Chapter 3

Stalking through Southtown in a foul mood, I glared at everything that moved with clenched teeth and an angry snarl on my face.

The 'bandits' hadn't even been worth skinning my blades for.

The villagers were avoiding me like I was one of them.

Chrom, Frederick, Lissa and Robin were all terrified of me.

That was fine.

That was fine.

I only needed them around until they could trip the right flags.

I'd kill her.

This time I swore I'd kill that draconic bitch Grima.

After all, third time's the charm, right?

I'd joined up with the Shepherds in the field, feigning an irritated ignorance about Robin and claiming myself to be a mercenary. I was the last of my unit, I'd told them, the bandits in the area having taken us by surprise during the night. I'd then proceeded to demand ten gold for my services clearing said bandits out of Southtown, which Chrom had agreed to, before proceeding to butcher the men attacking the town. It had been a massacre, plain and simple. Now, coated in blood and gore and looking for something else to take my anger out on, I waited for the Shepherds to hurry up and finish the scripted events so we could keep moving.

"Ben, will you be accompanying us back to Ylisstol?" Chrom asked hesitantly when they were getting ready to leave.

"Five gold," I bit out.

"I beg your pardon?" Chrom asked.

"My escort fee, it's five gold," I said, turning an unintentional glare on him.

"I… yes, we can pay that once we reach the capital," Chrom nodded.

Frederick glared at me over Chrom's head, but remained silent on the matter. I had made very clear, very early on, that I wasn't going to take Frederick's crap. Plus, after watching me literally tear through the bandits attacking this town on my lonesome, I think he was more than just 'wary' of me now. Lissa wouldn't even look at me, trembling every time I so much as glanced at her. Robin was oddly curious, but still left me alone.

Which was fine.

I'd kill Grima, then worry about what to do after.

As far as they knew, I was just angry that I'd lost all my friends.

In a way, I had.

So. This was fine.

Until I killed Grima, this would be fine.

"Then lead the way," I said with a tight nod.

As we left Southtown, I planned.

I'd kill Grima. Then I'd find the gemstones. I'd start in Valm. Kill Walhart, take his. Take Chon'sin's stone as my payment for 'saving' them from the Conqueror. Go to the Mila Tree, steal Tiki's as she slept. Move back over east, start in Regna Ferox. I'd challenge both Khans, then take theirs. I'd slaughter my way through Plegia until Validar or Gangrel or whoever was still alive on the throne when I was done coughed up theirs. Then I'd reason with Chrom, borrow the shield and the last stone. I'd talked him into weirder shit. Or maybe Emmeryn; if I messed with the timeline by doing this, she might still be alive.

Then I'd take them to Mount Prism, and summon Naga. I'd drag her out, make her send me back.

Or I'd kill her, too.

I figure, what's one more god's blood on my hands?

…

Oh god I'm becoming Kratos, I thought, running a hand down my face as we walked.

I spent the remainder of the afternoon lost in my own head, and the others let me be. Lissa seemed to be warming up to Robin just fine, which was good. I maintained my distance from the group, just close enough to cover the pretense of me being their 'guard'. Frederick kept watch on me, while Chrom was content to alternate between chatting with the girls and casting worried glances back at me.

After his fifth glance, I caught his gaze.

He didn't look back again.

We set up camp, and by then the blood had well and truly dried to me, flaking off every time I moved. The rags still around my shoulders and chest were tacky and stuck to me in places, and with a sigh I glanced around. Chrom and Frederick were already setting up a campsite as Lissa and Robin foraged for firewood, and I decided now was as good a time as any to clean up a little.

"I'll be at the stream for ten minutes," I declared, playing up the 'mercenary' role. "Try not to die while I'm gone. I still want to get paid."

Without waiting for a response, I began tromping over to the small stream, moving downstream a little so they could easily access drinking water without the mess I was about to make. I paused just long enough to kick off my boots, then waded into the cool water. I began scrubbing at the blood coating my front with a long sigh, stopping to watch the reddish-brown dissipating in the slowly running water. I splashed my face again, letting the drops run down my chin and off my beard before sighing again, standing up straight and running my hands over the top of my head to try and wipe away some of the sweat and grime. I decided against shaving with the daggers still on my belt, turning back towards the rocky shore…

… to find Chrom standing there next to my boots, a nervous look on his face and a bundle of cloth in his arms.

"Ah! Sir Ben! We, uh, the villagers…" he said, trailing off.

I glanced at him for a moment, looking so young and lost compared to the man he'd become, and sighed though my nose. I put my head down, stepping out of the creek and bending down for my boots.

