Heart of Man

That morning, the Shepherds woke up to a thick fog. It was to be expected though given their location, and the preparations were made in advance. Fliers on their patrol could not see very far in the white haze, but maps were maps for a reason. The Shepherds were between the western coast of the Valmese continent and the River Mila, the very same that fed water to the home of the former Divine Dragon.

'Follow the river,' advised the tactician, 'And we'll find ourselves on Walhart's doorstep in a matter of days.'

It didn't help that Xander was gone though. One man in an group of many was hard to notice, but it was noticed nonetheless.


Through the fog they trudged, marching and riding through the woods with little to no visibility. Even the fliers above would have been lost a couple times, were it not for the lazy circles that the mages drew above to signal them back.

"I can't see a thing. Are we just going to blindly march forward until chance happens upon us?" Morgan wondered, already knowing the answer.

"We know the lay of the land. We know a lot of things about the locale." Grima reassured, his pace slow and relaxed despite the lack of visibility. "The river is not so serpentine as most. It's a straight line through the dips and hills. That old Rigellian castle won't move, and neither will the river. We're just hiking in the woods, Morgan. Walking straight lines through the woods."

"These aren't our woods."

A small laugh, more like an exhale, really.

"Of course not... So, what do you think will do us in first? Bandits? Or a Valmese ambush?"

Morgan scoffed at Grima's pessimism.

"With your luck, both."

Grima chuckled, a small dry disturbing sound but a chuckle nonetheless. He sniffed the air casually, flailing his arms about to rest on his neck.

"Morgan, do you know why brigands, scoundrels and pirates love the sea?" the tactician asked whimsically.

The younger girl took a while to come up with an answer, her steps matching the doppelganger of her father just feet away.

"Trade routes are all connected by the ocean. Once the thieves get their loot, they can make an easy exit to the open seas, make port somewhere else and trade in their cargo. Rinse and repeat."

Grima smiled, nodding his head slowly.

"Close."

"Close?"

"You're not wrong at all, dearest daughter. I'm glad you at least understand enemy motive. But that's not the answer I was going for at all."

"What other reason could there be? You can't trade-"

"Ruffians love the salty air, the deep sea breeze, all because it masks the fact that they always smell like shit."

"Huh-"

Whish

In between Grima's right hand fingers rested an arrow, broadhead poking through the outer of his palm, drawing blood.

It wasn't there a second ago.

"Ouch. And to think that was going for your head."

Morgan flinched as Grima suddenly drew his sword and tome, alerting the nearby Shepherds with his seemingly random motions. Once they saw the arrow broken at his feet, it didn't seem so odd.

"To arms Shepherds! The enemy has decided to come to us!"

Morgan quickly followed suit, her senses kicking in.

Foot steps. A lot of them. They weren't on horses, but they were fast.

"We walked right into their trap," she realized. "You walked us into a trap."

"Nonsense," Grima reassured. "They were in my way and I didn't want to go around."

"You knew they were here?"

"Like I said," Grima nodded, sniffing deeply. "They smell like shit."

"...Of course you smelled them. Did you hear them too?" she muttered, not hiding her sarcasm.


There were nearly eighty bandits in total. A whole operation of sorts, Grima observed.

Smuggling who knows what?

About forty were still alive. What was left of the others was soon to be decomposing into the dirt and mud, squashed like spoiled fruit by the Shepherd's wagons.

"Quite the hefty group you have there," Grima started, resting his sword on the flat of his shoulders casually, as if on a stockade. "I would say healthy, but that's obviously in lack of a better term."

There was no answer from the bandit chief.

"Now as it stands, I have two choices. Three actually, but the third isn't even an option given what you are. See, I could let you go, free to run amok and spread your disease all over this godforsaken continent."

"Or you kill us?" the leader replied, finally coming to terms with the situation.

A lightning bolt flew through the crowd of tied bandits, singing the hairs of any in its path.

"Or, I kill you. Don't interrupt me again."

Chrom took a double take at Robin. Sure, he was an odd interrogator, but that was a bit uncalled for from the usually honorable tactician.

"And what's our third option?" a nameless thief asked. He was on the younger side of things, most likely orphaned into the group and not knowing a life outside of crime.

"I let bygones be bygones. Even let some of you join up with us to help Valm. But that's not happening. Not with the cargo you filth are smuggling."

With a wave, Grima signaled Morgan and Kana, who pulled back branches and an awning of leaves to reveal...

"Children. Of all the things you wastes of life could have had in those cages, you put the one object that would have me put you down like a lame animal. Children."

Chrom gulped. Childhood wasn't a very good topic to discuss with Robin. Mainly due to the fact that the tactician never knew his.

"Now I understand taking things we need. Weapons. Or food. Everyone's gotta eat. Hell, even animals, I guess. Or treasure. But, but, but my friends...You have stepped into the shit. Children!?"

Another lightning bolt flew through the crowd, this time even closer to its intended mark. A few bandits inched away with a yelp, their arms or heads singed.

"Robin! Calm down!"

Chrom.

"Calm down?" Grima roared back, noticing Lucina rising to help her father.

