AN: This has been my passion project since about the beginning of this month, and I'm proud to finally get it out. Special thanks to Herodadotus, for acting as my Beta Reader. His lack of criticism was both very encouraging and not necessarily always helpful. Less special thanks to Longherin's Self Insert Number a Bajillion for slightly inspiring some of the style of this fic, as well as Nonjon's A Black Comedy for inspiring one scene in particular. You know which one.
To call Grima's sealing a slumber would not be inaccurate. Of course, it wouldn't be the full truth either. Grima's sealing was, above all else, a contradiction. He was both dreamless and lucid, somewhat aware of the world but wholly unaware of the passage of time.
Which is why it was both startling and relieving when Grima suddenly became aware. He felt cold air on his skin (his human skin). He opened his eyes and saw nothing but a blur of colors. Unacceptable.
He called upon his strength, his limitless pools of power, to reinforce this (clearly defective) new body. And he found nothing. Impossible. He let loose a snarl (and was his hearing also faulty?) and pulled deeper, with all his considerable willpower. A small trickle of power answered his call. He will have his revenge for this defective vessel later, for now, that paltry amount was enough for him.
He reinforced his eyes and simultaneously expanded his magical senses outward, and he saw the culprits. A woman with long white hair, and an emaciated-looking man with sunken eyes and black hair. Both had an extraordinary concentration of his blood, enough to be Major. Before he could memorize their faces (for revenge), he noticed something. He was in the body of an infant.
His plans for revenge were put on hold. This vessel wasn't faulty, it was merely new (not much better). How? How did his followers manage to create a body that could hold his being as an infant!? If one of them suggested such a thing before his sealing, he would have turned them to ash for daring to have such an idiodic idea. The fact that this vessel had handled any of his power in such a state without ripping itself apart was frankly a miracle. He was going to have to rip the knowledge of this process out of their heads before he kills them (once this form gains enough power).
After Grima had been in this new vessel for 3 years, he learned something both troubling and amusing (he would never admit that it took a year for him to learn enough of the modern tongue to understand those around him). Ylisse's exalt had declared war on Plegia, rallying his people around the idea of "preventing Grima's resurrection". How amusing. And (slightly) concerning. This current form of his couldn't handle enough of his power to survive a confrontation with the Exalt (and Grima was not going to allow himself to be sealed again).
Luckly (for her survival), the woman, Morgana, seemed to realize this as well, so in the dead of night she took him and attempted to flee (holding him against her shoulder). It was a shame for her that Validar (the man) took issue with this, and so a duel broke out. They flung insults as readily as fire, and it amused Grima greatly. However, they seemed evenly matched. Morgana could not land a hit on Validar, and Validar's spells seemed ineffective against Morgana. Even with his power hindered by his form, Grima had enough influence over the blood contained within them (his blood) that he could choose a winner. But who to choose?
The woman was clearly more sensible, but the man seemed to be the mastermind behind his re-birth. Seeming to hear his thoughts, Validar sent a ruin far too close to Grima for comfort (he would die for that). Grima reached out to Morgana's blood, and pushed. With a burst of power, she overwhelmed Validar (not killing him, but stunning him), and ran, whispering words of comfort that Grima couldn't care about.
When Grima was 6, he found himself growing fond of Morgana. She was teaching him, but knew better than to dare act condescending towards him (and he would never admit this, but the lessons on reading and writing were actually useful, as the language had changed a substantial amount over the thousand years Grima had been sealed). Even if she was convinced his name was Robin, of all things (really? A bird?).
Perhaps he would spare her alongside the printing press when he regained his true power. Ah, the printing press. While he was initially furious to discover that it (of all things) had survived his initial rise, he actually realized that it was a blessing in disguise, as it allowed for books that would otherwise be too unimportant to be printed to exist. For example, books on how to read and write. Amusingly (he found himself amused more often as of late), light magic as an art did not survive his rise, but the printing press did.
When Grima was 10, the war ended because Exalt Cornelius had a heart attack and died. Grima almost choked from laughter when he heard the news. His mot-Morgana was less amused. "Why aren't you happy? The war is over, and that pathetic worm got an equally pathetic end."
"Well", said Morgana, "I'm not happy because Validar will take this opportunity to gain more power and influence in Plegia."
And that was enough to bring Grima's glorious mood down to normal.
When Grima was 14, his power returned to him enough that he could begin his reign again if he wanted to. And yet, for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to leave Morgana to do so. Was it her cooking? Her lessons on tactics? Her subtle yet delightful insults towards Validar? Grima didn't know. And that confused him.
Grima turned 18 later this month. He had, a few years ago, decided to wait for Morgana to die of old age before turning the world to ash. He supposed that was weakness, but it was hard to care. He had grown truly fond of mother, (and that was almost fine by him).
Grima awoke on his birthday knowing that something was terribly wrong. His mother's magic signature was erratic, and more importantly, there were others in the house. He reached his magic out, and warped to his mother's side just to see an assassin slit her throat.
What was this feeling? Sadness, hatred, fear? That one is familiar. Hatred. He reached out his hand and surrounded the nearest assassin (the one with blood on his hands) with a cloud of Goetia, and turned to the others.
"I find myself feeling something new. I am not happy with this feeling, so I will only say this once. Tell me who sent you, and your deaths will be swift."
One assassin (dead man) responded, daring to sound amused, "Really, Robin? Is it not obvious? Your father has sent us to bring you home."
