(A/N): ...yeah... that chapter took a while. I was plagued with an intense writer's block and I started University. Woohoo!
-still un-betaed.

Just as his father planned, the next week they left for the Vent'am shrine to search for a precious dragonstone. They boarded the carriage at first light and departed in an unusual quiet manner: No trumpets, no banners and no bystanders to greet them, they left like thieves.

The streets were eerily quiet and if it was not for the rooster that crowed, Robin would have sworn a death curse had stricken the city and stolen away every soul that inhabited it. The stillness allowed him to observe the city, uncharted territory for someone as sequestered as he was. It wasn't as beautiful as the palace was: no rich colours, no delicate stained glass, no draperies and no expensive carpets. But something was special about those sandy-coloured houses with flat roofs, something alien. An invisible cloud of suffering floated above the rooftops. A pain carried by every Plegians since the last war. Hunger, illness and crime...

They didn't stay in the capital long, before he could blink, the horses were already galloping in the vast wasteland.

Farmlands were rare here and farmers preferred to stick close to waterways. The only way to make something grow here even with the various irrigation techniques they perfected through the centuries. And the livestock was kept in for most of the day.

It was empty, flat rare trees decorated scarcely the vast landscape.

The scenery didn't change save for the hues of the sand that turned pure gold as the sun rose higher. The air burned more by each passing hour and by noon, Robin thought with revulsion that he might have drenched his ceremonial robes in sweat. It was to his great pleasure that the carriages stopped by an oasis to quench the horses thirst and fill the Grimleal members and soldiers stomachs.

Everyone sighed and stretched their sore limbs, either from riding or sitting for too long. Validar, the only one who shared his carriage with his son helped him down the carriage steps when he noticed how shaky his legs were.

"Your servants will set up your lunch spot by the pond," informed Validar, pointing at the spot, shadowed by acacias. "You won't be bothered there."


It was his solace. Solitude was peace, he repeated to himself after each bite he took of his meal. No one to bother him, just like his father said. Like this he could appreciate all the subtle delicacy of the meat, bread and fruits he had to eat: Fresh, juicy and tasty. More delicious than what soldiers had to eat even more than what his father and the king -who had joined the cohort to meet up with the border patrol- had to eat.

Relaxing under the shade of an acacia, even though it didn't spare him from the heat, he observed their escort on the other side, trying to pick up stray words. It was an unintelligible blabber.

From the sea of heads, he discerned Aversa's white mane, she shone like the brightest star under the desert sun. Not once did she look his way, like she would always do, sending him flirtatious glances that would fluster him. The absence of her advances was disquieting, Validar probably spoke to her, telling her to stay away from Grima's flesh and blood, just like he had sworn he would to Robin. Even from far away, Robin could see a difference in her stance: back straight, chin jutted out and arrogance in her dark eyes. She tried to appear more intimidating to hide the anxiety Robin knew she was feeling. He, her only guarantee for promotion was out of her grasp.

He truly did pity her. Living in this family was taxing. You had to be on top to not disappoint and Aversa, not having a drop of fell blood, was susceptible to be left in the dust.

Even though their relationship was superficial, her using him and him playing along, she was refreshing to have around...

Robin froze in alarm when the soldiers suddenly stood up one by one, a few of them surrounded the High Hierophant, hands gripped around their lances, and all of their were eyes lost on the same point on the horizon. Robin could only take a peek through the wall of bodies: a tiny dot, cloud of dust in its trail, came towards them at a rattling pace.

A horse and a cavalier, the Plegian banner fluttering behind the messenger. After a tense moment, the horse stopped, wheezing, beside the temporary settlement.

"A message from the Plegian border, near Heimler," the sweat-drenched rider, wiping his brow. "Following a raid on the Ylissean town of Themis, we successfully kidnapped a noble heir. General Orton ask for the next procedures."

Robin abandoned his meal, pushed through his guards and slowly trotted over to where the scene was happening. Validar stopped his advance just as he was about to enter the throng of soldier, the man's face shone with absolute mirth and so did King Gangrel who let out a guffaw.

"Give me a horse," he ordered, snapping his fingers and seized the horse's reins a soldier just brought him. "Aversa you're coming with me."

The woman absolutely appeared radiant as she joined the king and his new escort. They left quickly in a cloud of dust.

Validar was still beaming when they mounted in the carriage again with full stomaches and Robin could guess why: The Fire Emblem was a well guarded treasure in Ylisse and to lure it out they needed to invade Ylisse by declaring war. Whoever declares it first doesn't matter, but having this noble girl in their grasp could be the spark that set everything in motion.

The goal the Grimleal set for him has never seemed so close. His Awakening was nigh.


Robin was choking. Who had this great idea the force the High Hierophant in the most stuffy robes as a tradition? He would seriously spit on their grave or expedited them into it if they weren't already. He wiped the trickles of sweat off his nape, grimacing at the slimy textures it left on his fingers.

The shadowy interior of their compartment still brought no release from the heat and Robin nervously swallowed around the thick paste in his mouth. Their pause at the oasis to fill themselves hadn't helped, he didn't feel well.

No matter how many swings out his canteen he took it simply couldn't save him from the dizzy spells.

He already emptied two of them...

His only silver lining was that they were close to destination and that mean it would be over soon. He hoped this dragonstone really was worth it.

The scouts left the escort to investigate the old temple: It was dangerously close to the border and this route of pilgrimage was known by the Ylisseans. There was no guarantee that they wouldn't try anything dirty. Especially after the raid on Themis.