"Just Ben is fine," I said.

My tone softened for the first time since I'd met this Chrom as I dusted the bottoms of my feet off and pulled my boots back on. My feet were still wet, but they'd dry quickly in this weather. These were good boots like that; the best that the Ylissean leatherworkers had been able to make, in fact.

"Ben, then," Chrom said, relaxing a little. "These are a gift from the villagers. They felt bad about your clothes being ruined, and were worried about you falling ill while we camped."

Don't, I thought bitterly.

I nodded, accepting the bundle.

The same shirt.

The same black coat.

"Thank you, milord," I said softly.

Don't you dare, I warned in my head.

"I… understand what you've gone through is most likely traumatic," Chrom started hesitantly. "But, if you would like, there could be a place for you in Ylisstol. Maybe among the Shepherds. We could use a man of your skill."

I forced myself to smirk a little, pulling my ruined shirt off before donning the fresh clothes. On reflex I stuffed the rags that had once been my shirt into my back pocket, just in case, and I resisted the urge to scowl.

Don't you dare act like the Chrom I knew.

"I appreciate the offer, Prince Chrom, but I have work to do," I said, favoring him with a tight grin. "But once that's done… well, we'll see."

Chrom nodded, smiling that insufferable Chrom-smile.

"Ah, so you are capable of actual speech," he chuckled. "I was beginning to worry."

"I assure you, milord, I'm fairly intelligent," I shook my head. "I also managed to work through some of what was on my mind with those bandits. I apologize if I was short before."

Chrom shook his head. "No, I dare say I would not be reacting much better under similar circumstances."

I nodded again, pulling the lapels of the rough woolen coat straight and moving to pass Chrom and head back to the campsite. I stopped at his shoulder, though, but held my tongue before moving on again.

He wasn't the Chrom I knew. It wasn't right. It didn't feel right.

I felt odd. Disconnected.

I guess dying twice did have side effects, after all.

I pushed slowly through the trees, brushing aside low hanging branches and undergrowth as I advanced without making a sound.

The Risen had come, according to script. Only this time, I'd been sitting awake against a tree, rather than sleeping next to Robin, who was curled up on her side next to where Lissa had been. I'd silently trailed Chrom and Lissa, and when the Risen had attacked I'd burst out of the flaming forest and made short work of them, too. 'Marth' hadn't even needed to intervene, and I'd ruined the cutscene, but we'd been beset by more Risen before she could raise a stink about it.

Again, I'd torn up the Risen by myself. Virion and Sully had arrived just as I'd finished, patting the persistent chalky ash off my new clothes. Lucina had delivered her warning, then disappeared into the forest, and I'd left, too, citing a wish to make sure nothing else was waiting for us.

Now, I was approaching where I'd found Grima the first time.

This was it.

I'd end her.

I'd kill the bitch that had made my life hell, been the cause of my suffering for so long.

This was fine.

This was perfect.

There, in the clearing ahead of me backlit by the raging forest fire in the distance, Grima knelt. The woman that had formerly been Robin snarled, her shoulders shaking with effort. I crept forward a little more, until I could hear what she was saying.

"I… will not… be denied… again!" Grima rasped. "Not again! Never again! I-"

Whatever else Grima was going to say was lost when a beam of light, the same kind I was intimately familiar with from up close, cut through her shoulder and blew her arm clear off in a shower if burned flesh and blood mist.

The second, wounded Grima I'd been expecting to find sat up, massaging her throat where her doppelganger had been strangling her. Neither made a sound as my timeline's Grima reached forward, grasping Lucina's timeline's Grima by the face. It would almost have been amusing, under different circumstances, trying to keep track of all this time travel nonsense, but not when there were two copies of the same dark god sitting in front of me.

My timeline's Grima frowned and climbed up to her knees, Lucina's gripping futilely at the hand clamped around her face with her remaining hand as mine rose. Then, with a flash and a sound almost like a sigh, Lucina's was gone, and my timeline's Grima knelt alone in the clearing. Her head drooped, and in the firelight I could see her shake her head.

"Never again…" she scoffed, shaking her head and struggling for breath. "Yeah right… It will… never end… will it?"

Her shoulders shuddered, before she heaved a rough breath.

And I realized she wasn't struggling for breath so much as she was…

She was crying.

"It'll never… never end…" Grima sobbed brokenly, in Robin's voice. "I'll never… never be… left alone… I'll never get… get to live… I don't want… d-don't want to die! Why do they all want me to die!?"

"Probably has something to do with the whole 'end of all humanity, rar-rar-rar I'm gonna eat you all' schtick," I said, stepping out into the clearing.