Grima closed his fist, the spell collapsing inwards, causing the head of his mother's killer to explode into a fine mist. He snarled, and let his power fill the room. "You will all die. Slowly. Worms like you deserve to become ash."
As Grima left his now burning home, he reflected on what to do next. Validar, clearly, must die. (But death alone isn't enough.) Grima will tear down everything Validar has ever worked for. He will destroy the grimleal and see Plegia defeated. And only when Validar understands that everything he has strived for has ended in failure, will Grima end his life.
But, perhaps there is a poetic way to ensure this. Ah, yes. What is that saying? "The enemy of my enemy is my friend." And Grima knows who the enemy of Plegia is. He let his face stretch into a wide, toothy grin. What was that group called again? The shepherds.
It was surprisingly hard to track down the shepherds. Of course, Grima hadn't actually tracked them down for certain, but looking at the smoke rising out of Southtown, he is certain he is correct on this guess. He hears laughter in the distance and draws his sword (steel, of course). It's time to meet destiny.
Perhaps Grima was too hasty in this course of action. That isn't to say he failed, far from it, as 'Robin' was the new tactician for the Shepherds. But Chrom was so young (even if he was only a year younger than 'Robin'). And, more importantly, Falchion no longer gleamed.
Perhaps the first Exalt did something more to Falchion to make it truly powerful, but as it stands, Grima isn't certain that Validar can be killed by such a blade. (For all that Validar failed to harm Morgana, it wasn't a result of him being weak, rather Validar clearly under-powered his spells to avoid harming Grima.) And of course Grima could easily kill Validar himself, but having Chrom do it seems so much more poetic.
Grima was hesitating. He was standing outside the Exalt's throne room, having been invited to enter (and wasn't that a funny turn of events) and yet he was hesitating. It wasn't that he was scared, per se, but more that Exalt Emmeryn clearly must be powerful. He could feel the strength of her Naga blood from the moment they entered Ylisstol, and when he entered the palace, he almost thought Tiki was standing before him. Even that damnable First Exalt didn't have blood this potent (and how was thateven possible?).
Even if Fred (and how Frederick hated it when Grima decided to call him that) had called her 'a symbol of peace', that didn't calm Grima's nerves. After all, you can be a symbol of peace by destroying anything that threatens that peace.
When the door was thrown open and a blonde head of hair bounded out, Grima flinched. Lissa found that reaction very funny.
"Pfffttt. You really that nervous? Come on, Robin! Don't be shy! Come oonnnnn!"
Grima wasn't ready, but the choice seemed to have been taken out of his hands. There was Emmeryn, looking down at him with a serene smile like her very presence doesn't make him want to destroy the entire room (a reaction Grima would pretend never happened, as that would imply that she made him panic). Grima had to avoid flinching when Emmeryn spoke.
"Ah, welcome. I've heard nothing but sterling praise from Chrom. He says you have earned his faith, and as such you have mine as well."
Grima bowed, shoving down his panic before speaking. "Milady."
What the hells was that? Grima was supposed to convince her of his importance, not say a single word like a pathetic simpleton. And Lissa was approaching him yet again, with a shit-eating grin. "I think that's our cue, Robin! C'mon, there's a place I want to show you."
Convincing Chrom not to act as Flavia's champion gave Grima a headache, but it was worth it. Chrom had just fought at the Longfort after marching there. While his Naga-enhanced body was more durable than a normal human's, even Chrom had limits. Of course, Grima might not have argued if he knew that he would have to take Chrom's place.
And he wasn't allowed to maim his opponent! Terrible news. He was looking forward to letting off some steam, but instead he had to defeat some Chon'sinian man without even blasting away a leg or two. (Not that Grima had gone all-out since meeting Chrom, but even holding back he still took limbs easily.) Chrom had better be grateful enough to kill Validar.
Returning to find that Plegia had kidnapped some noble lady, while not expected, wasn't really off putting to Grima. What worried him far more was Exalt Emmeryn asking to 'parley' with Validar's puppet. Her turning Gangrel into ash, while satisfying, wouldn't let Grima drag out Plegia's fall nearly enough. So, he needed to find some way to keep her from unleashing her power without drawing attention to himself. (Part of Grima suggested sending Fred to try to seduce the Exalt and keep her distracted, but clearly someone of her power wouldn't fall for such base tactics.)
Grima looked up at Plegia's main lines, and saw the distraction he needed. He turned to his assistant in-training (as of a few hours ago), and said, "Ricken. You studied the tactical manuals I gave you, correct?"
The young mage paused, startled. "Well, I got about halfway through the first one, but they are quite dense." Good enough. Grima told him to "hold the line until I return", and moved towards the cliffside. Using a trick he learned from mother, he propelled himself up the cliff in a few moments, landing by the noblewoman. (A simple Elwind modification, but one that Grima may never have found on his own.)
The guards around her quickly raised their weapons, but they were pathetically slow compared to Grima, and with yet another modified Elwind, they were all legless and the noble was unharmed, if a bit dirtier. Whatever reaction Grima was expecting, the lady didn't give it, instead huffing and speaking out haughtily, "Honestly, couldn't you have found a less bloody way to resolve that? I spent quite a bit of effort keeping this dress clean, and now that was all wasted."
