Disclaimer: Fire Emblem and all characters and concepts belong to Nintendo and Intelligent Systems.
Characters/Pairings: Chrom/Robin, OC: Lord Matthias, Aversa, Frederick.
Warnings: Character death.
Author's Notes: For the Chrobinweek Prompt 'Myth.' I'm aware that this fic only very loosely ties into the prompt, but I hope it's good enough that the week's mods as well as anyone reading it will forgive that. Note: Chrom's father is neither named nor explored in the game, so I filled him in myself and named him Matthias for the purpose of this fic. I hope his characterization here makes sense with what little we know from the game, without making him too much like Fates's Garon. Enjoy!

Heretic

Chrom gave a broad, maybe slightly exaggerated yawn. It couldn't have been much past midnight; by all means he should have been in bed, snoring the night away. A far cry from being in front of the Ylissean throne in full battle gear. Worse, Lissa and Emmeryn had been left on their beds. Whatever was it that needed his attention so badly it couldn't have waited until tomorrow? It was cold in the castle halls, too!

"Your Highness," he heard to his side, "Please."

"'Please' yourself, Frederick," he said, rubbing his eyes. "I was asleep up until ten minutes ago. You can't expect me to be- Father!" He jolted upright when the large double doors at the end of the throne room were pushed open and he recognised the first man who walked in. Lord Matthias, the currently governing Exalt of Ylisse, was a tall and imposing man, although the broadness of his chest and shoulders was largely (not entirely) an illusion created by his battle regalia. He bore the sacred blade Falchion, one of the two proofs of their blessed heritage, on one hip, though his hands were empty.

Chrom was more than a little relieved to see him, alive and well. When Matthias had left for the Plegian capital to negotiate a ceasefire between the two nations, his children had been beyond worried for him; even with Chrom and his Shepherds patrolling the borders and Emmeryn taking over any administrative duties, it didn't feel quite the same without their father coaching them or being there to correct their mistakes so the halidom wouldn't suffer under their inexperience. However, Chrom was no fool; he saw a number of fresh marks on his already-scarred form.

"Your Grace," Frederick said next to him, drawing his liege's attention and beating Chrom to it. "Those scars… I take it the negotiations didn't go in our favour, then."

"They most certainly did not," Matthias said, sitting himself down on his throne. "His Majesty was not only unwilling to agree to our terms, he never intended to even listen to them. The entire meeting was little more than a trap to place an attempt on my life."

"Are you alright then, Father?" Chrom hurried to ask, worried. "Perhaps you should rest, we can always continue this in the morning-"

His father interrupted him. "I'm here, aren't I? We cut them down and made our escape. Fortunately, not the entire trip was a waste." He turned to the hallway behind Chrom. "Bring her in!"

Bring her in? Chrom turned to the doors to see two persons entering upon the command. "We found a Grimleal camp," the Exalt explained, "And culled them. As it turned out, they were escorting a high priestess of their heretic order. We managed to Silence and capture her after cleaning up her guards. She'll make a fine hostage." The clanging footsteps of Matthias's first lieutenant came to a halt, and Chrom's attention came to rest on the form of the captured priestess. He could not see much of her silhouette, as she was garbed almost entirely in a huge, dark coat lined with gold and decorated with numerous purple eyes. The hood had been pulled down roughly, freeing her white twintails, but she was blindfolded. Her wrists were bound in front of her and her face was downcast as she awaited further words from her capturer. It was almost… ethereal, how calm and passive she was. He suspected the Silence spell his father had mentioned had a pacifying effect on her.

"If she warranted a full camp's worth of escorts," Matthias continued, pulling his son out of his thoughts, "Then she is important enough that the Grimleal should want her back alive. So long as she remains in our possession, we can exert pressure on them." Chrom nodded in understanding. It was a well-known fact that the current war with Plegia had started out as a crusade against its state religion; the Grimleal were the most influential of the Fell Dragon's followers, and if they could be made to accept Ylisse's conditions, that would let them make large strides in the war.

Finally, he turned towards Chrom himself. "I will return to the frontlines soon," he said. "So I cannot watch her myself. And she is too valuable to hand to a common soldier to hold prisoner. I've thought long and hard on it, Chrom, and I've finally come to the conclusion that I will relinquish her into your care." Finally. That explained why he'd been summoned from his bed at this hour and why this couldn't have waited until tomorrow.

