complex. They had finished gauging the larders, kitchens, library, arena, and workshops. They were missing places such as the temple and dining hall, which were hard to find unoccupied. Henry's frequent shapeshifting brought him much too close to being stuck in animal form for Robin's liking, so she took him off that duty in spite of his protests. Mustafa would have provided them with more, but he was constantly sent away to keep Grimleal bases from being discovered by Gangrel's forces.
She was to deliver Mustafa's reports to Validar in his study that day, a prospect that made her have to take a moment to collect herself before entering.
"I have the reports that you requested," she said quietly after she was permitted to sit. "And the latest session of dream reading progressed smoothly."
"Excellent work, as always. I will take a moment to review these later...but that is not the only reason I have summoned you, my dear."
Robin bristled. It did not take him long to progress to those kinds of names, did it?
She snapped out of her brief thoughts as another box was slid delicately across the desk to her, this time made out of doom palm. Her heart sank down to her stomach when she saw that another task had been realised, and braced herself as she took the lid off.
It was worse than she had imagined. The very stars twinkled back at her from the handful of cloth she picked up hesitantly. What she recognised as a kalasiris had been painstakingly dyed a deep blue-black, and the entirety of the bust was covered by diamonds and crystals. The collar and shoulders were crowded with the precious stones too, and they were fastened to each other by thin chains of studded platinum with smaller filaments of gems. The long, transparent sleeves hung from the shoulders and had been slashed open to display her arms. The back had been left bare to show off ropes of crystals that hung down, matching the belt that tied the diaphanous outer layer over the inner sheath; the dress winked and glittered all on its own and not by some trick of light, and Robin swore she saw comets fly by on the cloth.
"This one took a bit longer to assemble...and I'm afraid that our stock of diamonds has been slightly...diminished." With a start, she realised that he had drawn his chair close to her — his peevish voice was uncomfortably close to her ear as he presented the earrings and circlet that came with the dress. Its ruffled tone suddenly smoothed out into a low purr that pricked at her skin and made it gooseflesh. "You would look so radiant in this...like the princess you deserve to be." His hands were cold as they fastened a sheer, starry mantle around her shoulders.
When Validar finally stood back, it was to evaluate the entire picture. Robin's smile must have been rather weak, as his scowl returned.
"I do hope you appreciate the effort that went into this...it was not simple to procure the necessary materials. And it seems I must replace quite a number of craftswomen after this…" his dark, brooding face lightened into another easy smile, but the change was enough to keep her nailed to her seat with her heart pounding fast. "Will I not receive thanks for my gift?"
"If the last one was beautiful, then this one is simply stunning," Robin said, sugary sweet; the words tasted metallic in her mouth. "I am so honoured. Thank you," she murmured with a slow bat of her lashes.
"To know that you value it so is reward enough," Validar answered with his chest more puffed up than usual. He sat down beside her again, and, to her horror, slithered his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, as though in confidence. He was moving much too fast for her liking, but she could not afford to let it show. "I know that we have little time until the wedding...though I cannot help but wonder if you feel lacking in some respect. It seems that my council," he practically hissed, "has been withholding their own contributions...under some excuse that they need more time to find appropriate gifts."
Thank the heavens for such a miracle, she wanted to cry. Maybe, just maybe, it would work to put forth another impossible petition - one that would, gods willing, take a century to complete.
"I do not think I should worry much, not when I have your kindness," Robin admonished gently. Sitting there like a stiff board would have ruined her performance, so, with great dread, she turned to him and forced her hand to rest on his chest. Goodness, if that arrogant sneer that crawled over his face was not enough to make her nauseous…"Let them be. I have more than enough. I should not allow myself to be vain and greedy when I have already been given so many fine presents."
"Fine indeed...but they are simply not enough for my bride. Tell me, is there nothing else your heart desires…? Gems? Land? A horse? You were always so fond of them as a child...we have many studs and mares available."
She heaved a long, drawn out sigh and turned her head away delicately, downcast with sadness. "...you will refuse if I ask again."
"Because you know the risks, my sweet...I simply cannot allow it. The desert is crawling with roaches this time of year...and the borders with rats and lice. But you are so gracious in your virtue...perhaps I can make an exception...and it should not be too difficult to find a good replicate for the colour of the sky."
"Oh, I did not mean the sky," she said, a little too quickly, and forced herself back into something more coy, but not too much or it would seem like flattery. "The sun brings death and heat but...I cannot help but admire it so. Its radiance is unmatched, and it reveals everything under its light. I have not seen it for such a long time, and I miss its warmth."
"Are the fires not enough here…? No, perhaps you are right...a mere torch is nothing compared to the sun. But the sun, my dear, is nothing compared to you…" Validar pronounced as he slid a nail down her arm.
