A/N A continuation, because being running out of other options in life drives me to do this. Part 1 of 3 to be posted tonight. I don't own Fire Emblem or any of its alternate timeline forms.
It was dawn.
After riding for so long nonstop, Adriane greeted the approaching, bleary sun with equally bleary eyes. She had finally halted the undead horse on a cliff with an exceptional vantage point of Ylisstol. There it was, in all of its gleaming glory.
Well, at least that's how she imagined it appeared, once upon a time. Now the capital looked worse for wear, with walls that were strong and fortified, yet clearly worn after so many years of conflict. Even from her distance, Adriane saw how several towers were either decrepit or in terrible need of repair.
How has it taken my master so long to overtake it?
As she was dwelling on her next course of action, the runaway commander felt a sharp, stabbing pain in her mind, as if someone had taken a sword and driven it through her skull.
"Agh!" she groaned, clutching her head and falling.
"Did you really think I would not notice?"
It was a booming voice, loud and clear. It was angry. Darkness descended.
"Your insubordination? Your defiance?"
When Adriane opened her eyes, she was nowhere. Everywhere was black without end, without light. Here in the blackness it was just him and her. He floating in front of her, a malevolent and powerful aura surrounding his form. She lower than her, standing, but on what floor she could not perceive. Neither spoke, one choosing to blankly watch the other squirm. The silence was palpable, rare and fragile and downright awkward.
Adriane briefly wondered if she had made a mistake in coming. No, I cannot falter. But… should I speak first? At the moment her mind was racing, caught up in countless scenarios, ways this meeting could go. Here goes. "Master, I-"
The snowy-haired tactician raised up a hand and she was instantly silenced.
"Interesting that you're here in Ylisstol so soon. I knew the southern Ylisseans were nothing more than maggots, but one would think that they would be able to withstand for longer than half a week." Grima cut in conversationally, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he glanced sideways at the woman.
She looked tired, to say the least. Her normally immaculate navy hair was tousled and grey bags hung from underneath her eyes. At his words, she had rightfully cringed before falling into a crisp salute. "I abandoned my post, Master Grima. But I am not sorry. I came here to be of the most use to you, and to remind you of my debt and… gratitude towards you," the seventeen-year old said.
Master Grima offered her a small smile of amusement, but his expression was still tinged with suspicion. "I see. I suppose it cannot be helped now, with you here already. How should I respond to this insubordination, hm?" His tone was now predatory.
Danger. Adriane threw herself to the ground, or whatever passed for it in the void. She prostrated and bit her tongue. She heard his steps grow louder as he approached her. Finally she saw the hem of his tactician's cloak, covered in dirt and well-worn from use. "Let's play question and answer, shall we?" his deep voice intoned from above her head. Adriane nodded her head once to show she was listening.
"How did you get here?"
"By horseback. Risen."
"A long distance. When did you arrive?"
"Just now." A pregnant pause. "I rode all night without stopping." Just thinking about it reminded Adriane of how sleepy she actually was, and her face grew taut as she stifled a yawn.
An even longer pause from him, and Adriane grew anxious.
Then, "How did you hear about this?"
"Morgan."
"Curious. How did you get past Morgan? She's very observant."
"Her intolerance of bugs proved to be a helpful distraction."
A long silence, then finally a short chuckle. "Curious indeed… Last one, Adriane. Stand up. Look at me," her master commanded.
Warily, she brought herself up to her feet. She met his deep gaze for a second before averting her eyes quickly. He growled, grabbing her shoulders and jerking her forward. "I said look at me." Her head snapped up and she was forced to comply.
"Now… why did you come here? Why did you directly disobey me?"
Her lips were suddenly dry in nervousness. She licked them once before whispering, "Forgive me, Master Grima. I only thought of you. During my… assignment in the southern lands, I encountered information on a plot against you. Coupled with the knowledge of your upcoming victory, I… acted brashly and rushed here, to your aid."
She bit her lower lip anxiously, desiring his approval and forgiveness. Anything to know that what she did was okay and that he wasn't really mad at her, not really.
His crimson eyes darted to her mouth, then her chin, her nose, her neck, her eyes, searching for something that she didn't know. Honesty? Determination? Loyalty? Adriane did her best to make her intentions clear and was rewarded when the steely look in his eyes eventually softened.