"Look over there." Validar pointed at shimmering silhouette in the distance pushing apart the veils that shielded them from the sun. The shrine wasn't impressive at all. Mostly swallowed by sand and its cracked walls seemed ready to collapse, its remote location making it impossible for the Plegian government to send specialist to conserve this historical site. Looking more closely, it appeared that the main part of the shrine was underground. It promised cooler air...

When the scouts came back, the procession finally stopped by its gates.

The heat flared to his head, catching him off guard with a new dizzy spell when he stepped down from the carriage. The frontier of unconsciousness crept into the corner of his vision and being embraced by it was tempting just to escape the stifling air. But for Grima, collapsing would be a scandal, no matter the circumstances and especially in front of an audience. Even in front of Aversa it would be a disgrace.

Face scrunched in the shadow of his hood, he gestured to a servant to a servant to bring more water.

The liquid was blissfully cool against his lips and parched throat. Swallowing greedily around the thick paste in his mouth and hoping the drink would take effect.

His father cautious stare was the first thing he opened his eyes again, obviously aware of how his son was fairing.

"Soldiers are to guard the perimeter of the shrine I will proceed with the High Hierophant."

His legs shook each step he took down the stairs. The air was stuffy, humid and cooler the more downward they went, but still too warm, his insides were burning and the sweat pearling on his skin made him shiver. He couldn't find any relief like he had hoped he would. He was thankful for Validar to acknowledge his silent request and assure that they would remain alone.

When the underground darkness shrouded them, his father brought his hand high the air, the flame dancing between his fingers grew in strength and lit the underground mausoleum and he sent it flying. The orb of fire stayed suspended in midair in the room that was smaller than Robin had thought. About twice his arm-span with ancient fresques etched onto the sandstones walls, and in the center of the room presided an ornate marble sarcophagus.

The heavy silence was cut short by Robin's cough on the dust that hung in the air. Validar clasped his hands in prayer and Robin did the same, dropping to his knees shakily in front of the tomb.

The whole situation was troubling. Grima desecrating the final rest of a dragon was outrageous. He was soiling Grima's image, but nonetheless, an artifact of immense power was within his reach and his father consented for him to use. And said artefact would allow him to fight for the plegian theocracy and guarantee his safety till his revival at the Dragon's Table. Considering the Ylissean's kidnapping that just occured, War would strike again sooner than anyone would expect.

"Are you well enough to open the sarcophagus?", asked Validar. The flickering flame outlined the ounce of worry on his face.

Robin frowned. "It's with the corpse?" He had expected the dragonstone to be kept somewhere in an urn or even decorating the marble sarcophagus.

"Dragonstones are the most precious thing to manaketes." humpfed Validar. "It is an embodiment of their incredible power. They would always keep it close to their heart. Help me push... if you're well enough."

No matter, Robin's hands joined his father's on the lid's side, they counted down and pushed. He grunted with efforts, his limbs shaking from exhaustion.

"ROBIN!"

He felt like his body floated between two waters and he vaguely felt an arm slung behind his back and a trembling one cupping his nape, while he was half-way from laying down.

How did he end up in this position? Wasn't he pushing off the lid of the coffin?

"Father..." Robin tried to shift and he felt his burning muscle cramp oddly at the effort and head swam in confusion. The hands fluttered around him and moved, surprising him with an intense wave of nausea. Bile flooded the back of his throat and he whined in pain.

Unconsciousness finally relieved him.


Gulping the small trickle of saliva in his mouth and slowly blinking away the drowsiness, Robin let eyes roam the vaulted ceiling, the bas-relief, wondering where he was. Then the luxurious room became familiar, he has living between those four walls for over nineteen years... His own bedroom. He groaned, shifting underneath his bed covers, testing his sore limbs. The cramps were finally gone but he felt weak all over.

Rolling onto his side, he stared out the window with half-lidded eyes. It was a new morning, the greyish light was soft and an inch of sunlight peeked over the wasteland's horizon. His focus shifted to land onto his night stand and the small parcel that rested on it. Something small wrapped in cloth. He picked it up, which proved itself to be more difficult than expected with a numb hand.

A strange awe got caught in his throat as he unfolded the gift someone left for him...

It was the dragonstone.

The nacreous rock, about the size of a walnut, was of murky brown colour, but a soft glint teal shone in the morning. It wasn't as magnificent as he expected, but the pulsations of raw magic, a force of nature thrummed against his fingertips. He was mesmerized

He could finally afford himself a smile.


In the afternoon, Robin was well enough to leave his quarters with aid of an hydrating elixir his father brought to him and the command that he join him in the courtyard to celebrate Gangrel's return. The High Hierophant could feel the buzz of unease through the corridors as guards flocked towards the courtyard.

Robin was careful enough to remain in the shade with his escort on top of the balcony that overlooked the crowded square below. The chatter ended when trumpets blared, clamoring the King's return. Horses poured in through the gates...

One

Two

Three

Four

...

There was a total of ten horses, far less than what was supposed to accompany royalty

Robin's hands tensed on the railing as he scan the faces. It was with an overwhelming sense of relief that he recognized Aversa's white hair and black garments and she appeared unharmed.

Validar walked briskly towards Gangrel who seemed quite upset and gesticulated vehemently after something Robin's father said.

It was only after the courtyard slowly emptied itself that the first whispers of rumors reached the Hierophant:

They not only lost their Ylissean hostage, but missed they missed a rare opportunity for Plegia's rightful retribution. The Exalt, the holder of the Emblem, along with the Ylissean prince and princess had been present. Their only saving grace in this mission: War was officially declared.