~oOo~
When it was so late at night that even Tharja had fallen asleep, Robin and Henry huddled by the crates in the third floor larder with only a few balls of magicked fire to light the space.
"The hole in the dungeons — is it wide enough now?"
"Nope! Someone found it and covered it up. And because they found it, they increased patrols down there, so sorry Robby. It's a no-go now."
She swore under her breath. "Then that only leaves us with the main entrance or the emergency tunnel behind Validar's study."
"Well then why don't we go ahead and just pick the tunnel? Sounds great to me if it's already dug out and everything, getting dirt out from under my nails was hard, ha ha. And didn't ya say that he's got all sorts of really dangerous stuff down there? We can just pick out whatever we want from there before we leave! Like a market trip."
"I don't —" Robin started, then stopped. Henry was right. She should not hinder what was their best chance at an escape just because she was afraid. Being afraid would mean she was nothing but a handicap.
Even so, the very thought of returning to that place made her feel sick.
Three quick raps on the doorframe alerted them to Mustafa's presence, and they shifted to make room for his hulking body. Another bulging package was placed on the crate between them, along with a pair of small silver knives and tiny vials of a purpled substance that bubbled sinisterly.
"Keep these on you at all times. They're easy to hide in clothes, the backs of sandals, inside a cuff or what have you," Mustafa instructed in his deep voice. "There's enough poison for a few uses and it sticks cleanly to the blade without much of a stain to cause suspicion, so use sparingly." He leaned back to check the entrance for possible eavesdroppers, but returned when satisfied there were none. "These maps of the outside are updated versions, so you can discard your old ones. Are you finished packing?"
"We can be now that Robin says we have a way to get some big stuff without people getting all hissy once they see the armoury's missing some gear," Henry replied cheerily.
"Good." Mustafa drew two small and hideously leathery pouches from his belt and passed them on. "These bags are made from mokeskin. They can fit anything inside them and won't weigh at all. Use them for the heavier items, but not food or potions — it's very difficult to organise in there and things tend to get crushed or damaged on the journey. And yes, Henry, I know from experience."
"Thank you." Robin whispered and tucked one into her shirt.
"I cannot stay for long, so please, be cautious when trying to find me. That goes especially for you, Henry." Mustafa sighed and gathered them up into a tight hug. "At this point, I can only pray that the gods are merciful and find it within themselves to grant you success."
~oOo~
With the passage of another year, the furtive whispers of discontent became mutterings. Why should we surrender part of our treasury, they asked, for the frivolous whims of a silly girl? It has been years since the betrothal was announced. She should get on with her given duty, be grateful that she was chosen, not drain our coffers for trifles. But they kept quiet, because to displease Validar meant to be disciplined, and so they went about their daily lives despite their discontent.
It was after a long day of reviewing the apprentices' capabilities on their divining test and of discussing border reports — an Ylissean garrison unit had come dangerously close to discovering them after a foolish guard wandered across the border, and he was swiftly punished — that Robin could finally let her hair down for the night. Tharja had removed her jewellery and brushed rose water into her skin before braiding her white locks. She was currently helping Robin into her nightdress just as they were alerted about a visitor.
"My lord, the hour is very late —" they heard the old nurse begin to protest from beyond the screen. She was cut off, there was some murmuring, and then, "Come, Tharja. We are not needed for the moment." The sorceress scowled bitterly but did as she was told, sparing her mistress a questioning look before leaving.
Robin was very conscious of her state of undress and held her arms over her chest as she received Validar. "I mean no disrespect, but I must ask the reason for the late meeting, and in my bedchambers, no less. Please, I am tired...could we not schedule this for the morning?"
"I'm afraid not, " Validar said, striding to her mattress and bidding her to sit with him, as though it were his. "This is a momentous occasion, my sweet...I simply could not bear keeping this to myself. It has finally been completed...and I wanted you to be the first to know and to witness it in all its glory."
The final box was carved from blonde yew, a wood foreign to Plegia whose purchase was the equivalent of several year's tilling wages. Robin could care less; the fine white grain was more reminiscent of touching a bleached corpse than anything else, and she did not even try to disguise the trembling of her fingers as the lid came off.
"Glorious" was a woefully inadequate word for the ensemble. The inner chainse was a soft cream; the outer robes were tied together by a girdle of molten fire that echoed the magnificent brocade that lined the hem, sleeves, and breast, dazzling bronze and gold that reminded Robin of the shapes that ink mixed with too much water made on paper. The outer sleeves hung over her wrists and were slashed to reveal fitted mamelukes inside. The entire affair was festooned with rubies, spinel, and carnelian, there were so many colours (blood, amber, rust, sand, copper, wheat) that it was dizzying. Most astonishingly of all, it emitted its own light and heat.