Chrom looked at the captive priestess once more. If she had heard and understood the words of her capturer, then she didn't show it. Her posture had remained entirely unchanged throughout the discourse. He turned back to his father and nodded. "The Shepherds would be honoured to serve their Exalt so directly," he said, before turning to Frederick. "Frederick, have her placed in our dungeons immediately. I'll inspect her at the first opportunity."

"Yes, milord." Frederick bowed and took his leave, along with Matthias's general and the prisoner, leaving Chrom alone with his father.

"Chrom, my son…" Matthias stood up from the throne, walking up to Chrom and putting a hand on his shoulder. "I know this is quite a responsibility I'm putting on your young shoulders. She needs to be fed, watered, and cared for if she falls ill. But at the same time, I want you to be careful not to become more personally involved than that. Remember that she is with our enemies, and she may attempt an escape by force if she sees an opportunity. Do not give her one."

"I will not, Father," he promised. "Rest assured of that."

Still, he thought when he stood in front of her cell the next morning, she didn't look all that intimidating. She'd been freed of her bonds and her blindfold, as well as her long coat. Presumably, Frederick had thought it a very convenient garment to conceal weapons under and had confiscated it. The Silence spell must still have been effective, for she was as docile and passive as she had been the night before. Seeing her now, sitting down with her back to the bars of her cell and her face turned to look out the cell window, Chrom wondered if his father had made the right assumption about this woman. Still, he shook the thought and took hold of one of the bars in front of him. "Hey," he said, drawing her attention. She slowly turned her head, looking at him with mild interest in her dark brown eyes and giving him the first good look at her face.

She was young- approximately his own age, he supposed, which made him question her position all the more. Delusional though the Grimleal were, he didn't think they were far enough gone to make an eighteen-year-old girl a high priestess. To his surprise, he also realized he thought her pretty; with her small nose, heart-shaped face, and soft features. Damn. Had she been an Ylissean noblewoman instead of a Grimleal priestess, he might've courted her. "Um," he muttered, clearing his throat. "Yes. Hi." Damn, why was he blushing?

"You'd already said that," the girl said, her voice startling him. So the Silence spell had worn off! Maybe she was just passive by nature. "Who are you?"

"You first," he said. "What is your name, Grimleal priestess?"

She smiled. She wore smiles well, he thought. "Has no one taught you it's rude to answer a question with another question?"

"Save me the banter," he said, trying to sound more intimidating than he felt. "Your name."

"Don't get your smallclothes all twisted up," she said, leaning the back of her head against the bars behind her as well. "It's Robin. Like the bird." Robin… somehow, he had expected something far more exotic. Robin sounded too normal for a leader of the heretic order. "Your turn," she said, not looking at him yet. "Who are you?"

He hesitated, but she had answered him. Besides, she clearly wasn't intimidated by him. "…Chrom," he said. "I'm the prince of Ylisse."

At that, she turned back to him. "Is that so? You'll have to forgive me if I don't curtsey. I don't believe in mortal sovereigns." That was ridiculous- Plegia was no more a theocracy than Ylisse was. As he thought about it, he realized she was looking him up and down. "At least you're not hard to look at," she then admitted. "Maybe my time here won't be so insufferable after all."

He blushed a little harder, stepping back from her cell door. "I'll-" he recollected himself and started over, "I'll have my lieutenant bring you something to eat." He almost ran off, knowing that she'd already started making holes in his conviction to see her as nothing but an enemy. She was so young, so witty, so attractive. She'd caught him off-guard; he had to gather his thoughts and establish a strategy to deal with her charm before he would face her again. Until then, the much more unflappable Frederick would have to look after her.

He waited until the end of the week before he took the tray with Robin's dinner from Frederick and told him to turn in early for tomorrow's march- he would feed the prisoner tonight. Taking a deep breath before pushing open the heavy door to the dungeon, he walked in to see her sitting on her knees square in the middle of her cell, hands folded in front of her and her eyes closed. He didn't have to be a scholar to know she was praying to her god of destruction, and for a second he considered going in there to interrupt her and tell her what he thought of her heathen worship of the Fell Dragon. Instead, he found himself waiting patiently for her eyes to open and for her smile to return to her face as she recognized him. "Your Highness," she said, a mild mocking tone to her voice. "What a pleasant surprise. I feared I'd offended or scared you last time."