Grima looked up at me with Robin's face, tears mixing with blood on her face and running down the extra eyes branded on her cheeks. It looked like all six eyes were crying.

We looked at each other for a moment before Grima gave a broken roar, lifting her hand and firing off another of those beams of dark magic. I neatly side-stepped, expecting the attack this time. Her hand dropped lifelessly to the dirt, her shoulders shuddering again.

"Well, that's just rude," I deadpanned.

"So," she whispered. "This the part where you kill me?"

I thought about that, fingers flexing on the worn grips of my daggers. One in each hand. I thought about how I'd drive them into Grima's heart. What had once been Robin's heart. About how it would feel, my best friend's blood spurting on my face, coating my chest and running down my face. And I was fine.

This was fine.

This was what I wanted.

To kill Grima.

To stop the end of the world.

This was fine.

That's what I kept telling myself.

Yet, as I watched the broken, sobbing wretch curled up in the clearing, I just couldn't connect her with the ultimate evil that ended the world.

Something she said was bugging me. But my brain was too busy blue-screen-of-death-ing to pick it out.

"Well!?" Grima shrieked.

I let out a breath, the tension leaving my stance and my shoulders drooping. I'm pretty sure I felt something inside of me breaking. With languid, tired steps I moved over to the closest tree, and slid my back down it's trunk until I was sitting on the ground. Then I shook my trench knives off my fingers and held them in my palms, looking down at the black steel. I could almost feel the hot blood of all the lives I'd taken with them. It weighed so much. It was so heavy. And then I realized…

I was so not fine.

I was the exact opposite of fine.

And in response, my brain was utterly shutting down.

"I don't fucking care anymore," I sighed, dropping my trench knives in the dirt at my sides. "If you're gonna kill me again, make it stick this time, please. I'm done. I'm just… I'm tired. I'm done."

Grima looked up at me as if I'd just sprouted a second head.

We sat there like that, two mortal enemies watching each other, for what felt like an eternity. Grima silently crying as I just closed my eyes and let it all go.

I'd meant it.

I'd broken.

It had taken dying twice, but...

I really was done.

"I'll… I'll do it," Grima said, her voice less of a dark god and more of a terrified young woman. "I'll really kill you…"

"Be my guest," I sighed without opening my eyes. "Just get it fucking right this time."

"What… what is wrong with you!?" she blurted.

"Fuck you, that's what," I answered automatically.

"Fuck you!" she snapped, sounding exactly like Robin. "You… you worked for years to foil my plans! Years of your insignificant human life, just to be a pain in my ass! You professed to hate me! Tried to kill me, very nearly succeeded! And now…"

"And now I'm done," I finished for her. "I don't care anymore. You win. Go do whatever."

"If this is some stupid human trick…" Grima growled.

"Fuck you," I sighed lightly, crossing my ankles to get more comfortable and resting my hands on my stomach. "I said I'm done. No more plans. No more schemes. I'm done. Go fight with Lucina or something, I-"

"I don't want to fight with anyone!" Grima screamed.

At this, I did open one eye. Grima was on all fours now, panting, her head hanging low and her face obscured by Robin's long white hair.

"I never… never wanted…" she muttered.

"Join the club," I said lazily. "You think I wanted to fight? Fuck no. I just wanted to write and take it easy. Life sucks like that."

"I wouldn't know," Grima said, her voice quivering.

I opened both eyes now, sitting up a little.

This was interesting, to say the least. The chance to talk to the big bad herself? Pretty rare, I found myself thinking absently.

A part of me, somewhere in the back of my broken mind, screamed at me, calling me a fool, but in my emotionally numb state all I felt was an abstract, academic-type curiosity.

I mean, really: When else would I get the opportunity to question a god?

"You never even got the chance, did you?" I asked.

"What would you know!?" she snarled, head whipping up. "You don't care! None of you humans do! I didn't choose to be made this way! To be created from spare parts, to… to… to take life from death!"

She was hyperventilating now, sitting up and wrapping her arms tight around her shoulders. She looked so pathetic, so broken…

So much like Robin…

"That bastard Alm didn't… he just saw a… a m-monster to slay… to add to his l-legend…" she went on, shaking her head. "No matter how m-much I screamed… how much I b-begged… he… I…"

She looked up at me, eyes wide and wild, cheeks still wet.

"I just wanted to live!" she said desperately.

"So go live," I said evenly. "Be done with it. You have a body. You can go anywhere. You're already here, so no great big sacrificial summoning necessary. No one will ever know."

