Chapter 5

I awoke to a familiar ache in my head and abs, and to an unfamiliar ceiling.

The ache was easily identifiable; wouldn't be the first time I was waking up sore and hungover after rigorous sex. The ceiling, however…

I groaned, lifting one heavy hand to cover my eyes with the back of my wrist as it all came flooding back to me.

"Ah, good, you're still alive."

I groaned again, wishing the pounding in my head actually was a hangover.

After a moment of silence, Grima spoke again.

"You… are still alive, right?"

"Define… ugh… define alive," I grunted, moving my hand so I could look around.

If the itchy wool blanket rubbing against my junk was any indication, I was still naked. But I'd been arranged carefully and tucked in comfortably, so I wasn't cold. Even if my back was sore from laying on it; I usually slept on my side for a reason. Grima was fully clothed again, sitting at the small table in the old chair, her knees drawn up to her chest and her chin resting atop them as she watched me. Her coat was still sitting on the floor where we'd cast it aside earlier. It was a small room, and we were barely a few feet apart, but there still felt like a lot of distance between us that hadn't been there… before the sex.

Once again, fuckin' seemed to have ruined one of my friendships.

I blinked, amazed I'd just categorized Grima of all things as a 'friend'.

Jesus Christ, what the fuck is wrong with me!? I thought to myself.

"You are breathing enough to sarcasm, I suppose that means you are at least half alive," Grima sighed, sounding almost relieved.

If I had to put a number to it, I'd say it looked like her stress levels were about a seven-point-five…

I stopped, blinking at the ceiling as an intense feeling of self-loathing came over me.

"I did not just think that to myself…" I groaned.

"What was that?"

"Was that as good for you as it was for me?" I asked, deflecting instead.

I'd been aiming for a playful tone, but I was so exhausted that the words came out in a weak mumble, only the tiniest hint of a grin on my face.

"Yes, yes, your sexual prowess was impressive," Grima snorted.

"Tamed the dragon with my dick," I chuckled weakly. "Go me."

Grima snorted again, her shoulders shaking as a few giggles forced their way out. She cleared her throat to try to hide them, looking at me seriously again.

"I almost killed you," she said, her voice low.

Apparently, my efforts at deflecting with humor had failed and we were doing this now…

"Wouldn't be the first time," I smirked, turning my head to look at her properly.

Grima smirked back. "Touché."

"It did work, though, right?" I asked.

"It… did," Grima agreed reluctantly.

"I am a fucking genius," I sighed. "Say it. I wanna hear you say it."

"You were right-"

"That's not it!"

"I am not saying it!"

"You almost killed me, though."

"Ragh! Fine! You are a genius!"

"Now compliment my sexual prowess again," I said with a lopsided grin.

"You are insufferable!" Grima laughed, getting up and slapping me on the shoulder.

"Ow! Hey, I'm injured here!" I laughed as well.

Grima knelt down beside the bed, both of us laughing softly for another few moments, my own laughter weak and breathy next to Grima's throaty chuckle. Not surprisingly, I couldn't help but notice that she sounded just like Robin. It was easy to overlook when she was speaking; her tone and inflection, her speech patterns, everything about how she spoke was so different from Robin, but her laughter, her cries during orgasm, her small, tired sighs…

Yes, I knew what Robin's orgasm cries sounded like before tonight. We'd always been camped pretty close together in the army, after all, and sometimes you can't help but hear that shit.

Once silence reigned again, I noticed Grima's shoulders still occasionally fidgeting, her head low and her face hidden in the darkness.

"You okay?" I asked.

There was a pregnant pause, and I wondered if she'd try to play it off. Hell, I actively hoped she'd try to play it off like I had, but…

"I almost killed you," she repeated, her voice rough.

I sighed out my nose, rolling my eyes. With great difficulty I raised my hand and let it rest atop Grima's head, rubbing small, comforting strokes along her hair.

"I'm not dead, though," I pointed out. "We tested a hypothesis, it worked. We know it works, Grima. You don't have to kill to feed. We just have to figure out how to moderate how much you take."

"But what if I kill you?" she asked, sniffling.

"You won't," I assured her. "And I base that on absolutely nothing, just a gut feeling."

Grima chuckled a little, shaking her head beneath my hand.