Grima couldn't help but laugh at her audacity. Although he could agree with the sentiment, as getting blood out of his cloak required a specialized spell. Perhaps he should keep an eye on her if she continued to be this amusing. (The battle had begun around them, and while Ricken was doing acceptably, Grima could do better.) He turned back to the woman. "Let us rejoin the battle before the tides turn against us, Lady..?"
The woman nodded. "Maribelle, and I suppose we should."
The battle ended in Ylisse's victory, of course. It was only to be expected that Grima's chosen army be victorious. What was less expected was Maribelle walking up to him after the battle was over and he was pouring over some notes.
"Ah, Robin! I've come to offer my thanks for saving me from those Plegians earlier."
Grima simply nodded his head in acknowledgement, before moving to turn the page he was on.
"Ah, are you reading? I wasn't aware the lowborn read at all!" Grima paused. That brought up something he hadn't thought about.
"Would I even count as lowborn? Or would I count as part of the clergy? Do the clergy count as nobles? Is the Grimleal's status even honored here?"
Maribelle (comically) almost tripped in surprise. "What? I'm sorry, I must have misheard you. Can you repeat that?"
Grima continued his thought, ignoring Maribelle."Well, my mother was a high ranking member of the Grimleal, and the other one is currently the Hierophant, so I'd probably count as part of the Grimleal currently."
Maribelle was trapped somewhere between horrified and confused, and she wasn't afraid to show it. "I'm sorry, but you're part of the Grimleal!?"
Grima shrugged. "Maybe. I could be considered ethnically Grimleal, if you consider the Grimleal to have their own distinct ethnic group (which his mother did). I suppose there are some traits that are considered exclusive to the Grimleal, like white hair. But I never was officially made a member, and my mother was excommunicated."
Maribelle glanced at Grima's white hair before humming. "I'm not certain of the status of Grimleal here in Ylisse. That is something for me to look into."
Grima shrugged again, now thoroughly bored of the conversation. "You do that."
Grima paused mid-step. Something was wrong. He extended his magical sensors out and found wave after wave of his own power (to counter Emmeryn's blood?) coming from… Validar. What was that sack of dead meat doing in the palace? (Nevermind, it's obvious.)
Should he let Validar and Emmeryn kill each other? (No.) Validar hadn't nearly suffered enough to die yet. Should he let the Exalt die? No, that would make this war far closer than Grima was comfortable with. Grima suddenly had an idea. While Validar was using his Major Blood to counter the Exalt's own blood, Grima could take advantage as well. After all, if his own power is filling an area, it would be impossible for anyone to detect an additional surge of it (as long as he was careful).
Grima reached into his wells of power, and then outward into the energy flying from Validar. He let the two mingle and become indistinguishable, before summoning a large number of thanatophages. The pile of purple insects was quickly shaped into a form not seen in a thousand years, and Grina grinned. This particular Risen was one of his favorites, more intelligent than normal at the cost of some durability.
Simia turned to face him, eyes glowing a deep red, and Grima spoke. "Go. Wake the Shepherds. Gather the guards. Rout the invaders. Let only the leader escape."
Simia answered, sounding hoarse and unhealthy (a trait Grima never bothered trying to fix, as it was decently intimidating to the unprepared). "I OBEY."
Grima's grin fell as Simia vanished into the depths of the palace. He sighed, realizing what his decision to protect Emmeryn would mean, before turning towards the direction of her room, and sprinting ahead. (No Grimleal may be allowed close to the Exalt, even if it means sacrificing his chance to taunt Validar.)
Standing outside of the Exalt's room while Chrom and Lissa fawned over her and Miriel harassed (inspected) Simia, Grima wondered when this became his new normal. Sure, he got to kill a decent number of Grimleal, but, like he predicted, Validar fled before reaching him. Phila was cleaning her spear, having been roused by Simia alongside the remaining guards.
Emmeryn exited her room, flanked by her (still worried) siblings. Interestingly enough, it seems that Validar didn't entirely fail, as her blood seemed almost subdued (not weaker, but far more contained, no longer filling the entire room with her power). It made Grima feel far more comfortable being this close to her.
Comfortable enough to speak up when he heard the idea of her evacuating to the Eastern Palace brought up. "Milady, I can't say enough how much I do not recommend that idea. The Eastern Palace, while remote, is isolated enough that reinforcements will be unable to aid you when the Plegian army inevitably finds it. And they will find it, do not be mistaken."
Phila, (out of pride or some misplaced desire to defend her liege) spoke up angrily, "And what would you propose her highness do instead? Remain in a compromised castle? Flee to Ferox and leave her people behind?"
Grima wasn't convinced by her (frankly pathetic) arguments. "While it is true that the main palace itself is compromised, Ylisstol as a whole stands strong. Its grain silos are full, and its walls are well maintained. There is no place south of the Longfort as well suited for this war."
Phila looked like she was sucking on a lemon. "While the city itself is secure on a large scale, her grace is but one woman, and it is far easier to strike a single target than to siege a city. Where could she remain that could prevent this?"
Grima nodded, having expected this to be brought up. "I am aware. Which is why I spoke to Miriel beforehand, and she offered a suitable location."
Miriel (seemingly instantly) stopped harassing Simia and butted in. "Indeed. The necessity for a suitably fortified location was one that I was made aware of and, as such, I have surveyed such a location: The Magic College of Ylisstol."
At this, Emmeryn furrowed her brow. "Forgive me, but how is the Magic College a suitable location? It is built for study, not defense."