"Don't flatter yourself," Chrom said as he entered her cell –assuming she wouldn't be able to get up easily with her legs folded underneath her and quite possibly asleep from praying- and set down her food. "I had matters to see to." It wasn't a complete lie, at least. Robin didn't pry, shifting into a different sitting position and taking up the spoon to start on the soup he'd brought her. For a few minutes, Chrom watched in silence as she ate, leaning his back against the cell door and his arms crossed over his chest. Finally, he broke the silence. "So what was that just now? I assume you were praying."

"Did you think our prayers consisted of blood rituals?" Robin asked, mischievously looking up at him from the ground. "I'm not some sort of demon, Chrom. I'm human like you. I worship. I pray."

"So I see," he admitted, "Your god is just a monster bent on destruction."

"Everything that begins must have an end," she said, smiling down at her now-empty soup bowl. "Surely, you understand that." He had no answer to that. Instead of sputtering and trying to formulate a reply, he remained quiet, hoping she'd take it as vested disinterest. He was convinced in his own faith, anyway.

She didn't press, not even when he left with her cleared dishes, but when he got to his bed, he found himself thinking about her words. Everything that begins must have an end, huh… It was a surprisingly profound belief from a religion he had thought to be barbaric and indiscriminate in its violence. He didn't pretend to understand it, though. Instead, he said his own quick prayers to Naga, making sure to ask for strength to deal with this woman, before heading off to bed.

When next he visited her, he noticed something disconcerting. "Robin? Is your leg alright?"

She turned to look at him, looking up from the book she'd requested and been given a few days ago. "My leg? I'm fine, Chrom. Why do you ask?"

"You're sitting again." He joined her, kneeling in front of her and putting a hand over her baggy trousers to feel down her leg. He was no healer, but it made him feel useful. "I've yet to see you stand since you were brought here."

She swatted at him futilely, blushing for the first time that he'd seen. "H-hey! Keep your Ylissean paws to yourself!" When he didn't let go, and in fact pushed her down with more pressure, she panicked completely, throwing her other leg up and landing her knee on his nose. "GET OFF!"

"OW!" He jerked his head back, taking his hands off of her to cover his nose. "What is WRONG with you?!"

"What is wrong with me?!" she screamed, "What is wrong with YOU!?" She pulled her legs in and made herself smaller, red with anger. It was amazing, in a way- Chrom hadn't seen her lose her composure before. "Is it common practice in Ylisse to just grope women whenever you please?! Does your obsession with creation take you to such depraved places?!"

"For crying out loud, woman!" he shouted back at her, "I was trying to help you! It's not my fault you're always just sitting there, anyone was bound to worry!"

"I don't need the concern of some Naganite brat!" She tried to get further away from him, stopped by the bars of her cell. "Get out!"

What? This was getting ridiculous. "You can't give me orders!" He said, indignant. "You're my prisoner, not the other way around!"

"Get out, or so help me Grima, your death will be slow, painful, and humiliating when He comes!" She was beyond reasoning, so Chrom saw no option other than to leave and wait until she regained her senses. He was still baffled, though. He hadn't expected such a simple gesture, made with good intentions, to leave her beside herself with fear.

"At least now I know she's human after all," he muttered to himself as he shut the door to the dungeon behind him. Part of him was glad to have broken her perfect composure. He just wished it wouldn't have had to happen like this.

He sent Frederick to her with Emmeryn, who could inspect her and immediately treat her if it were necessary- in retrospect, sending his older sister was what he should have done from the beginning. A woman's touch had many less connotations than a man's, and Emm was quite possibly the least intimidating person in Ylisse, if not the world. When she returned, she told him his suspicious had been spot on; Robin's leg had been injured, had most likely been so back when she'd been first brought in. Most likely, it had been left over from the battle in which she had been captured. It had been relatively minor, but if not seen to it could have festered and gotten much, much worse. "As it was, though," she said, "It was nothing a quick Heal staff couldn't fix."

"That's… good, I suppose." He hoped his relief wasn't outwardly noticeable. He knew he shouldn't get invested in the girl- if negotiations with the Grimleal went awry, it would be harder to execute her. Still, it had been impossible not to be worried for her when she got like that. She'd been genuinely afraid of him… At least she'd apparently let Emmeryn help her. That was progress.