"Yes, I suppose if it were that easy to kill you, I'd have done it years ago," she smiled.

"Right back at you," I laughed, still feeling weak. "Now, give me my pants, please. This blanket sucks and it's making my junk itchy. Gonna end up with a rash or some such shit."

Grima laughed, shaking her head as she reached behind herself to grab my carefully folded pants. I nodded my thanks and pulled them on under the blanket, deciding I'd just free-ball until morning.

Wouldn't be the first time…

As I pulled on the pants, I used the movement to scoot to one side, freeing up a sizeable portion of bed. As I was easily half again the size of Grima in my shoulders alone, it only made about a third of the bed empty, but considering we'd just been makin' the beast with two backs, I clearly wasn't bothered about getting close to her. Grima watched, subdued, a small frown alighting on her features.

"What?" I asked. "I'm not sleeping on the floor."

Grima hesitated for a moment before sitting on the edge of the bed, hesitating and looking down again. I grunted and rolled my eyes, using the last of my strength to reach up. Grima let out a small squeak as I wrapped my arm around her middle, just under her breasts, and dragged her back down to the bed with me. Then, I threw one leg out and dragged her own around so she was laying the same way I was. She went rigid with shock, making my job a little easier as I manhandled her into a comfortable position.

She didn't even have time to protest before I was wrapped around her, my head resting on her shoulder this time. I will admit, I wasn't used to being in this position; I was usually the one being the cuddler, the big spoon, all that. But, drastic times call for drastic measures, so…

"What are you…!?" Grima half-laughed, half-shouted.

"Shhhh! You'll bug the other guests!" I stage whispered.

Grima lay there for a moment before she began to chuckle, her tense posture relaxing as she twisted and turned in my embrace, until her legs were entwined with mine, her breath tickling the top of my head as she pushed my face into her boobs and wrapped her arms around my shoulders.

Instantly I was assailed by a scent that was familiar, yet not. You don't get as close to someone as Robin and I had been and not know what they smell like, and while this was similar to the scent that was so utterly Robin it almost brought tears to my eyes, it was different. There was an underlying acrid hint to Grima's body, like the burned ozone smell that Tharja left in her wake on the battlefield. It was the smell of Dark Magic, and combined with Robin's body odor it was intoxicating.

"I can't breathe like this," I said, my voice nasal, muffled by her breasts.

"You chose this position," Grima chuckled, her hold only tightening.

"Fine then. Be like that," I groused, burrowing my face deeper into her cleavage.

"Shut up and sleep," Grima murmured into the top of my head, her warm breath an odd combination of tickling and pleasant against my scalp. "And… thank you."

"Hey, you came on to me," I reminded her, smirking into her chest.

I didn't so much hear Grima laugh this time as I felt it, her whole body vibrating against mine a few times as the hazy pall of sleep began to drag us down.

"Get some rest," I told her, my hand gently stroking her back.

Grima hummed an agreement against my scalp, and I could already feel her relaxing against me. She must have been exhausted from sitting up, watching over me, I reasoned. Closing my eyes, I settled in for being incredibly stiff and sore in the morning from this awkward position.

Still, we both woke with smiles on our faces. Even though we both complained about how sore our backs were.

"So, have you given any thought to what our next destination may be?"

"Nope. Honestly, I was to busy going 'holy shit tits' to really think about anything else."

Grima scoffed, shaking her head to hide her smile. "Well, should we not think of something?"

"Whole world's open to us," I shrugged. "We can do whatever we want."

"I… want to do it all," Grima said, not even trying to hide her smile this time.

We were sitting in the room of the inn, the window open to allow the bright sunlight and cool spring air in, our stomachs full of the same stew we'd eaten the night before. Grima was again sitting at the desk, while I reclined on the bed, playing absently with my empty bowl. It was my second one, too; after Grima had 'drained' me last night, I'd woken up fucking starving.

Now we were trying to answer the dreaded question 'what next?'

Grima crossed her legs, resting her elbow on her knee and leaning forward to perch her chin in her palm as she smiled at me. In the sunlight the red markings on her cheeks were striking against her pale flesh, and it was somewhat surprising that the innkeeper hadn't said anything about them the previous night.

"Well?" she prompted.