"I'm not…" Grima said, her voice pleading. "I can't… I… I can't sustain myself without… life…"

"What, woodland critters not tasty enough?" I asked, quirking a brow.

Grima actually coughed out a small laugh, looking back down as she tightened her grip around her shoulders as she shook her head again.

She sounded exactly like Robin, that laugh. The thought should have torn me up inside, but… I felt nothing but a detached sense of 'huh, how about that?'

"I don't… I don't like eating animals," she admitted. "I… they haven't… done anything."

"So what? With humans it's revenge?"

Silence hung heavy in the clearing before she spoke again.

I wanted her to answer.

I wanted to know what she thought.

"Yes," Grima admitted, her voice barely a whisper.

I leaned back against the tree again, thinking.

Well, that's dark, but not unexpected, I reasoned internally.

But… did I even care?

Was I truly so numb to everything that I was actually trying to think of ways to help Grima? Was I so utterly exhausted that all I could see was the one problem directly in front of me?

Apparently, yes.

"Have you tried, I dunno, trying to limit the amount of… uh… 'mojo' you take from people when you feed?" I asked, fumbling for the right word. "Like, not drinking them dry, just taking enough to sustain yourself?"

Grima froze for a moment, before shaking her head.

"I… I don't have that kind of control," she admitted softly.

"Okay, so, all or nothing, gotcha," I shrugged. "Well, what about food? Have you tried actually eating food? Like, real food, not people?"

Grima shook her head again, staying silent this time.

"Okay, well, why not try eating a steak or something-"

"Why are you helping me!?" Grima shouted, looking up with red-rimmed eyes.

I answered without missing a beat.

"Because I just got done dying twice, and my brain has totally shut down with shock," I said, matter-of-factly. "And having a problem to focus on is actually kind of grounding me, so work with me here."

Amazing how vocalizing a problem helps put it into perspective, make it easier to understand like that.

I was in shock. Simple.

In one tiny corner of my mind, I was screaming, riling, panicking and all those other fun little adjectives. Yet, the rest of me, the conscious part, was just…

Empty.

I felt empty.

"N-no," Grima said after a moment, blinking a few times. "No, I've never tried… actually eating."

"Okay, is this the first human body you've had?" I asked.

"Y-yes…" Grima admitted.

"Well, unless it's dead, you should be able to maintain that form, at a minimum, with decent eats," I said. "As for the apocalyptic, god-level power… uh… huh. Uh… you take 'life' from humans, right?"

Grima nodded slowly.

"So what if we try to limit the amount you take?" I suggested.

"I already told you, I can't!" Grima shouted, her eyes flashing crimson in the gloom.

"Have you tried?" I asked without flinching.

"Of course I have!" she snapped bitterly.

"Well, not with me you haven't," I said, quirking my head to one side. "What kind of variables did you run? Was it all magical? What about physical?"

"I… I use Dark Magic to siphon the soul out of… why am I telling you this!?" Grima snapped, before coughing.

"Because I asked," I deadpanned. "And apparently no one else ever has before."

Grima didn't answer, just glaring up at me from beneath her fringe and coughing some more.

Ah, I noted absently. She was still wounded. Right.

"Can you move?" I asked.

"Of course!" Grima growled.

"Come over here."

"Why!? So you can kill me!?"

"No, so I can try something."

"Why do you not come here?"

"Because fuck you, I'm comfy."

"I'm injured," Grima said, almost petulantly.

"And I'm aiming to try to fix that," I said, quirking my head again.

All through this exchange my voice hadn't changed from the tired monotone I'd been speaking in since finding Grima. She obviously found this curious, but clearly still didn't trust me. She hissed a little as her hand tightened around her stomach wound, looking down again.

"You're the one that did this to me," she accused softly.

"So let me fix it," I answered simply.

Grima eyed me for another moment and I frowned, sighing.

"Okay, you're wounded in your body. I'm shell-shocked. My mind's wounded, and my legs don't seem to want to move. So get my friend's body's ass over here so I can try and put it back together."

Grima blinked at me a few times, her eyes wide with surprise for a moment before setting her features in another deadly glare.

"If this is a trick…"

"It's not, I'll even let you hold my knives," I said, quirking one brow.

With a tired sigh that trailed into a groan, Grima began to inch forward on her knees, holding her stomach the whole time and glaring at me warily. She paused when she was within striking distance, looking at me as if waiting for me to lash out at her. I sat there, watching her with an impassive expression for a few moments.

After about a minute, Grima huffed and shifted, taking some of the weight off her injured core.

"Is this close enough?" she asked acidly.