It must have cost more than ten lifetimes' worth of fortunes to finance. There was no way that Robin could ever hope to surpass such a work, there was no way she could hope to ask for another after it — her mouth went drier than a desert drought at the realisation.
"Yes?" Validar prompted eagerly. He had been looming over her the entire time and had lost the patience that was present in the previous dresses.
"It's beautiful," Robin choked.
"...and?"
"I...I'm sorry. I have no words to describe this. Truthfully, it feels as though the very breath has been stolen from my throat."
"No, 'tis quite fine to hear...the looms have been groaning and crying for a year, and they have earned their rest...I regret those who have been laid low for it, but they have served their purpose well, and Grima shall reward them for the wondrous cloth that their fingers have spun. Grima is just, yes, but He is also most Glorious...it is only fitting that the one destined to be His Mother should surpass the sun's radiance."
Foul words, bitter words. Robin turned away from Validar as though in deep contemplation of the dress; the reality was her fighting back the wave of bile that surged against the roof of her mouth. To think that it was but a few years ago that he claimed to bring her such news with a heavy heart... and now, he was all too eager for the future he was picturing. She could not show weakness in front of him. Weakness was for victims, and she was no victim.
Right?
A sharp sensation in her consciousness barely alerted her. When Robin turned, it was to see Validar worming closer, and closer, and closer, with his eyes half-open and his mouth —
She turned away abruptly, conscious of the mistake and bracing herself for the worst of it. The tense silence that curdled between them was deceptively short.
"You would deny me, then?" he breathed dangerously soft. "You should learn to be more grateful for all that you have received...should you not?"
How to explain such a blunder? Had she not learnt anything in the few years she realised she needed to be an actress?
"Forgive me," Robin said quietly, immediately apologetic, demure, and yielding, just as Validar liked it. "I...I know nothing of those things — I was frightened. I cannot excuse my ignorance, and I can only ask that you be patient with me. Please, can we not save this for later? I want to enjoy the wedding night."
Please, please, please.
He seemed to be considering her very carefully, though the hardness was still present in his eyes. Then, the creases in his face smoothed out, and she stopped herself from breathing a sob of relief. "Yes...I have been rather hasty. Do not fret; there is nothing to fear from it...it is quite natural, and your own mother was more than aware of her responsibilities." Validar's frown was imperceptible enough to be missed by most. "Your lack of knowledge is concerning. Have you not been instructed in such things?"
"I was told such things are sinful for the unwed."
"...Indeed they are." Did he sound the least bit irritated by that admission? Robin did not want to spend any more time speculating on the meaning of whatever body language he exhibited rather than simply wishing for him to leave immediately. "Forgive me for my impatience, pet...but, you are right, clever girl. And besides...I trust there will be more than enough time afterwards to learn together."
Oh gods.
"But I must go now, for the hour is late...and I can always return to you once our schedules are more permitting."
"Yes milord." Robin bowed her head deferentially.
Validar's long fingers slithered up to her shoulder and then to her neck, pushing her into his chest and cradling the back of her head. She was so repulsed, she wanted to throw him off and run into the desert forever and never look back, but she reciprocated by tentatively holding onto his shoulder.
"However, when I ask something of you, it is in poor taste to refuse me. I am your lord. Remember that."
How long ago was it that he had expressed such discomfort over what was transpiring, even referring to it as a "necessary evil?" And now, to be hinting that he expected more than just an embrace on their next meeting? The thought kept running over and over in her head as she emptied her stomach into a small chamberpot long after her maids had fallen asleep. The acidic stench of vomit was enough to to distract her, at least. She did not jump when she felt the bony hands pull her hair away from her face and begin to braid it neatly.
"What did he do this time?" Henry whispered.
"I don't want to tell you," Robin muttered, bitter and sad.
Thoughts of their plan, of finally running away and securing their freedom far from the suffocating darkness of the crypt they lived in, away from cruel eyes watching them from within the walls; away from the legacy of blood and pain they expected her to uphold and the future of death and destruction they wanted her to create, kept her sane. Henry was younger but had experienced as much hardship, and as such was a useful reference for learning how to pretend. From their time together, Robin could tell he hid as much hurt as she did, but the fact remained that even he found it difficult to reveal his true self to her. Still, they found solace in each other, bided their time, and learned: for really, wasn't acting nothing but choosing what to hide and what to show?
But this twisted chess game of being on constant lookout, and being afraid of the right way to smile and the right way to make insinuations drained her. It was something that she could not fly away from even in her sleep.