"You're an idiot," Master Grima proclaimed. But although his words had bite, his hand had left her shoulder momentarily to brush away a stray blue lock of hair. His hands were rough, and grazed her cheek like a feather. He continued in a murmur. "But clever enough, and loyal, and so very much like..." he trailed off wistfully, solemnly, then cleared his throat.
Like who? she thought. Adriane felt an unfamiliar feeling flare in her chest. It wasn't pleasant.
She kept silent as Grima said, "I had a contingency plan for the event in which you could not be kept away."
He's letting this slide?
For the first time Adriane noticed how close the two of them were and she stilled. There was less than an inch between their noses and she could smell his breath. There was honey, cloying and sweet. But there was also something else, a dark undertone that set off alarm bells in her mind. She couldn't quite place what it was, but the combination in his scent called out to her, simultaneously drawing her deeper and repelling her form that dark, shadowy abyss that was he...
The spell was broken when the white-haired tactician spoke. "Do you accept?" he asked, already knowing the answer. There was only ever one option, with him.
Mutely she nodded. Their eyes met and Adriane felt her heart stop for a moment. The only thing keeping her grounded was the feel of his fingers on her shoulders. At some point they had dug themselves into her shoulder blades, and she was dully aware of the pain.
Master Grima closed those red eyes with a sigh before he leaned away and reestablished the distance. The air cleared of its headiness. An unreadable expression graced his face, and his eyes betrayed nothing as he scanned his disoriented subordinate. "Good," he finally said and handed her a tied up scroll from within his cloak. "I expect a complete victory, nothing less." His voice was once more dispassionate and cold. She gathered her senses and obediently pocketed the missive. This Adriane was accustomed to.
Relieved, she bowed deeply, ignoring the fast pace her heart was going. Ba-dum, ba-dum, like the pounding of war drums. Be still, she growled at it. Control. The commander held her bowed position, awaiting Grima's conclusion of their meeting.
But it seems that Master Grima was not yet finished. "Adriane!" The woman glanced back, surprised. Master Grima looked… sheepish almost. His right hand was outstretched towards her, but he pulled it back with a self-reprimanding look. She raised an eyebrow.
A rosy color dusted his pale cheeks. The man placed a hand behind his neck and wouldn't look at her as he said, "Nothing. You've become an important asset to the cause, Adriane. Because of that, I can't have you suddenly collapsing under the strain. Take care of yourself or I shall be displeased." It was a threat and an order, and Adriane knew she should have felt fear, but… was it just her imagination or was there a hint of concern?
He… he does care? To her mortification, she could feel the heat rising to her own face and she was thankful for formalities as she bowed again. Beaming, she responded, "Y-yes sir! You as well! Erm… not that someone like you would need to be careful, but…"
She bowed, and tried to attribute the rush of blood in her head to the frequent respectful bowing. Of course it was from that. Of course.
The woman stole a quick peek at the tactician from under her bangs. Master Grima continued to look pointedly at the far wall, a sign that she was dismissed. Still, there was a small curve to his lips that wasn't there before. Genuine, without a hint of malice or insincerity.
The pitch blackness of the void abruptly left her, and Adriane realized that she was lying on grassy earth. Slowly, the rest of her senses returned, and she saw the dim light, smelled the stale air, and tasted death and decay. The outskirts of Ylisstol.
Carefully, Adriane picked herself up and reached into her pocket. The scroll.
On the paper, an elegant cursive outlined her new mission, and as Adriane read, a smile slowly grew upon her face. Infiltrate. Position. Assassinate. All of the things she ever wanted, listed on one page with permission to execute without mercy, without restraint. If, when, she managed to pull it off...
Her blade would drink its fill.
Her parents would be avenged.
His dream would be fulfilled.
She would finally feel…. Whole.
Was this what happiness felt like?
It was only after the blue-haired woman had left the hillside that she realized that she had forgotten to ask him just why she had to be kept away in the first place.
It was only after the mental link had been severed that Grima-Robin?-let out the breath he had been holding. Out, in, out, and in. They had forgotten how much energy it took to maintain such a bond, at least on as connected a level as this one was.
The subsequent intakes of air paled in comparison to the sensory overload from earlier. The air seemed duller somehow, once she was gone.
Adriane. Lucina, at this rate. Though she reeked of human, and sweat, and the sun, even Grima had to admit that there was something in her scent that drew him closer and closer. She smelled of life and flowers and happier times. She smelled of a memory of an aging man, waiting to die alone.