I let a deep breath out through my nose as I stood, stretching and placing the empty bowl I'd been playing with in her own. I looked out the window, taking a deep breath of the crisp morning air, watching the townspeople going about their lives beneath us, the birds flitting through the air, and…

"Nope, fuck it," I declared.

I spun on my heel, flopping back into bed and rolling until I was wrapped in the blankets.

"I… am a burrito. Burritos don't worry about the future," I said, staring straight ahead.

Grima actually snorted before she burst out laughing, rocking back and forth in her seat as I grinned at the wall.

"Ah, you humans never cease to entertain me," she sighed, wiping a tear out of her eye.

"You're human now, too, remember?" I said, quirking a brow.

"Oh? What's this 'too' business?" Grima asked with a sly look.

She rose languidly to her feet, stretching a little herself before taking the two steps to kneel on the bed, crawling towards me on her knees with a lascivious grin on her face.

"I thought you were a burrito," she all but purred, leaning down towards me.

I opened my mouth to respond, the witty comment about 'wanting to be the meat in her taco' I'd been planning to make, to keep the Mexican food theme going, dying in my throat as Grima leaned the rest of the way down and caught me with a hot, tongue-filled kiss.

I froze for a second in surprise before leaning up into the kiss, our tongues flitting across each other lightly as Grima hummed a little.

Then, to my great irritation, she pulled back with a wide grin on her face.

"Burritos don't get kisses," she said.

"You are mean," I grumbled.

"I know," she said, uncaring.

"Fine, fuck ya, I won't go full burrito," I scowled, muttering darkly and crawling out of the blankets. "We bone once and suddenly you're all confident-sexy and already got me wrapped around your little finger… fucking bullshit story of my life…"

Grima scooted back a little to give me space, smirking in amusement as she watched my grumbling, fumbling and flopping as I tried to untangle myself from the blanket cocoon. Going burrito was easy… coming back from burrito, that was the trick.

Finally, I huffed and sat atop the bed with my back resting against the wall, frowning expectantly at Grima.

"There, happy now?"

Grima nodded, smiling brightly. "Yes. Now, what were we going to do next?"

"I have got absolutely no idea," I sighed.

"Admittedly, neither do I," Grima said, her smile fading a little.

We sat in silence for a moment, both of us staring into space as we got lost in our own thoughts. I didn't even know what I wanted to do. The first time I'd come to Ylisse I'd been too caught up in the fantasy of having whichever Awakening waifu I'd wanted for myself (and how well that had ended up…). Then grim reality had set in, and I'd gotten stuck with responsibility and having to save the world, and… now that I had a second chance, I had no idea where to start.

I glanced up, Grima's brow furrowed slightly as she stared down at the rumpled bedsheets, no doubt thinking thoughts similar to my own.

With a heaving sigh I pushed myself up and slid off the bed, reaching for the empty bowls sitting on the table.

"Those are empty," Grima pointed out without looking up.

"I am aware," I shot back. "I'll bring them back down to the kitchen."

"That seems… out of character for you," she said, glancing up at me.

"I was also gonna see if they had any wine I could pilfer," I shrugged. "I'm way too sober to be thinking about heavy shit like this."

"There we go," Grima chuckled. "Well, better get two, then. I have yet to experience the intoxication you humans seem so fond of."

I rolled my eyes. "Again, 'Raven', you're human right now, too."

Grima smiled widely again, reaching both hands up to me.

"Yes, and as a human I've become particularly enamored with physical affection," she said, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.

I rolled my eyes again, but shuffled over to the bed and leaned down. Grima wrapped her arms around the back of my neck, gently drawing me down for another kiss as I slid my free hand around her back, holding her with my hand splayed between her shoulder blades. Grima hummed happily as we kissed, a far less amorous one than the one she'd lured me out of my blanket-cocoon with, before I leaned back.

"Happy now?" I repeated.

"Very," she sighed. "Although I will require you do this again when you return."

"My life is yours," I smirked. "Apparently. Now, will you let me go so I can get rid of these bowls? I'll never stop being hungry if I can still smell the stew."

Grima chuckled, beaming as she waved me off.