Miriel's glasses gleamed ominously. "On first viewing, you would be correct, however magic is not a simple subject to study. Destructive accidents are practically guaranteed, no matter what field of magical study is chosen. The builders were aware of this, and it was excessively sturdy when first erected, however such a state pales in comparison to its current resilience. For a thousand years, new students have passed through the college, each damaging and wearing down its walls. In response, the walls have been enchanted, and those enchantments have been torn down or repaired, and new enchantments have been placed upon those, in a cycle that has not stopped once. In fact, for a student of the college to be given the rank of master in enchanting, they are required to place a new permanent enchantment upon the college without disturbing any of the others whatsoever. In total, 943 masteries in enchanting have been awarded by the college. There is even an old rumor that the college will still be standing even after Ylisstol's outer wall has been eroded into nothingness ten times over. While exaggerated, there is certainly some truth to such a statement."
Even Phila could not argue with such an assessment, so plans were quickly drawn up for Emmeryn to lodge within the college. As they were, Grima noticed an odd presence approaching, which quickly resolved into an old, priestly looking man who quickly raised complaints about that idea. For a supposed man of Naga's faith, there was something oddly… Grimleal… to his presence. (Ah, so that's how the Grimleal infiltrated so efficiently.)
Grima moved forward, and with a simple flux, blasted the man's right knee into pieces. Phila reacted, turning her spear towards Grima, while Chrom held it down while looking accusingly at him. Grima reached into the (now sobbing) man's pocket, and pulled out an amulet with his symbol on it. (Such an outdated way of marking a spy, but the Grimleal were always a bit old fashioned.)
As the accusations turned upon the traitorous priest, Grima prepared to return to his office (to make plans for the war. Ferox would need to be coordinated with, perhaps they could lure the Plegian army to Ylisstol and encircle them?), Chrom turned to him with a confused look on his face. "What's the deal with Simia? She came out of nowhere, only yells, and doesn't seem to bleed."
Grima, (having not slept since the border incident and approaching even his inhuman limits,) answered perhaps a bit too honestly with a simple: "Insect Golem."
"What?"
Being approached by Maribelle before reaching his office was not part of Grima's plans for the night. "Hierophant Validar."
If Grima had been drinking anything, that single sentence would have made him choke. "What?"
Maribelle repeated herself. "Hierophant Validar. That is your father's name, correct?"
Grima couldn't help the mix of emotions that crossed his face (disgust, amazement, hatred, surprise). "That is the name of the man that sired me, but I would never call him my father. He is more of a living corpse, only still moving because he doesn't yet realize that he is dead. How did you even find his name so quickly? Hierophants like to keep their true identities hidden."
Maribelle looked smug. "A lady has her ways. And after the last conversation we had, I did quite a bit of research. It turns out, there was an established placement for Grimleal in Ylisstol, but Exalt Cornelius ended that pact and ordered all Grimleal be killed on sight instead. Of course, that order is no longer in place, but there has yet to be an opportunity to re-establish the old rules."
While that was interesting, it certainly didn't actually answer Grima's question, but he figured the evasive answer was all he was likely to get without putting in far more effort than it was worth. Grima decided to give Maribelle some interesting information to see how she would react. "While that is interesting, I have a question for you. Did you manage to hear any descriptions of Validar while doing research?"
Maribelle kept the smug look on her face, but it was now joined by a furrowed brow (a combination that gave Grima a headache just to look at). "Only the smallest pieces of a description. Nothing to say whether or not you look like him."
"No, that's not why I'm asking." Grima almost sighed. "Did you get a good look at the leader of the invaders?"
Maribelle's smug look finally faded, and she now looked almost confused. "Only in passing. What does that have to do with…" she paused, and her realization was almost physical to Grima. "Ah. That was Validar, wasn't it?"
Grima, now feeling smug (how the tables turn) simply nodded.
Grima closed his eyes and counted to ten. He opened them, and despite his hopes, he wasn't hallucinating. Nowi was still there, standing in his tent, holding out a copy of Grima's Truth and looking beyond proud in herself.
Grima pinched the bridge of his nose and hoped that he at least misheard her. "I think I heard that incorrectly. Repeat what you just said."
Nowi beamed. "Of course! I said: 'Hey, could you sign your book for me, Grima?' and you closed your eyes!"
Grima knew that there was only one thing to do: damage control. While he could end her life with ease, if he failed to kill her instantly she would transform and the situation would rapidly escalate out of control (still, killing her would be a last resort). Grima made sure the privacy spell on his tent was still in place before speaking. "How did you find out? I'm skilled enough at suppressing my power that, even if you know what to look for, you should only see that I have 'Grima Blood'."
Nowi didn't recognize the danger she was in, or simply didn't care, and answered with a hop and a grin. "I could smell it!"
Grima's thoughts ground to a halt. She could smell his identity? (How in the hells does that work?) "Can you.. elaborate? What do you mean by 'smell it'?"
"Well, I dunno. How do you taste things? I can smell you because you have a smell!" Nowi nodded to herself and took a deep breath in. "Yup! You smell like The Risen, Darkness, and a bit of Nightshade! I know that's your smell because I remember it being everywhere 1,000 years ago!"
That wasn't a very helpful answer. Well, it did answer how she knew, but it also raised several other questions that were far less important. "Did you tell anyone else?"
Nowi shook her head. "Nope! I wasn't even sure until I got to our camp!"
Grima almost grinned. Finally, a useful answer. He was going to ask another question when Nowi interrupted. "So, can you sign the book now?"