"If we're going to kill them, let's kill them and be done with it. We are wasting time here. I don't understand your angle but to see you worked up like this-"

"So. Just a quick merciful death then? A fair punishment for an unfair crime? I don't think so."

"Father, let's go," Lucina urged, taking Chrom by the arm and leading him aside.

"Now wait here," Grima called out. "Now I understand you Chrom, but Lucina. I'm disappointed. Shouldn't you be one of those who are 'worked up?'"

The princess stopped.

"Robin, I understand things are not going the way you want. But please don't take it out on me-"

"Oh no, Hero Princess. I will take it out on you. You of all people should know how precious a child's life is. You had yours taken away! And here you are, acting all noble and abandoning of your humanity!"

"That's enough, Robin. I won't stand to have you this consumed by-"

"Lucina, did you know that I never knew my mother? Nor my father?"

A small lie. Validar has no right to be sharing of my power.

"I know, Robin."

"Now I've done some digging around. Turns out I was kidnapped."

By my mother. Thank you, brave woman.

"Now like I said," Robin announced, turning around slowly. "We have two choices. Either you die as cowards and scum, or you die now, by the sword."


"Robin, stop this! This is not right!" Chrom chased after the maddened tactician, wildly eyeing every Shepherd that obeyed their commander's strange order.

"Of course not. If it was, would I be wasting my time dealing with rabble in this way?" With a wave, the tactician shooed the Exalt off, a courtesy more than an actual dismissal.

The arena was to be 20 by 20 feet, guarded on the exterior by the Shepherds.

Inhabited on the inside by two prisoners, soon to be one. Then two, then one. Until one remained. Then zero.

"I can't just execute them like a common thug, no, no..." Robin started, twirling his sword around with dangerous poise. "That's too kind of me."

"Kind? Robin, when have you ever considered the taking of life to be kind?"

"The moment it came upon me that life isn't deserved by some!"

"What would Kana think? Morgan!"

A sudden turn now.

"Do you know what they would think if they were locked in a crate, sailing away from home? Do you know what they would beg for, if the only thing between them and their family was all the water in Valentia?"

"..."

"Help, I can imagine. Help. Well, Chrom, I can't help them anymore. I can free them, even return them. But they'll be scarred. I'm here to do one thing and one thing only. Avenge them."

"What are you trying to prove here Robin? This has never bothered you in the past! You've never had to take this out-"

"Let me do this, Chrom. Humanity is a gift that I have watched been squandered over and over again. You wouldn't know how much that bothers me."

"...Will it bring you peace?"

"We'll see."


"How quickly 'friends' turn on each other when life and death are the only choices," Robin mused, sitting atop a fake throne as another body was hauled away. He didn't bother to hide his amusement. The Shepherds on the other hand were growing more and more uneasy with the unusual, no... insane tactician barking out orders.

There were some loyal ruffians, of course. Loyalty to their fallen ideals. They wouldn't pick up the sword offered to them. They wouldn't turn a blade towards their brother.

They died with wide eyes, to the sound of betrayal. Bleeding onto the dirt with such a shocked look on their face.

By the time the line diminished to the single digits, so too had the Shepherds. Only a few were left. Not like it was necessary for them to stay. The prisoners were growing desperate. The agonizing wait in line only to have their bonds cut and a sword placed firmly into their hand. It was night soon. But they knew they weren't going to run away. This wasn't something a man could flee.

There was one, Grima recalled, who had slain 8 of his own before finally meeting his end. Impressive, that man could harbor that much ferocity.

They will take up the mantle of power naturally, when the time comes that we leave this wretched existance.

Soon, Naga, we will be free of this forsaken duty.

"Hold. How many are left?" Grima called, eyeing too many corpses to bother.

"T-two," Owain answered, trembling visibly.

"Good. Let's continue."

Screams now. Who knew that evil men could make such cowardly sounds?

Eyeing the ring, two young men faced each other, neither daring to raise his blade.

"I see you two are close. Only one of you is getting out of this though. Who will be the more chivalrous?"

"They are brothers," Chrom sighed, turning away. "Robin, they're just boys. Not even grown men. Let them go. They've seen enough. They've done enough."

"Not yet," Robin waved, entering the ring himself. "Are you two going to stand there or will I need to expedite the process?"

Flickers of lightning accompanied that statement.

"If you wanted us to live you would've let us go already!" one of the youths howled, charging wildly at Robin with the dull sword given. Catching his wrist deftly, Robin flipped the tired bandit onto his back, disarming him in the process. Picking up the bloodied piece of iron, he walked over the other boy.

"Here. Have two swords. Will I let you go?"

Terror. What a pathetic lack of will.

"N-no. You mean to kill all of us. Until one is left."

Energy arced from Robin's sword into the boys chest, killing him instantly. The young man fell to the mud, convulsing on his knees before finally faceplanting into the slog.

"Never assume what I will do," the dragon stated calmly, prying the swords from the still clenching hands of the corpse.

"He was right, though."

Eyeing the well-worn blades, Robin eyed the other boy warily, dropping the swords at his feet.