He-Grima-grinned ruefully and shook his head. He collapsed back into the chair and swung his legs lazily over the armrest. He covered his eyes and tried to relive the memory and the emotions that it induced.
There was a fierce pride and feeling of ownership that swelled in his chest. She came for him. Because she worshipped him, and would cheat and lie and kill for him-he saw it in her eyes. And those deep blues…
Did you see the way she looked at us, human? So much devotion… it's as if she is Lucina, haha, Grima recalled gleefully. It's almost as if she is real.
She is real, Robin snapped. Adriane and Lucina are real, one and the same.
No, Grima answered. Real, but different. This woman is ours. She belongs to us in body and soul, spirit and mind. If we told her to dance like that mother of hers used to, she'd do it with no questions. You'd enjoy that, wouldn't you? Silence, and Grima cackled into the vacuum. But I have to admit, the best part is if we told her to kill, she'd ask how and how many, and would feel nothing in doing so. The girl is ours through and through.
No response. Then the human thought, What happened to keeping Lucina safe?
Grima rolled his crimson eyes. For all of his so-called intelligence, his Avatar still wasn't able to grasp such a simple concept.
We had a plan, Grima. You, Morgan, and I. She was not to be put in any real danger, the human in his mind objected. Grima felt the growing anger within as Robin fired at him, she was supposed to be kept away. The order was given, you and I agreed. Yet you give her the one of the most life-threatening positions in the entire fucking army! The front lines… what if something were to happen to her again?
The Fell Dragon felt his Avatar sag at the thought with despair and he scoffed. Oh, here we go again. As much as Grima relished the suffering of others, Robin's sad spells over the years had ceased to amuse him. It didn't help that even the Fell Dragon could feel the mind gap between the two grow smaller and smaller, so the human's feelings became the dragon's.
Shut up, he snarled. He hated the way that a small portion of him agreed with Robin, as if his Adriane couldn't handle those insignificant humans. Nothing is going to happen to our little pet. All of her training has made sure of that. Somewhere inside, Robin cringed, but agreed. So far, so good. And besides, did you see how absolutely bloodthirsty she was for those humans? Absolutely beautiful. Once we let her have her little revenge, we can play it to our advantage. She'll stay with us forever this time.
Robin weakly made an argument about her age, that she was too young, inexperienced. Too pure, for such filthy, filthy, old… A child? Age? Grima responded. What is age to one who has lived as long as I? As you? Besides, she made a promise. 'No matter what the future holds,' she had said. This time we can hold her to that. The demon felt his hostage's constitution weaken.
Forever, Robin mused wistfully. Grima wanted to throw up at the sentiment, but instead smiled pleasingly. He had won for now. Job done, his stomach growled, demanding sustenance. He then reached behind the chair for the hidden stash of food.
His long fingers retrieved a small jar of honey, which he dipped two fingers into. The two took a moment to inspect the golden substance cling to the digits before, for lack of a spoon, inserting the digits into the mouth. Their tongue worked the stickiness off. Robin hummed contentedly, reminded of golden days and pleasured nights. Grima remembered when his tongue removed human bones from between his dragon teeth.
The first swallow went down easily, cloyingly sweet but compliant. The second did not go so well.
As the man-dragon sucked the second dip, the sweetness clung to the inside of his throat and refused to go down. It began fighting the attempt for air.
"Ngghh," he grunted, before submitting coughs into his sleeve. The coughs mercilessly wracked the once proud frame.
Cough.
This had been going on for quite some time.
Hack.
It was not a simple choking on food. There was nothing to stop this… this decay.
Cough.
All of this rot, slowly accumulating over the years. It was not natural. Nothing could halt or postpone the process, unless somehow, this form was replaced…
Hack.
But no, it was too risky. The consequences were too high.
Inevitably, resignation.
The coughing fit felt like it had lasted an eternity. When he pulled away, red and sticky yellow splotches stained the cloth and his lips. Disgusting. Pathetic. His lips curled in contempt at the sight. It was like seeing an old acquaintance, one he did not particularly care for. Then everything just drained out of his body. He-the man? The demon? It was hard to tell anymore-suddenly felt so tired and spent.
He just wanted to destroy without care. The other, to possess without consequence. They thought they had forever.
The two were then reminded just how long their forever really was.
A/N Low key, this whole fic would be a good lemon. Too bad I can't write anything vaguely citrusy.