He frowned. "For several reasons, no. For one, it's not 'my book'. I don't even know where you got that idea."
Nowi frowned as well. "It's not? But it's called 'Grima's Truth'. And! And and and! The Grimleal all call it your book and quote you from it!"
Grima reached out and snatched the book out of her hands, quickly skimming it. "Ahh. I see what's happened here. This is the book my first Hierophant was working on." Grima tossed it back to Nowi. "I would (generously) describe him as having been a half-mad zealot. Like most things he had anything to do with, that book is practically worthless to anybody but him, and he is very dead."
Nowi seemed only a little put-off by this answer. In fact, she giggled. "Oh wow, that's pretty funny! All those people running around preaching for you using a book you didn't write! That's great! Even if the book's pointless, I still have some questions for you! How old are you? Do you have parents? Why make a religion? Why are they called The Grimleal? Why are they called The Risen when they don't rise? Why-"
Grima cut her off before she could overwhelm him. "I'm around 3-4 thousand years old, but I have been sealed away twice. I had a mother. Don't call me Grima. Please leave."
Nowi nodded along before laughing. "Sure! I gotchu, 'Robin'. Wink."
She laughed again and ran out, leaving Grima confused and with the beginnings of a headache. (Did she say wink instead of winking?)
He sighed (a habit he really needed to get out of), before returning to the papers on his desk. He didn't get far when another person interrupted his privacy.
Maribelle walked into his tent, carrying a full tea set (not the first time she had done so, nor even the fifth). She set it down (on top of his paperwork), and poured herself a cup before asking. "Tea?"
Grima nodded, and she poured him a cup as well. It was strange how routine her visits had become. He would almost call them comfortable (not outloud). The list of people he would consider to be this comfortable was startlingly small (besides Maribelle, the list was really just his mother, and despite his damnable blood, Chrom).
Grima took a sip of his tea (he wasn't going to chug it around Maribelle again, the lecture was not worth it) and felt his headache begin to fade away. After only a short while, Maribelle set her cup down and broke the silence. "I'm sorry to say my visit today isn't only social. Today I heard the most terrible rumor about you."
Grima immediately guessed who spread the rumor and began to plan out a way for Nowi to 'accidentally' die in the next battle before motioning for Maribelle to continue. "I heard from a reliable and dear source" she paused and leaned forward almost conspiratorially, frowning, "that you have a romantic interest in Exalt Emmeryn."
Grima went completely still and tried (and failed) to keep his emotions off his face. Disgust, horror, confusion, (the acknowledgement that it likely wasn't Nowi so those plans can be scrapped), more disgust, and anger. "No. Absolutely not. What could have possibly inspired such an inane, insipid, idiotic idea?"
For some reason Maribelle looked relieved at that. "Well, Lissa seemed quite certain and had quite a few good points in favor of her idea." Shit. Lissa having spread the rumor meant violent retaliation was entirely off the table. Maribelle continued. "Lissa said you're unnaturally formal around Lady Emmeryn, that you never make eye contact with her, and finally, you've only spoken up against her once, while you were sleep-deprived and thus had less inhibitions."
Grima considered lying his ass off to deflect those statements, but (for some reason) he would feel bad doing so to Maribelle, so he decided to give half-truths instead. "Really, it's quite simple. I have a healthy deal of respect for her as Exalt (not untrue, although he really respects her patience in whatever schemes she has brewing), and…"
Grima considered ending it there, after all, there was no obligation for him to finish his thought. In fact, he could lie instead of saying what he was going to. (So why did that thought put such a bad taste in his mouth?) He decided to continue. "After I analyzed her magical power, I determined she has an extraordinarily large amount of power and that makes me nervous (true, if you slightly stretched the definitions of magical power and nervous)."
Maribelle nodded, as if such an answer was expected, and the two quickly fell into casual conversation, only interrupted by her giving a delayed (on purpose?) response to something Grima said earlier. "By the way, if you ever imply Lissa is an idiot again, I'll flay the skin from your bones."
As Grima bisected another Grimleal, he considered how utterly predictable Gangrel turned out to be. Despite the Shepherds and Flavia's army both shattering his supply lines in Plegia, he kept the bulk of his forces with himself to siege Ylisstol. (And now that decision had caused Gangrel to be trapped between Flavia to the west, Basilio to the northwest, and Ylisstol to the east.)
Of course, it's not like the Grimleal would make an effort to change his mind, (Sumia was now over-extended, so Grima shouted out some orders to shift about the lines and ensure her safety), as they were under the impression that large amounts of bloodshed were required to 'awaken their god'.
Frankly, he was almost glad his ex-followers were so incompetent, as it made his life much easier. (Speaking of the Grimleal) He stabbed another one, and was about to turn a normal soldier into ash when they dropped their spear and blubbered something about surrendering.
Right, Emmeryn was up on the outer wall, enhancing her voice to carry across the battlefield and ranting about how the Plegian army should 'surrender and end the bloodshed' and 'no harm will come to those who do'. How annoying. (Hold on, did Chrom just recruit a member of the Grimleal mid-battle?) At least it helped drown out Gangrel's shrill laughter as the man sliced through Feroxi grunts like paper. Grima was starting to get a headache from the laughter, and was seriously debating personally killing the mad king, when he saw something more important.