I slowly made my way back to the kitchen downstairs, keenly aware that there was no longer any reason to rush. Ambling into the kitchen, I set the bowls aside to be cleaned and snagged a breadroll off the plate sitting on the counter. The kitchen was wide and open, but mostly deserted at this time of the morning; breakfast was already done and served, most of the dishes already cleaned. It was actually pretty rare to find an inn that fed its guests like this in the bigger cities, but in a small town on a busy trade route it wasn't as surprising. Most inns were just rooms, but in a town like Webrook there wasn't really a lot of people to do everything; most of the villagers would be farmers, people who couldn't abandon their properties to travel and take an apprenticeship as an innkeeper or a chef.

Just as I reached the pantry where I could have sworn I'd seen the familiar glint of green glass wine bottles the night before, the old innkeeper came into the kitchen with a tray of dirty mugs and plates. He stopped when he spotted me, and I offered him a brief nod of greeting.

"Morning," I said neutrally.

"Mornin'," the old man huffed, setting the tray down.

As soon as his back was turned I stuffed the rest of the bread roll into my mouth, chewing furiously. The old man gave a small chuckle, glancing up at me and stroking his beard.

"I don't mind that you're eating my breakfast, boy," he said. "From the looks of it, you and that girl need it more than me."

I smiled apologetically.

"Sorry, feels like I haven't eaten in forever," I said. "I appreciate your hospitality."

"I appreciate your gold," he old man shot back.

"That gold gonna make you look the other way while a couple bottles of wine disappear?" I asked, quirking a brow.

"Pah, mercenaries," the old man scoffed. "If they ain't vinegar yet you just take em. They're local, though, so they're probably not as good as something you'd find in Ylisstol or Themis."

"Wine from Themis tastes like horse shit," I laughed, turning back to the pantry. "And Ylisstol wine is so watered down you may as well just drink juice. I prefer Feroxi drinks, personally."

"Well, hope it's up to your high standards," the old man said.

There was a small moment of silence as I pulled two of the bottles out, cracking one and taking a sniff to ensure it was still good. Satisfied, I replaced the cork and gave the old man another nod.

"Thanks," I said, making to leave.

"Ain't my place to ask, but…" he started, trailing off as I stopped in the middle of the room.

"No, she and I aren't married," I chuckled.

"Don't care about that," he chuckled, shaking his head. "The marks on the young lady's face. How long did the Grimleal have her?"

I froze, my face defaulting to my blank 'politician' expression.

"I'm sorry?" I said.

"We're close enough here to the border that we see it time to time," the old man explained, subconsciously wiping his hands down on his apron. "Mercenaries coming through, escorting freed slaves. They all usually got the Mark of Grima carved into 'em somewhere. First time I've ever seen it on someone's face, though."

"If you're worried about reprisal for harboring us…" I started.

"Bah! Don't insult me, ya brat!" the innkeeper snapped. "Far as I'm concerned all'a those sand rats can starve and burn in their desert! Bastards carving a pretty young thing like her up, it ain't right! Been gettin' worse lately, too. All these Plegian raiding parties, coming into Ylisse and stirring up trouble… someone gotta make 'em pay!"

"Well… okay then," I said slowly.

"We just heard her screamin' last night," he said, a knowing grin rising to his face. "And I mean we heard her screamin' after the fun the two of you had. Figured she might be having nightmares or something."

I nodded, moving to cross my arms and remembering I was still carrying two bottles. I set them down on the counter, my hands lingering around the bottles' necks. I couldn't really tell the old man the truth, but… he'd been unduly kind to us, and he hadn't raised a stink about the loud sex, so…

"They had her all her life," I said, opting for the truth, from a certain point of view. "Her mother gave her life to get her free the first time, which was when we met. Then when she got taken again, I… went to get her."

"Sounds rough," the old man said, hobbling towards me.

I nodded, my gaze dropping. "It was hell."

I winced a little as the old man clapped me on the shoulder.

"You're a good man," he said.

"I'm not that good," I scoffed.

"You want any more of that wine, help yourself," the old man said, ambling past me. "Helps take the sting out of it. I know."

With that, he left me alone in the kitchen with the wine. I contemplated going back for another couple of bottles, but decided against it. If this really was going to be a second chance for me, then there were some mistakes I wasn't really in the mood to repeat this time.

"So. We have a problem," I said upon reentering the room Grima and I were sharing.

Grima glanced up from where she was reclining on the bed, sitting up a little in alarm.