Robin was dreaming of the bird and the snake again when the terrain melted abruptly into an even darker realm. A deep, sinister mist curled around her and breathed horrid things into her ears.
You're a liar, the Voices said. You don't really want to leave this place. It's all you've ever known...what would such a weak little thing be able to do out in such a big world? You're only human, and you only have two legs to try and cross it.
"I'm not a liar," Robin gasped on the acrid mist. "I've been outside. The world has the sun, it has light and warmth and rivers and forests and so much more to see and do than this place. I could never wish this even on people I hate."
Oh please, They snapped. You're not that kind...you're just a nasty, stinking bag of flesh, bones and blood like any other person, and you'll die like any other person too. But then the Voices spun sweeter words, words laced with as much honey as venom, and the thick fog suddenly rose to tie itself tightly around her neck and limbs. But when you do die, it will be in service of anything mightier than the average mortal could ever hope to achieve. Not many could say they birthed a god, They purred.
"No — no, please, I don't want to," Robin whimpered. Mist was supposed to be incorporeal, and yet the thing that kept her frozen in place had as much strength as though she had been locked into iron stocks.
It is not a question of what you want, but what you are destined to do. Why do you insist on fighting against a purpose that is greater than your insignificant desires?
"I don't want it — what we're doing is wrong, there's nothing about this world that deserves its death, there's so much good to be saved. And Validar — Validar is my father, this is a union that should have never been legitimised in the first place."
Sacrifices must be made for the greater good...you of all people should know this. Why struggle against a fate you have been destined for? What is there but futility when accusing the author after the ink has dried on the page? The future is set...its course shall never change…
Robin began to struggle and writhe in terror as more ropes of mist squeezed up around her stomach, her calves, her arms; her mouth was wrenched open and she choked on the vapours — or were they Validar's spidery fingers? She could not tell — that forced their way in, reeking of blood, decay and vomit. Tears stung her eyes and nose, but her fighting was in vain. Her windpipe felt as though it was being crushed under the immense pressure.
Destiny is and will forever be your master, one way or the other!
The dream changed, but it was no less horrifying: she was a child again, scared, in tears, trying to stifle hiccups and sobs as she watched unfamiliar feet tread before her from under the settee, but they had slender, angry dogs who sussed her out and pulled her from her hiding place. This must be it, their voices were quiet but still rough and hard, like the hold their hands had on her scalp when they pulled her up by her hair. This must be the one Gangrel told us to find — yes, don't you see, it's got that beastly Mark on its hand, the Fell Brand, it's as clear as day. Kill it, kill it before they can try to fulfill that prophecy of theirs. Kill it so we can save the world from the Grimleal scum.
And then they were out of the sanctum, in a world so vast that her imagination had barely scratched its surface, but Robin was in no position to marvel at the first time she saw the desert, not when she was being jostled over the back of the horse they had thrown her over. Then there were the shouts — shit! I thought you said you took care of the guards and those servants! I did! There's no way they could have known about this, we came out through that tunnel! So she was thrown to the sand and a dagger pressed to her neck as a pair of dark, crazed eyes stared squarely down at her own and said "No hard feelings, kid. Just following orders."
The fire that erupted from her shoulder down to her hip was intense. Its burning seared her skin, there was nothing else on her mind except the sheer terror at being cut open and how to escape it. Robin's attacker died instantly when an arrow plunged into his back. She scrambled away immediately, having no idea of where to go other than anywhere that was far from the skirmish. But a dog saw her, a dog saw her master killed and seized Robin's wrist and sent them plummeting down the face of a dune, and when they reached the bottom it tore into her savagely. A Grimleal soldier had followed them and snatched the dog by the scruff of her neck and stabbed the animal repeatedly. Robin flinched at the dog's screams and yelps and recoiled when its hot blood spattered her face, there was so much pain and violence and gore strewn about the sand that her mind blanked out.
"Mother! Mother, oh mother, please, help me! Mother, HELP ME!"
When she she woke, Robin was still thrashing around on the bed, and sweat was pouring down her skin and soaking her mattress. The maids had tried to hold her still, but there was only so much they could do, not when she had started screaming for her mother in her sleep. Robin could only gasp uselessly and stare at the ceiling with glazed eyes as the crushing weight of her nightmares refused to budge from her chest.
"Fetch milord at once!" the old nurse ordered.
Validar appeared in a swirl of dark robes and settled onto the bed gracefully. "Leave us," he commanded. When they were alone except for Robin's harsh breathing and the flickering of the torch that had been lit, Validar pulled her up into a seated position and rearranged the pillows to accommodate her. "What did you dream?"