"She did seem upset, however," Emmeryn admitted. "When I left, she asked if you would visit her again." She tilted her head to a side, a quirk Chrom had learnt to mean her curiosity had been piqued, and smiled. "She honestly seemed more bothered by your absence than by her injury."

"What is wrong with this woman?" Chrom wondered out loud, forgetting in his frustration and confusion that his sister was there. "We're not friends or anything…"

He jolted when Emmeryn put her hand on his shoulder. "Of course you aren't," she said. "But I think it would be good if you continued to watch her regardless. She appears to be fond of you, so her imprisonment here would be much less stressful with you around."

"I am not here for her entertainment-"

"Think of her feelings, Chrom," she said, squeezing his shoulder. "Can you imagine being imprisoned in Plegia, alone, unfamiliar, and without any source of comfort?" He fell silent. No, he supposed not. And he didn't want to- it didn't strike him as pleasant. Emmeryn smiled at his silence. "I know she's our prisoner, but she's also human. We aren't monsters, are we?"

"No, of course not." He breathed out. "I'll… see about visiting her when I next get a chance."

She looked up when she heard him enter, a smile appearing on her face when she recognized him. "Ah," she said, standing up. "There you are. I thought I'd scared you off again."

"Emmeryn told me as much," Chrom said, the bars between them. "Judging from your stance, I assume she fixed the problem?"

"Yes," Robin said, stretching the leg he assumed had previously been injured. "Thank you. I apologise for screaming at you- it was most undignified of me."

"D-don't worry about it," he replied, his thoughts fighting a massive war in his head. Should he talk to her normally? Should he squash any friendly feelings and treat her as his prisoner and nothing else? Of course he should, she was their prisoner and nothing else. And yet, he found that seeing her stand and smile was relieving. "I apologise, as well," he heard himself say. "I had no business touching you as I did. I don't know where my head was."

"You meant well," she said, her smile not fading. "You are forgiven."

For a moment, silence fell between them, until Chrom found the courage to break it. "S-so… I'm curious. In your panic you screamed something about Grima coming…" She nodded, indicating that she knew what he spoke of. "Is that a thing in Grimleal doctrine? I mean, isn't the Fell Dragon long dead and decomposed?" He didn't know why it interested him so much. Just that he was curious… and he was probably better off learning from Robin than from books. After all, what better source on the Grimleal faith than a bona fide Grimleal High Priestess?

Dear Naga, he sounded like Miriel.

"Lord Grima was vanquished by your ancestor, yes," Robin said, taking a moment to gather her thoughts. "But to think that is the end of the Fell Dragon, His legacy, and His word is a very… Naganite way of thinking."

"Well, I'm sorry that I'm naïve to a-"

"No, it's endearing." She shook her head. "It's quite antithesis to the Grimleal faith. All that begins must end- but similarly, you'll find that an ending quite commonly leads to a new beginning." She looked at him intently, as if considering how much she should tell him. "My people eagerly await the arrival of the Vessel."

"The… Vessel?" That wasn't a term he was familiar with. Clearly, whatever this belief was, it had no equivalent in Naganite faith.

Robin nodded. "Yes. The Vessel is a human child born under the perfect circumstances and imbued with power, so that through its body and mind, Lord Grima may return to this world."

"What?!" he grabbed the bars, shocked. "That is nonsense! Why would you want that!? The First Exalt went into all that trouble to seal Grima, and you would bring him back?!"

"The balance of power must be conserved," she said, speaking slowly as though he were a small child. "Surely, you understand that. With Lord Grima gone, but Lady Naga merely in slumber, the balance has shifted considerably in Her favour." She frowned, turning away from him. "The Naganite community may think that's a good thing. But a skewed balance is never a positive… Lord Grima must return so that He can even things out again."

"Somehow, I have the feeling you wouldn't be so hell-bent on this 'balance' if it had been Naga who had been slain," Chrom said, more snidely than he had meant to.

"Of course not!" Robin quipped, looking at him over her shoulder. "That would be your job. You're Her followers, not us." She smiled. "Now, isn't it about time for you to be on your way?" She pointed at the cell window. "At least, I assume the clamour outside is from your men training, and not from an invasion." She was right. Chrom had had no idea he'd been here for as long as he had been; it sounded like the Shepherds had started training without him. He left without another word, only looking back at the door to see her wave at him.