"No, nothing that pressing," I said.

She relaxed again as I crossed the small room, placing the bottles on the table.

"Well? What is the problem?" Grima insisted.

"Ylisse and Plegia are about to go to war, remember?" I told her flatly.

"Oh. Oh… right. That did happen, didn't it?" she said softly.

I turned a little, tossing the bottle I hadn't opened onto the bed to land next to her before taking the open bottle and sitting at the chair. I didn't take a drink from it yet, though.

"Yeah, it did," I said. "And funnily enough, it slipped both our minds. But after that, there's another war."

"With Valm this time," Grima nodded. "I know. I remember."

"So we're kind of in a bad place if we want to be kicking back and relaxing," I pointed out.

Grima sat in silence, picking up the bottle and fidgeting restlessly with it for a few moments before speaking again.

"What do you suggest we do about it?" Grima asked slowly.

"I don't know," I shrugged. "Way I see it, we run and hide, or we try to stop all of it. Both options are perfectly viable. The north-east corner of Regna Ferox was totally untouched by any of the warring; we go up there, deal with a few bandits and keep our heads down, we should be ignored until the warring period is over in about five years."

"That seems like a long time to squat in some Feroxi shack while we wait for things to blow over," Grima sniffed. "And how would we stop the wars?"

"Well, you are Grima," I shrugged. "All we'd have to do is go to Plegia, bitch-slap Validar and maybe Gangrel and that's one war down. Then, I dunno, send troops with Ylisse to Valm and the fighting never reaches us."

"But then they know we're… I'm alive," Grima frowned.

"Alive and sentient, capable of making your own decisions," I told her. "Take an anti-war stance. Point out that a war between Ylisse and Plegia would be disastrous for both sides. Talk them down, turn Plegia into the mercantile power-house we both know it has the potential to be."

I finally took a swig from the wine bottle, pleasantly surprised at the sweet, fruity flavor.

"This is, of course, all hypothetical," I shrugged. "Those are just the two options I came up with on the way back up the stairs. I'm sure there's dozens more options."

Grima nodded and smirked a little, though the furrow in her brow didn't leave as she popped the cork on her own bottle and took a swig. She pulled the bottle away, her eyes wide with surprise now.

"This is quite delightful," she said.

"I know, I wasn't expecting it, either," I agreed. "I'm thinking about taking a few bottles with us when we leave."

Grima nodded and sat back against the wall like I had been, her face taking on a sour expression.

"So we are reduced to playing the same part as the Naga-spawned brat?" she huffed.

"Lucina? No, not necessarily," I shrugged. "We have foreknowledge. Doesn't mean we have to do anything with it. I'm more than happy going anonymous in some village somewhere for a few years while they all fight it out. Only difference this time is Ylisse won't get me, and Plegia won't get you. So Luce'll have wasted a trip."

Grima took another long sip from her wine.

"How would we 'stop the war', as you put it?" she asked. "Just march into Gangrel's throne room, throw some magic around and tell him to stop?"

"Yeah, that's basically what I was thinking," I nodded. "Why? You thinking about it?"

"I'm not sure," Grima admitted.

"Well, if we did go that route then at least we'd get to live it up a little," I smirked. "Goddess treatment, all the way, from the Plegians."

"You have been thinking about this, haven't you?" Grima asked with a pout.

"No, I'm thinking it out as I talk," I laughed. "There'd be plenty of downsides, too, of course, but if you wanted to change things then taking over Plegia would put you in the best position to do it."

Grima made a thoughtful sound, leaning back.

"And you?" she asked. "What do you think?"

"I don't rightly care," I scoffed. "I already gave my life to you, didn't I? Take responsibility for your pet."

Grima glared at me over the rim of the bottle she was holding to her lips, one perfect eyebrow quirking.

Famous last words, those.

AN: Yes, yes, I'm a day late. Sorry, life got in the way. Had a big week at work, and all I could think about when I got home last night was sleep. This was kind of a slower, bridging chapter. Stuff is gonna start happening again next chapter. Sexy stuff. Look forward to it!

Follow me on twitter to find out how you can support my work! -metalloverwrite

There's a Discord channel you can join to chat, too! It's pretty chill, but it's hella fun.

Check it all out, links are all on my bio page! Thanks for reading, and Nagaspeed!