Flying nearby was Validar's newest pawn, that white-haired woman who's name Grima could barely remember (Luna? Asymptomatic? Traverse?). And my, that was an impressive number of memory curses on her, and each one had Validar's (non-literal, as he wasn't Nowi) scent on them. Grima let a vicious grin spread across his face. Anything Validar doesn't want a pawn to remember is clearly good news for him (if only he could sense Validar himself on the battlefield, that would truly make this day wonderful). After shouting out some new orders to the Shepherd, Grima began to make his way towards the pawn (so he could ruin yet another of Validar's plans).
That, Grima thought, was quite an eventful battle. Breaking the curses on Aversa turned her against Validar (not quite what Grima expected, but still worthwhile), so letting her live was an easy choice. Chrom almost split Gangrel in half with that spinning thing he sometimes does, and large swathes of the remaining Plegian army surrendered after that.
Of course, now things were far less interesting. Flavia had run off to harass the remaining Plegian generals about their gold, and Sumia was currently getting proposed to by Chrom. There was crying and Lissa looked elated, so Sumia had probably said yes (or Lissa was even stranger than Grima thought).
Having Maribelle approach him with an expectant look on her face did make the day seem more promising (although, what was she expecting? A standing ovation? She was competent in the battle, but her performance wasn't that good.).
When Maribelle made a few significant glances at Chrom and Sumia, Grima followed her gaze and saw them making out. "I'm not sure what you expect me to do about that, but I'm certainly not joining in."
Maribelle sputtered and turned red. "You are most certainly not interrupting this moment for them!" Maribelle sighed and spoke at a much quieter level (likely not intending for Grima to hear, but his advanced hearing made that moot). "I don't know why I expected anything different from him. It's a good thing I prepared for this." Maribelle then stepped closer to Grima and motioned towards the couple. "Does seeing Chrom give Sumia a ring give you any ideas? Any inspired thoughts?"
Grima paused. What was she going on about? "Why would Chrom's future wedding give me any ideas?"
Maribelle sighed heavily and stepped even closer to Grima (now within his personal space). She spoke softly. "You daft man. I suppose the impetus is on me, so here: I wish to spend the rest of my life with you. Now do you understand?"
Grima's mind ground to a halt. Marriage was something he had never considered before (and why would he, when so few humans were worth his effort, let alone something more). But.. looking at Maribelle, he didn't find the idea unappealing. He certainly trusted Maribelle enough to share a bed with her (he did?), but Morgana said that marriage was based on.. Love. Did he love Maribelle? Simply being near her made his heart race, but was that love?
There was something else Grima suddenly realized. Could he stand seeing Maribelle with someone else? No, he couldn't. Even if he didn't know if he truly loved her, that was enough for him to…
Blood rushed to his cheeks and he grabbed Maribelle's hands with his own (something Sumia's books said was romantic). "I cannot believe that I am saying this, but I accept. I will stand by you, and protect you from all that would dare harm you. This, I swear." He would not fail Maribelle, not like he failed his mother.
Grima was excited to be Chrom's best man, but not for the reasons most would be. Certainly, it was a 'big honor' and a 'sign of immense trust', but really, Grima was looking forward to the speech he was expected to give.
After all, while the wedding was rushed (by Emmeryn, to use as a symbol of the new peace), there was still going to be a decent chunk of Ylisse's nobility present, and Grima was very excited to insult them all. Or at least, he was, but Maribelle (his fiancé!) cut out the vast majority of insults. Something about 'propriety' and 'truths better left unsaid'.
So Grima replaced his first wave of insults (except for the couple that his fiancé left untouched) with mostly backhanded compliments, which she also cut out. Finally, he had an excellent idea, and he used his best modern translations of 1,000 year old insults, which Maribelle let through with an (adorably) confused look on her face. Grima hopes at least one noble is well-versed enough in history to understand the insults, but he'll enjoy the wedding either way.
As Grima held his newborn son, he was overwhelmed. Joy, pride, glee, (the smug feeling that this child would likely be stronger than Validar at age 10 and would only grow from there), and parental love.
Of course, his son's name was already decided after brainstorming ideas with Maribelle (his wife!) far earlier in her pregnancy. Since the child was male, he was to be named Brady, after Maribelle's paternal grandfather. A girl would be named Morgan, after Grima's mother.
What was somewhat interesting to Grima was that Brady had inherited his draconic nature, something that Grima wasn't originally sure was possible. But that didn't change anything. Dragon or no, Brady was his son, and that's all that mattered.
Waging a battle in a burning Port Ferox was surprisingly nostalgic to Grima. Although, he did wonder how they caused so much fire considering how few mages this Valmese group brought.
Overall, Grima thought the battle went quite well for how little forewarning they had. Basilio's assessment seemed unnecessarily negative. Certainly, his army suffered disproportionately high casualties, but it also made up a large majority of the total troops fielded.
Honestly, Grima thought that Basilio's complaining might just be him looking for an excuse to wring Plegia dry (and Grima approved of the idea). The worst part of the situation was Chrom instantly forbidding Grima from meeting Plegia's new king in person, saying "We don't need a repeat of your honeymoon." Frankly, Chrom should be grateful that he and Maribelle only annihilated a dozen Grimleal outposts. There's really no pleasing some people.
"That FUCKER!" Grima cast another Thoron, shattering a boulder. "We spend 3 months wandering Plegia looking for any sign of him, and he's in the capitol fucking playing politics!" A ruin, and another boulder split.