For the rest of the day, her words gnawed at him. It had been the first he'd heard of a balance of power. Ever since the defeat of the Fell Dragon, the Naganite Church had only meant to stamp out any remnants of its followers. And rightly so, if resurrection of their god of destruction was their end goal! Still, if there really was such a thing as a balance, she might have had a point, and he was still struggling to either fully dismiss it or reconcile it with his own faith during that night's dinner. "Chrom," Matthias said, waking his son from his ponderings, "You're unusually quiet tonight. Is all well?"

He hesitated, finally putting down his utensils. "Not entirely, Father," he said, prompting Emmeryn and Lissa to look up from their meals as well as he weaved his fingers. "It's Robin."

"Who?" Of course. Matthias hadn't learnt her name.

"The Grimleal prisoner," he clarified. "We've been talking. She… I'm confused, Father. When she explains it, their doctrine almost makes sense. It's so different from what I've learnt." When he realized Emmeryn was looking at him intently to the point where she had slowed her eating, he added, "I'm in no danger of losing my own faith, rest assured. But… is this war on Plegia for the sake of completely eradicating the Grimleal really the best thing to do?"

"I see," Matthias said, putting down his own fork. "Chrom, there is something you have to understand about the prisoner. Regardless of her age, she is a high priestess of their heathen order. Her mind is drenched in doctrine and propaganda, and she is trained to pass those to others. Of course her words strike true in your mind; they are carefully chosen to do so." He shook his head. "Do not fall for them, Chrom. You are smarter than to let her poison infect you."

"Yes, Father," Chrom said, nodding and turning back to his meal. "Thank you."

For the next week or so, Chrom accompanied the Shepherds on an inspection of a border post that had recently come under attack. He entrusted Robin's meals to Emmeryn, whom she knew and was at least on slightly friendly terms with, but something ate at him during the march. What Matthias had said made sense, of course. It was true that Robin had been indoctrinated, and trained to do the same to others. It was entirely possible that that was all she was doing. But there was something else about her… She struck him as genuine, rather than manipulative. She was so bright, and her smile melted him. Surely such a beautiful and intelligent woman couldn't be so corrupted to her core?

He was still puzzling on it when they returned to the palace, and even before he could report to his father, he was approached by a panicked Emmeryn. "Sister," he said, grabbing her shoulders to stabilize her, "What's the matter?"

"It's Robin," Emmeryn said, "I… I think you should go see her."

"I had planned to do so after I-"

"No." She shook her head frantically. "Now. Frederick can report to Father. Right, Frederick?" The knight nodded. Something had to be very wrong, for Emmeryn to advocate such a breach in protocol and to be so completely out of sorts. Chrom hurried down towards the dungeons, but found himself stopped dead in the doorway, an oppressive aura giving him pause. Something was definitely wrong.

"Robin?" he called, "Are you alright?" He didn't know what it was that responded, but it was definitely not Robin. All he heard was some vague rumble, a voice that was not human but approached the groans and roars of a Wyvern instead. "I'm coming, Robin," he said, "Whether you like it or not…"

He pushed on, every fibre of his being screaming at him to get away from whatever it was that sat in Robin's cell, until he reached her. There was nothing else than Robin, sitting on her knees with her arms wrapped tightly about her and gripping onto her top as though it was the only thing keeping her alive. She trembled with ill-contained rage, but what really shocked him was her face. It was contorted in an expression of pure rage, her eyes looking more red than their usual brown, and the demonic rumble he'd heard came from her mouth. "Robin?!" he called, grabbing the bars but not daring to enter her cell, "Are you alright? What's happened?!"

This close to her, he could more clearly decipher words in her rumbling. She spoke of gruesome ways in which someone would die, painful and slowly, his death dragged out along hours, days, weeks, that Matthias of Ylisse would pay for humiliating her-

"Robin!" When it didn't look like she was going to explode anytime soon, Chrom tore open the cell door and kneeled next to her, grabbing her shoulder. The moment he touched her, she snapped out of it, slumping forward and catching herself on both hands before Chrom managed to support her. She still shivered, but now with something else than rage.