She considered the situation, weak, bleary, on the edge of defeat. What was there to say? That she relived one of the worst moments of her life? That she had been told that she could not fight against a fate of her having to wed her own father, be bedded by him, and conceive and birth a monster? Really, what was there to say?
Was now the time to just...give up?
No, was the sudden thought. Never. You're so close Robin, you're so close! Strategy Robin, it's what you're good at. How can you turn this around in your favour? You've strung him along this far, what else have you got?
Henry's fakest smile suddenly came to mind. She remembered the first time she was able to tell them apart, and how he confessed that "Every good performance is based on a kernel of truth."
Yes, she did have something to go by.
"I dreamt of the men and the dogs again...oh, it was so horrible…" Robin squeezed out a few more tears while trying to compose herself. Validar kept his dark eyes trained on her face attentively.
"Your maids have told me that you called for your mother in your sleep. I was not aware that you had any memory of her."
"Did I?" she sniffled and dropped her head back onto a cushion as though drained. "Oh, I wish I could remember more, but all I can think of is the sand and all that blood."
Suspicion still coloured his face, but thankfully, Validar dropped that line of inquiry. "It has been years since that...incident. And Mustafa has done more than enough to harden your body and teach you the ways of the sword...to still harbour such fear after all this time, and all for what should have been a matter of inconsequence by now...I am concerned."
"You do not understand," Robin explained tiredly; he bristled at the implication of ignorance. "It was not just a dream...I — I fear it was premonition. To remember that of all things so close to the wedding, and when Gangrel keeps stirring up trouble for us...those are ill tidings."
"Aversa is competent enough to keep that dog on his leash."
"Aversa is trying to play a game of charades by pretending she has no ties whatsoever to us and cannot keep herself from being exposed if Gangrel wises up and wonders why she suddenly wants to stop his incursions. She has barely spent three years there, I am still impressed that she managed to seduce him into marrying her. Let her make her move once she is made queen."
That's right...I'm the tactician here. I do have something to go on, even if it might only be grasping at straws.
Validar was tense. He stewed in unease while Robin reposed, her brain working in a thousand different directions. She had forced him to listen and be quiet. The unfortunate part was that to assuage his impending anger meant more ego stroking on her part.
"You are more than safe here, my pet." She repressed a shudder when those long, terrible fingers of his enclosed her hands in a bony, cold cage. Those fingers were of a man who pored through blood-stained tomes and directed from a dais, not one who comforted at a bedside and who knew how to hold others. "Our men are among the strongest of the continent, and the skull is well guarded...Gangrel is but a gadfly who shall be squashed in due time. What is there to fear?"
"Everything." Closing her eyes helped with avoiding his own, helped with her performance and helped to mask the pain. "You are still as human as he, you cannot stop the wheel of fate from taking its course down the path it decrees. And if it is Gangrel's destiny to capture me successfully this time, what will you do?"
Robin felt more than a little sick to see how easily her words stung him. It hurt to have her fingers trapped within the vise his own made. "Such a thing shall never come to pass."
"How do you know?" she pressed, willing herself to face Validar. "I have not yet had the time to read my dream fully, but what I saw was enough to frighten me. Gangrel's had years to strengthen his soldiers, to stock his armoury and cook up new magicks with his mages; to bide his time and learn more of us and how to enter the sanctum before planning a final strike. If not soldiers, then sorcerers who can outwit our own. If not humans, then dogs who can scent me and drag me out like a rabbit from its hutch, or wyverns impervious to sword and spell...and if not beasts, then perhaps the Risen folk you have told me of."
"They will never succeed, not while my body draws breath!" Validar growled.
"Then prove it to me," Robin breathed. She placed her hand on his shoulder — he had taken the bait wonderfully and now was the time to reel in the catch. "Prove that my premonition shall not come to pass. Prove to me that you can protect me."
No matter how hard she tried to convince herself, Validar's proximity was always an unwelcome sensation. His pupils were blown wide and dark, his lips thinned out tightly. Was there something about her presenting vulnerability that attracted him? The thought was beyond unpleasant. Robin's breath hitched when Validar pressed his face into the crook of her neck, trapping her in her bed as his impossibly long arm travelled up and under her side in a cold embrace.
"You are my greatest treasure," Validar's breath was moist against her ear. His long nails pricked her chin, needle-sharp. "I would never give you up to someone as loathsome as Gangrel. Let him come...let him come with his dogs and his men...and I will remind him why no one returned the last time."
The depressingly familiar feeling of bile pushing up against Robin's throat resurfaced when he pressed his lips to her cheek: much too hard, much too wet, much too close to her mouth for her liking. To her horror, she felt Validar thumb at the collar of her nightdress and then loosen a sleeve.