"No, I can't reach you," I pointed out lightly.

"You are trying my patience, human," Grima growled, inching forward again with a pained gasp until she was kneeling at my shoulder.

"Okay, better," I nodded.

I slowly reached across my body with my right hand, gently lifting my left dagger from the dirt. I heard Grima's rush of breath as she tensed, then heard it leave her in a confused gasp as I ran the dagger over my left wrist without so much as wincing.

Blood began to run down my arm instantly, the cut from the razor-sharp dagger deep and actually fairly painful.

And yet, I barely felt it.

Instead, I held my hand up to Grima, ignoring the drops of blood staining my already-filthy blue jeans.

"Drink," I said.

"That's disgusting!" Grima shrieked. "Why would I-"

"Blood is life, energy," I explained quickly. "And you're wasting it. Don't absorb life from me, absorb it from the blood you drink."

Like a vampire, I added in my head, but kept that thought to myself. I wasn't sure that Ylisse or Plegia even had Vampire stories, but I didn't want to put Grima off now that I was already bleeding.

She eyed my bloody wrist for another moment with open disdain, wincing again as she shifted. The pain in her middle clearly won out, and she hesitantly brought her lips, Robin's lips, to my self-inflicted, bleeding wound.

I'd never been one for vampire-play in the bedroom; hell, I didn't even like being bitten. But the way she gently sucked the injury, hesitantly probing at the cut with her tongue as she lapped up my life-fluid, was, in hindsight, honestly kinda hot.

After a few minutes I began to feel a little light-headed, and gently pulled my arm away from Grima's suckling mouth. She sat back, a sour look on her face as I pulled my ruined shirt from my back pocket and wrapped it around my wrist.

"Knew I saved this thing for a reason," I muttered, glancing up. "Well? Anything?"

Grima licked her bloody lips, still frowning. She pulled her hand off her stomach wound, gently probing at the fresh skin now covering where I'd stabbed her back in our original timeline. The cut on her face had healed, now, too, leaving nothing but a red smear on her cheek over the eye markings.

"That was barely anything," she complained. "Enough to heal myself, but nothing else. Certainly not worth the horrid taste."

"The evil god of death doesn't like the taste of blood? Go figure," I scoffed. "But, we just proved that you can take energy without killing people."

"We did," Grima nodded.

"Yay," I deadpanned. "Go team."

There was a pregnant silence hanging between us, broken when I sighed and leaned back against the tree behind me, shifting to get comfortable again. Sitting up like that had made my foot start to fall asleep.

"Why?" Grima whispered.

"Fucked if I know," I shrugged. "Do I need a reason?"

"You are insufferable," Grima hissed.

"And yet I see you smiling," I pointed out.

Grima started, her hands coming up to gingerly probe at the corners of her mouth, which was turned up ever-so-slightly in a small smile.

"Why?" she repeated, her voice thick. "That… you… y-you're the first… first human that's ever h-helped me since… ever… ever even spoken to me… a-as an equal… since my Father…"

I quirked my head again, watching curiously as her shoulders started to tremble with sobs once more.

Without even knowing why, I reached up and put a hand on her shoulder. She stiffened at the contact, but didn't pull away, watching me with wide, frightened eyes. Gently, slowly, I turned and pulled her down across my lap and wrapped my arms around her, resting my hands on one of her shoulders.

"Why?" she asked again.

"Because clearly someone's never been hugged before," I said. "And clearly you need a hug. And I have been told I give great hugs."

"I'm not your Robin," Grima said, almost petulantly.

"Technically this body never was," I pointed out. "Now shut up and hug."

"I… how?" Grima asked.

I pulled my head back a little from her and frowned.

"You've really never been hugged before?"

"W-well… Robin has, and I have all her memories…" Grima said, actually sounding somewhat embarrassed.

"But never you?" I clarified.

"No one wants to hug the evil god of death…" Grima spat, looking away.

I rolled my eyes, adjusting my grip around her shoulders and pulling her flush to my chest.

"Well. I'll just take your hug-virginity then. Ha ha. Go me," I said tonelessly. "Now relax. Lean into it, and relax."

Grima stiffened again, before closing her eyes and resting her head against my chest, bringing her hand up to rest atop where mine were clasped on her shoulder, and we sat there like that until morning.

And all the while, as I held the fitfully slumbering Grima, I stared into nothing over the top of her head and asked myself what the fuck I was even doing.

AN: Yes, ha ha! SI!Ben and Grima, off on another whirlwind adventure! New chapters on the 14th of every month! Don't forget to drop a review if you enjoyed this story so far. Thanks for reading!

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