Maribelle 'hmm'ed and spoke up from the boulder she was using as a seat. "It's not like we could have gone into the capitol and fought our way into the palace without causing an international incident, so there's really nothing we could have done."
That didn't make Grima any less furious. "I'd honestly be fine with not finding him then, but he only shows his face now? When we have a war against Valm to fight? That cowardly piece of shit! And what does he do with his new position as king? The asshole names me as heir to a land I couldn't give a shit about, and then gives us no reinforcements! 'Oh, we couldn't spare any troops' when General Mustafa's army is right fucking there!" A barrage of fluxes are sent flying across the canyon in a flurry, and Grima paused, beginning to calm down.
He heard Maribelle stand up behind him. "Are you done?" He simply nodded, hearing her step closer, so he turned around to face her.. and got slapped in the face (It didn't really hurt, but he appreciated the gesture anyway).
"What in the HELLS were you thinking? Do you want to attract Validar's attention that badly? I can think of few easier ways to do so than to continue using magic like that! Honestly, sometimes I wonder if you think or just react." Maribelle seemed calm now, and Grima noticed something he didn't before.
"Maribelle. Why is Brady with you?" She shifted Brady around in her arm(s) and raised an eyebrow at Grima. "Really, dear? I'm not leaving our son with some common nanny at his age, and unless you want to leave him on the same continent as Validar without either of us to protect him, then he's coming with us."
Grima conceded that point to her, but knew that keeping her safe on the battlefield just became more difficult (unless he brought in more help, and Carrion Isle just so happened to be saturated with dark magic). "Fine, but I'm creating more 'golems' to keep you safe."
Grima knew he could only draw on so much of his power here without it being noticed, so he quickly prioritized which deadlords to bring forth. With a pull of his magic and the magic in the island, he brought forth and shaped two large groups of thanatophages before the island's magic began to become unstable and he was forced to simply shape those two. Armor, lance, and size come together and the first of the deadlords, Mus, was brought together. Then, with a twist, the second group forms Bovis, second of the deadlords. And.. something went wrong.
"Bovis, where is your horse? I know there was enough magic to create one, so where is it?" Bovis inclined his head towards Grima, and spoke. "A HORSE UNEARNED IS WORSE THAN NONE AT ALL." (Ah, hells. Bovis is even stranger than last time.)
Grima expected there to be stiff resistance when they first made landfall at Valentia, but the local garrison was surprisingly light, and the percentage of civilians that were against Walhart was surprisingly high.
After asking around, it was discovered that the normally quite hefty garrison was almost entirely taken away after one General Yen'fay betrayed (maybe? The rumors were not very clear on what exactly happened) Walhart with an army one million large (that figure wasn't from a rumor, but actual fact).
Grima was ready to make a plan to meet up with Yen'fay, when Basilio suggested they meet with a "voice of Naga" to further unite the continent against Walhart. While it would certainly work, someone with a direct connection to Naga would certainly be able to correctly identify Grima.
The ultimate question was if it would be worth it to see this 'voice' in person and potentially get identified, or stay behind and hope they don't identify Grima while he isn't there and thus cannot defend himself. (Put like that, it wasn't much of a choice.) Grima sighed and hoped this 'voice' was simply a senile old priest and not something horrific like a reincarnation of Naga.
Grima stared at Tiki. Tiki stared back. Perhaps he made the wrong choice. Tiki glared and dragged him to a side room before threatening him. Grima wasn't paying attention to the threat because he noticed how much less powerful she was than last time they fought. "Did the number of seals on your power increase, because you are seeming really pathetic right now. Honestly, Nowi's far stronger than you currently."
Tiki's glare was positively murderous. "Not all of us are monsters simply waiting to destroy everything around us."
Grima felt like that was supposed to be an insult, but it was factually incorrect, and so it didn't matter (even so, retaliation was necessary). "Really? That just sounds like you excusing your own uselessness. How many of the First Exalt's allies died before you stepped in? A dozen?"
Tiki gnashed her teeth, beginning to reach her limit. "You were the one who killed them! You absolute asshole!"
Grima simply smirked, knowing her anger was his victory. "Sounds like you can't handle the truth about your own failures."
Tiki responded by punching him in the face as hard as she could.
Surrounding the Valmese palace was even easier than entrapping Gangrel. Of course, the only reason that was possible was the absolute turmoil the continent was in after Tiki's big speech about unity (she could actually be useful, who knew). It certainly helped that the Shepherds had managed to catch up to Yen'fay before he confronted Walhart, and had now united their forces (it turns out having the second largest army on the continent on your side made things easier).
What Grima was really excited about was hearing from Yen'fay that there was a member of the Grimleal currently in the palace. Maribelle had even begun to sharpen her parasol.
Speaking of Yen'fay, while he was dour and seemingly resigned to death, he had also proven useful enough that Grima resolved to convince him to survive. Maybe he'd know of more Grimleal to be slaughtered.
Grima was left almost entirely with mixed feelings about the battle. Frankly, it was highly impressive how many times Walhart took seemingly lethal wounds, fell back, and was well enough to fight in but minutes. It was also incredibly amusing to discover that Walhart's main motivation was 'to prevent Grima's resurrection'. Grima and Maribelle also made sure Excellus suffered a permanent death, and that was wonderful (but still not nearly as satisfying as Grima's earlier Grimleal kills, for some reason).
On the downside, Grima wasn't sure if Walhart was really dead this time (as his body vanished, just far slower than the previous times), and Grima also had to kill General Mustache. Even Yen'fay admitted that the loss of such a mustache was a shame.