He (miraculously!) pulled away quickly. She sighed in relief, not wanting to think about how she looked, with her salt burned eyes and her shoulder bared to him. The soft sound was pleasing to Validar, and he reached out to drag a nail from her brow to her lower lip.
"What a little minx you are...to be speaking of such serious matters, and yet look so tempting with naught but a sigh." His laugh was low and foreboding as he finally left her bedside. "Fear not. I am a man of my word, and I shall...attempt to keep my hands to myself until the wedding. I am sure it will be more than pleasurable to the both of us...and with you by my side, Grima shall rise to His full glory once more."
Robin never slept again for the entirety of that night.
~oOo~
Another delay in Validar's schedule (Robin did not know why) saw their maps finished, the guards' rounds memorised down to who yawned at what hour, and the wedding looming close at the end of the following year's summer. Robin, Mustafa, and Henry made a final bag check:
Changes of clothes, including sturdy pairs of boots and sandals, shirts, trousers, capes, gloves; leather armour reinforced by strips of linseed cloth and bronze plates; their maps of the skull, of the continent, of the stars they would need to follow; potions, salves and bandages hastily nicked from the sick ward lest their absence would arouse suspicion.
Other items such perishable foods, rarer weapons, and medicines would have to be secured on the day of their escape. Robin lovingly tucked in her mother's parcels in her satchel. After a moment's hesitation, the dresses and their accessories, still in their death-white boxes, were packed in too — they could be used to barter for food in a pinch — and the bulging packs were carefully hidden behind the flour bags in the third floor larder.
"Henry and I are not to be allowed by your side in the coming week," Mustafa warned. "You are a capable woman, Robin, but I cannot help but fear."
"I know. Frankly, I'm terrified," Robin replied.
"Lucky you, to have me then! I'm not afraid of anything," Henry laughed, and the others could not help but smile at the warmth his usual cheer brought. "You two can hold my hands whenever you feel scared. But if your hands get sweaty, wipe 'em off first 'cause that's just gross."
"Henry...you like to play with dead body parts and bones...and you think that sweaty hands are a problem?"
"Robby, you know I always appreciate your honesty, but sweat's either hot and gross or clammy and gross. There's no inbetween, I tell you! And I don't have to worry about a perfectly preserved specimen getting grossness all over my clothes."
"Corpses leak blood and putrefaction," she deadpanned.
"When you two are done," Mustafa harrumphed, "leave separately. Make sure that the halls are empty before you proceed."
"...Right." With their bubble of lightheartedness having been popped, Robin was the first to exit the larder, leaving her friends and their brief moment of respite behind as she returned to her quarters and feeling of heightened dread.
After another night of half sleep, she rose early for her morning ablutions and her first temple visit of the day. Usually, she was the first to arrive, as her absence would have raised questions, and those precious moments of true solitude were soothing. To her dismay, Validar was waiting.
Robin acknowledged him briefly before lighting her offering of frankincense and kneeling before Grima's mask as though in prayer. Not once did he say a thing throughout. Just when she thought her heart would burst, a dark, gloomy bale of mist materialised in his outstretched arms.
"Open it," Validar commanded.
The pitch black ribbon holding it together fell apart as soon as she touched it. As though some deranged chemist's idea of a liquid, the vapours flowed down and solidified into something syrupy thick and slow, morphing into a sombre robe once the hem touched the floor.
The hairs on the back of Robin's neck bristled in alarm. There was some serious dark magic at work in the garment. Shadows had been knitted together to make it, shadows...and other components she was not sure she wanted to learn about.
To appear interested, she took it from Validar's hands and studied it further. The robe was a handsome deep purple, almost black: in fact, several shades of the colour were present, from the medium lilac stripes running up the lapels, to the rich wine of the interior and the inner hood. Silky thick grape threading binded the sleeves to the body. A great deal of gold was used for it, with an almost absurd amount being for its cuffs; appliquéd in triangular designs along the hem; making up the buttons and braided aiguillettes used to close it; lining the hem, the sleeves, the hood, the lapels in a continuous shining cord.
Grima's six eyes looked menacingly at her from where three had been woven into each sleeve in the same lilac as the lapels. Horror iced her bones when, for a split second, they seemed to blink teasingly at her.
"What are you thoughts?"
Broken out of her reverie, Robin schooled her face into something more acceptable. "I am sorry...what was that?"
"I said...what are you thoughts? On the robe?" Validar gestured magnanimously, but there was a current of menace in the line of his arms that he did not hide.
"Magnificent," she said without skipping a beat. "I must ask — is this another gift? I enjoy your presents, and I know the wedding is soon, but I cannot help but feel a bit spoilt with all this attention."