"You are free to go."

The boy's charge was admirable. It embodied fury, rage, and everything passionate that man was capable of.

Grima let the blow hit. The blade sank into his gut, accompanied by a writhing twist.

"R-robin!"

"It's quite all right, Chrom," Grima replied, turning around even with a fist halfway into his intestines. "Let him have his moment."

Slowly, the tactician gripped the terrified boy's elbow with his hand, crouching slightly and bringing the face of his enemy inches from his own. The boy was panting, but air wasn't the only thing escaping his terrified lips.

The extinguishing of hope. I used to crave that sensation as a dragon. Why does it feel so satisfying as a human?

"What do you feel, boy? Do you feel... satisfied?"

"I-I stabbed you! I s-stabbed you! Why aren't you dying?!"

With a swift kick to the chest, Grima spaced away from the smuggler, keeping the superfluous sword in his gut as it were a souvenir.

"Do you know why I'm letting you live?" he asked, dark blood dripping all around his boots.

"Shut up! Die!"

Another sidestepped followed by a boot.

"There is a tale where I'm from. There lives a raven who only hunts for chicks and fledglings leaving the nest. But he always leaves one alive. Do you recall this tale?"

"Grr..."

"He follows the little bird back to his mama's nest, and gobbles them both up in the night. He did this for a while, until one day, a fledgling stood his ground instead of fleeing back to safety. Safe to say, he died. Do you catch my drift?"

Another slash. This time to his leg. Grima let it sting not out of ineptitude, but out of pity.

"You're not going to run home, are you?" Grima goaded. "You're going to fight me. And you are going to fight to the death."

Robin pulled out the sword from his stomach, revealing a not so bloody abdomen.

"You're going to work for it, nonetheless."

An instant later, the boy's head fell a few feet away, Robin's hand still firmly gripping the emancipated shoulders before letting gravity take its course.

"Mages, burn the bodies. We camp here tonight. Face away from the wind. I've smelled enough bandit for today."


"I hope you weren't having too much fun with that," Azura hoped. Robin lay on his bed, hands on his bloodied stomach in relative peace.

"I find no pleasure in murder. But I did what Robin would have done, if he hadn't a fair and just mind. It's what all men would have done, knowing that they did right."

"I see no point in wrapping this," the songstress mused, leaving the bandage at her table while Robin donned his robe. "It would be a waste of cloth. Once you go inton the river, no one will even notice."

"You looked worried."

"I did. But now I can stab you all I want and neither of us will be the worse for it."

"Did anyone ever mention you have a wonderful sense of humor?"

"Don't tell me you're getting along with me. You know, once upon a time, my ancestors once laughed with your kin?"

"Ah, Anankos. I never met him in person, actually. I'm a younger dragon from what Naga tells me. One of the youngest. I didn't know what she actually meant by that."

"I was under the assumption that dragons did not age."

"Anankos is older than me by a lot. Analyze that how you will."

"You really mean to kill him?"

"Is that a problem, Lady Azura?"

"I... My mother thought deeply of him. I would like to know why."

"Dragons are fickle beings. But if your mother was anything like you, I can imagine they would have gotten along."

"That's not what I meant."

"Oh, it's not?"

"Perhaps."

"..."

"..."

"The river is close by. Now come then. Xander's not going to be waiting for us."

"Us?"

"What, you don't want to come with me?"

"I haven't stepped in Nohr for my entire life, now. I don't think it would be wise to just abandon the Shepherds."

"They aren't my Shepherds," Grima reassured, taking Azura's hand gingerly. The songstress squirmed away at the unnatural touch. "Oh, sorry. I was... hm."

"Are you sure you're not insane yet? What's going through that empty head of yours?"

"W-would you mind, singing that song?" the dragon asked suddenly.

"What? My song? Doesn't it hurt?" Azura wondered, twirling her pendant casually.

"I want to forget today," the Fell Dragon admitted. "It didn't do anything for me. I murdered 40 criminals for nothing."


Grima awoke in the river, Azura sitting next to him, waist deep in the riverside. The moon was low, leaving much to silhouette.

"Your people and I got along once. Don't you think it can happen again?" Azura asked, softly. "Dragons and humans. It was wonderful, if the stories were true."

"Dragons are not for this world," Grima repeated. "You know that."

"Surely there's some good in all of you. Even you."

"I know."

"A pity then. I would have very much liked to know you more, Fell Dragon."

"Songstress of Valla, I can assure you that you know enough."

Without a word, a whirlpool emerged from deeper within the water.

"And I'm just to fall in then?"

"Go."

"You know..."

"What?"

"I really don't see what Robin sees in that Corrin girl anyway. I personally would have liked you better."

With that, Grima plunged into the Astral Sea.


"And who are you supposed to be?" Grima groaned, stirring to consciousness and waking face to face with a... fish, thing.

"I'm Lilith, guardian of the Astral Sea. You're a long way from your domain, Fell Dragon."

"And here I thought I knew everything."

"Would you happen to know why you smell just like my niece, Morgan?"