There was also one of Basilio's men relaying a message from Validar, making an obviously fake offer to give Chrom the darksphere. Wonderfully, Grima managed to convince Chrom to let him actually come along this time, so Validar's end finally approaches.
Grima expected the soldiers. He expected the petulant demands from Validar. Having Validar declare his actions "a childish rebellion"', however, was a bit much. "Really? I am childish? When you stand there, demanding the Fire Emblem, but not having the strength to take it?"
Validar chucked, his face filled with dark amusement. "That statement alone shows how childish you really are. I do not require my own strength to claim what is needed for my God." Before Grima could contemplate that, Validar snapped his fingers, and his vision darkened.
Standing not but three feet in front of him, looking for all the world like nothing had changed, was Morgana. "Mother?" He felt weak in the knees.
Something was wrong, something felt wrong. It was impossible, his mother was dead (but what if…) Grima reached out, his fingers grazing his mother, when… Agony. The most pain he had ever felt filled his body. (Something was wrong.) He couldn't see. (Something was wrong.) He couldn't move. (Something was wrong.) He had to do something. He drew upon his true power, and while sluggish, it answered.
His vision returned. Validar was gone. And so was the Fire Emblem (Grima barely noticed the pink flames fading from around him). He felt weak, and fell to his knees.
Chrom rushed to his side, and Grima began to speak without thought (he needed to let this out). "I suppose I always considered it likely that Validar had placed a blood curse on my, I just never cared because my willpower normally thoroughly surpasses his, and I never considered him creative enough to bypass my willpower entirely. I suppose I've always underestimated my enemies." Grima sighed. He would have thought that seeing mother again would make his anger at Validar grow, but instead, he felt hollow.
"Even so, it shouldn't have worked. I saw my mother die, and I knew something was wrong. I should have been able to force him out, I should have known she couldn't be standing before me, but…" Grima trailed off, not knowing how to finish.
It was Chrom who finished for him. "But you wanted to believe anyway. I understand. The pain of losing a parent… it never truly goes away, it just becomes easier to handle." Chrom held out his arm to Grima. "Come on, Robin. We have a war to win. I believe in you."
Grima hesitated, and then grabbed his hand.
As a lull in the combat formed, a sense of finality filled the room, and Chrom seemed to recognize that. "This is it! Our final battle! You're one of us, Robin, and no 'destiny' can change that. Now let's kill this dastard and be done with it!"
Chrom was entirely correct. No matter how this went, Grima knew this would be their final battle together. With that, the battle resumed. Sword and magic clashed, and Grima reflected on Chrom's immense growth. In less than 3 years, Chrom went from a powerful novice, barely able to handle seasoned bandits, to single handedly pushing back Plegia's most powerful sorcerer. Had Validar not been drawing upon the Fire Emblem's power, Chrom would have already been victorious.
Chrom overextended, and Validar prepared to strike, so Grima let loose a Thoron. While the sorcerer deflected the spell, he failed to deflect the Prince's follow up, and received a sword to the chest.
Validar seemed to vanish into smoke, but Grima knew what was sure to follow. He ignored Chrom's proud statement, closed his eyes, and drew upon all the power he had available (it didn't matter that drawing upon all his power would be impossible to hide).
The world shifted, and yet again, his mother stood before him. With a smile that was almost sad, she stepped forward, and placed a hand on Grima's cheek. He savored the warmth of her touch, and softly, very softly, apologized. "I'm sorry for letting you die. I'm glad to have known you." He grabbed hold of the link between him and Validar, and with all of his might, snapped it.
In an instant, he was again in the waking world, the immense magical backlash ripping through both him and Validar. For almost twenty seconds magic exploded out of them both, rupturing blood vessels, snapping tendons, and shattering a select few bones. While Grima was able to force his body to rapidly heal, Validar had no such power remaining, and collapsed in a heap (not quite on the verge of death, but approaching it).
Grima ignored the shattering of the barrier, the rushing of feet, and the sudden shouting, all in favor of simply walking forward until he was directly above Validar, and could look him in the eyes. "For all the pain you have caused me, I still must thank you. Had you not ordered my mother's death, I would have never met the Shepherds. I would have never met my wife, or had a son. For that, I shall grant you the truth you so desperately desire." The room seemed deathly silent.
"For the last thousand years, you and all those who came before you have worked towards one singular goal: the creation of the perfect vessel for your god, one that could not only perfectly contain his power, but be as comfortable for him as his original form." Grima held his arms out. "You succeeded." Grima felt the room fill with a mix of emotions, and waited for Chrom to act as expected and put Falchion into his gut. And yet… nothing.
Grima placed a cloud of Goetia around Validar, put his arms down, and turned to face Chrom. Against all logic, Chrom had Falchion sheathed, and gave Grima a look of calm acceptance and trust. Why? He turned to Maribelle, expecting hurt and betrayal, instead receiving a strained smile and a look that promised future lectures. Why? He turned to Basilio. Amused acceptance. Flavia? Confused acceptance? Lon'qu, Sumia, Henry, everywhere he looked, nobody acted as they should. Why? Why?
He couldn't handle this. He turned back to Validar and closed his eyes. He felt Chrom approach, finally expecting some rejection. Instead, he got a hand on his shoulder and a soft, "Like I said, I believe in you." Something inside him snapped into place. He opened his eyes, and Robin closed his fist.