"You deserve this and more, my treasure...yes, it can be displayed as part of your dowry, but its importance lies with your safety."
"...is it spelled, then? To protect me?"
"Yes. When you had that dream, I was understandably worried...for you to feel unsafe within my domain is never permissible. Despite our layers of defense...you can forgive me for worrying when you mentioned the possibility of Gangrel preparing himself after his last attempt failed. It is not a suit of armour, you see, but what my women have crafted has...other talents."
Robin was silent, prompting him Validar for an explanation. He moved to her side, pressed himself to her shoulder and hip. His outstretched hand fingered the sleeve fondly, close to where she was holding the robe up.
"I had a few prototypes made during the war...regrettably, I never had the opportunity to test them for my intelligence units...until now." His arm looped under hers to point out the different details of the outfit. Their skin brushed together far too many times, though she tried to distract herself with how prettily the gold shone in the low light, how soft the hood felt. "The weavers spun the cloth from many different sources...but I am most proud of the leather it was combined with. For you see, the hides of a thousand different beasts went into its production...I would like to see any dog try and find you when it cannot even distinguish the scent it needs to follow."
She offered him a weak smile and returned her eyes to the robe quickly. For a thousand animals to have been slaughtered and used for sorcery of this kind was cruelty. No matter how seamlessly each patch of skin had been joined into one smooth bolt, the very thought was agonising.
Validar's nose poked Robin's ear. If that was not enough to send a shiver down her back...
"For each pelt, a spell was woven into it to reinforce it. Unfortunately, enough time was lost on your pretty dresses, so testing had to be cut short...so while it might not stand against swords and axes, it can stop petty daggers well enough."
His thumb was rubbing slow circles onto hers now.
"Only the highest of magicks were employed for your benefit. It has cost me quite a few elders, unfortunately...but they understood the dangers well enough. Low level tomes will not even scratch this."
Oh gods, where did his other hand go?
"As this is to keep you safe...to keep Grima's vessel intact...it was only fitting to imbue it with fragments of His power as well. No less than a thousand of Grima's feathers live within this robe, taken from the single pair of wings our ancestors could preserve. No matter how much filth it encounters, no matter how burned or destroyed it might be on the battlefield...it will always repair itself, and no impurities shall sully its surface."
It was on her back, and it was crawling down.
"Once you put it on...it will bind itself to you forever."
Spinning out of his grip, Robin prostrated herself on the floor before Validar as though in gratitude. She pressed her face to the floor as tears trickled hotly down her face, burning her skin with tracks of humiliation and despair.
"Oh, thank you!" She sobbed, wanting nothing more that to fly away and leave her body behind. "T-this is truly more than anything I could ever hope for — you have been so busy, so preoccupied with everything, and yet you still make the time to think of me and m-my needs. What have I ever done to warrant this kindness?"
Deep black fabric bunched against her head in a pool of cool silk as Validar kneeled and collected her in his arms, pulling her up and resting her against his chest and stroking her dishevelled white hair. How she hated this performance.
Henry would be impressed.
"Your issue, my dove, is that you are not forgiving of yourself," he crooned."You work tirelessly, thanklessly, to the bone...and yet the thought of your just reward is somehow inconceivable to you." He pulled back, smiling magnanimously, wiped her tears with the corner of his cape. "You deserve this. This is more than your birthright...it is your destiny. So take it, my sweet, take it and revel in its glory...once you bring Grima back into this world, you shall be worshipped as you should. Grima is just."
~oOo~
Another nightmare woke her in a cold sweat. Washing herself with the water the marble basin provided to her offered little comfort; it did not dull the steely bite of the words those horrid Voices taunted her with in her dream.
Selfish girl, spoilt girl, They mocked. You squander gifts most would kill to have. Admit it...you know you are the true heir, you possess Grima's Heart for a reason. You are destined for better than being the cowed little broodmare Validar wishes you to be. You have the skill, you have the tools...his room is not too far away...you can save yourself. Their words were little snakes slithering wetly on her skin. Kill him in his bed before he can fuck you in it. Kill him before he plants his seed in you and you are forced to grow it.
"I don't want to kill anyone," she cried and curled into a pathetic little ball on the floor. They were too insistent, prodding Their snake tongues into her ears. "I don't want more bloodshed. Just...leave me alone!"
Yes you can. Once you kill him, you can take your rightful place on the throne he seized from you. You are Grima...it is your fate as the breath of ruin that will sweep over the land. The Grimleal belong to you, they will worship you as you should be worshipped. They melted into her, They were not snakes anymore, but a thousand flies that crawled over her and each other. Robin was suddenly naked, completely exposed to their bites, feeling them inside her ears and probing her mouth and her nose. She could not swat them all!
"No! I'm not Grima to them, not anymore, they'd just as soon as flog me for trying to say that! I don't want to be Grima! I just want to get away from here!"
If you cared so much, you little hypocrite, then why did you not try to leave sooner? The Voices were no longer oily smooth, but demonic, red-hot, echoing with pure evil. Why stand around idly all these years doing nothing? At least your mother had the courage to try. It's a pity that she birthed such a stupid, spineless twat.
Fire ants streamed out from everywhere and formed ropes of stinging fury, trapping her and raining hellish bites everywhere they could reach. Robin wanted to scream, but as soon as she opened her mouth her tongue and cheeks were under assault.
Mustafa gave you a poisoned knife. Use it. Do you not trust Mustafa? Do you not love him? The ants were mercifully gone, and there was silence again. Robin, in fact, could not say a thing. A roiling mass of mist that was barely in the shape of a man had her pinned to the floor and covered her mouth with an inky hand. Where a face should be, there was nothingness.
Noam is gone because you did not love him enough to protect him...your mother suffered the same fate. If you do not do anything, Mustafa and Henry will be next. So...what's your next move, tactician? A bone white grin suddenly materialised on the face, square teeth large and gleeful as the mist transformed into Validar, just as naked as Robin was, reaching a hand between her legs.
~oOo~
Two days before the wedding, Robin read a letter she had taken out of her satchel. She knew that the faded parchment was not a substitute for the mother she never knew. Even so, it was a small pocket of warmth against her impending doom.
If you can, avoid dwellings of any kind. I fear that the Grimleal's power has grown too much; they have expanded almost all over Plegia despite king Morza's best efforts. Anyone from a simple beggar to a powerful amir could turn you in. They have eyes and ears in places you could not imagine.
Cover your tracks. No trace of you should be found. And don't risk trying to set up traps: that's how Meroë was captured, that's how they could trace a path to her. Have a fast horse or a camel at the ready. A wyvern or a pegasus would be the best choice, if you can get a hold of one.
It hurts me so much to think of how you will grow in such a place. I was young and foolish once. I thought I was working in the service of this glorious higher power and could be something better than a goatherd's child. I wasn't born into the Grimleal like everyone else, and my war record meant nothing to them unless I proved myself further. I did horrible things…
When Robert was hired as my guard, it was the first time I ever talked to an Ylissean. I'm sure they'll feed you nasty things about them as you age. Grima appealed to him, and the fact that an Ylissean wanted to convert was so tasty, so delightful...until he got his first look at a sacrifice, then he got cold feet, and cried about returning to Naga's church. And I laughed in his face, and I taunted him, I reminded him of what his bishops and his exalt preached about Plegians during the war. Even though what I said was true, it was not kind.
When we started to love another, we decided to run away together. No more gods to march us into battle or dictate our lives. We could be free to do as we pleased. Such a novel concept for poor folk like us! There was a sentence that was scratched out and illegible after this.
And then I fell pregnant. Forgive me for being disappointed when I learned who your father is; we love you regardless, but the thought of him having anything to do with you is, truthfully, repulsive. But we can forget that, love. We had everything ready to whisk you away and have you safe and sound. We have a little cottage in Regna Ferox, near the eastern border with Ylisse. It belongs to friends of Robert's parents. We could have raised sheep and goats like my family does. You would have grown very fast on the good food and the fresh mountain air — Robert says the sea is close by there, so we could have taken you swimming. Wouldn't that have been so lovely?
My love, my little bird, I'm so sorry. I've doomed us all with my failure. I was not able to protect you. The only thing I have left to offer you is my love and my fantasies — as I write this, I am imprisoned in the hellhole I used to call home. I was unable to give you the future that you deserve.
I hope, with all my heart, that you are able to succeed where I have not. Godspeed, my love. Fly far where you can make your own destiny.
To take our minds of the incest, let's just say it was a lot of fun researching period fashions to imagine what Robin's dresses would look like. Especially for the sun dress, I thought a lot about kaftans, takchitas (which are a Moroccan type of dress, usually embroidered), and Mesopotamian clothes. It's important to note that because the Grimleal are a cult, they are also characterised by the requisite social isolation that comes with that kind of baggage, so fashion-wise, they're at least a couple of centuries behind the rest of Plegia: the Grimleal in this AU take their fashion cues from Ancient Egypt and Mesopotamia, while Plegia's clothing is more based off of Medieval Arab and North African fashions. Sites like were very helpful for the research part, especially because of the wonderful colour plates they have.
This chapter was supposed to be posted last Friday, but I'm in finals week. Hopefully I'll be free on the weekend to post chapter 6!