"C-Chrom?" she asked, lifting her head and looking at him. "Y-You're back?" She touched his face as if she couldn't believe it, finally resting her hands on his shoulders while he supported her arms. "Thank you…" she muttered, "Please don't leave again… I…"

It wasn't until now that Chrom realized something about her was different. He cupped her face to look at it, seeing remnants of bruises and scratches on it. As he lowered his gaze, he realized they were not just on her face- her exposed collarbone, her arms, she was covered in them. "Robin-" he choked out, "Who- who did this to you?! I left you in Emmeryn's care!"

"Your sister didn't do anything," she said, voice breaking. "It- It was Exalt Matthias… he came down here with some men and… and…" She shuddered. Chrom embraced her tightly, mind reeling. His father had been responsible for this? "He said I was poisoning your mind with my godless lies," she continued, her voice tiny against his chest. "Asked if I thought to turn you against him, he said he'd see that idea beaten out of me…"

"Shhh. It's alright." He stroked her hair. "I'm home now, you're back in my hands. I'm going to send Emm down to take care of those wounds, alright? Try not to scare her off again."

"I won't," she promised, "I don't even know… Oh, Chrom…"

It took minutes for him to gather the will to dislodge himself from her and leave her cell, closing it behind him and finding Emmeryn- notifying her that the strange oppressive presence had left the dungeon and that she had to tend to Robin's injuries immediately. From that point on, he kept his eyes fixed on one goal only- the throne room, where he knew he would find his father still in conference with Frederick and where he would demand answers.

"What is the meaning of this?!" he demanded as he threw one of the large double doors open, prompting all men in the room to turn to look at him. Well, that was his entrance made. He barged towards the throne, pointing at his father. "Robin is my prisoner!" he said, "It falls to me to discipline her for her transgressions!"

"Settle down, boy," Matthias said, anger on his face. Interrupting his conversation with Frederick, especially in front of what looked to be other nobles from Ylisse, might not have been Chrom's brightest moment, but he was too angry to care.

"I will not settle down!" he protested. "You had her beaten badly enough that I could still see it today! You didn't even bother sending her a healer to cover it up!"

"If she sent away your sister, that was on her-"

"She did nothing!" Chrom had no patience for his father's justifications of his decision. "And you know that fine well considering you waited until I left to do it! Is this proper treatment of a prisoner, much less a high-profile and important hostage? What would Naga say?"

He had more to shout at him, but his train of thought was broken when he felt a sharp impact on his left cheek, the force of it sending him reeling. He found himself on the ground, his father standing over him with one hand still slightly raised from the slap. "That is quite enough." Matthias was clearly enraged, but his ire seemed trivial after what Chrom had witnessed in the dungeon. "We will discuss your insolence in interrupting us later. The prisoner was disciplined for her attempts to poison the mind of my primary heir." He sighed. "Sadly, it seems she has had moderate success in them, and I will not be disgraced by a son whose faith has started to waver. I will assign the prisoner a new, mentally sturdier guard. Frederick, please see my son to his chambers."

"Yes, Your Grace." Frederick gently took Chrom by the shoulders, leading him out of the throne room and towards his room. Halfway down the hallway, Chrom tugged his shoulder loose. "Would you care to explain what that was about?" Frederick asked him, after establishing that his lord was calm and would not throw another fit.

"Father had his men beat up a woman who I may or may not have fallen in love with," Chrom blurted out, "And I'm pissed about that." He didn't even question the extent of his feelings anymore. It had come out of him so easily that he knew it had to be true.

Frederick raised an eyebrow. "With respect, sire… you realise that she is the enemy, yes?"

"I do," Chrom said, sighing. "Maybe Father did the right thing in removing her from my care. But I can't help but worry about what is going to happen to her now… she was a complete mess."

"That is no longer for you to worry about, milord," Frederick said, smiling. "It is as you said- Lord Matthias removed her from your care. You will not be exposed to her and her venom anymore, so I am confident that both your faith and your sense will return to you with time."

"Let's hope so," Chrom said, but his heart wasn't in the words. "Thank you, my friend." He left the knight's company, entering his room and dropping onto his back on his bed. He sighed deeply, finally touching his hand to his cheek. Damn. His father had hit him hard.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Something wasn't right, Robin was sure of it. For the past weeks, she hadn't seen Prince Chrom at all. Her meals were brought to her by soldiers who didn't speak to her and who were more akin to the ones who had captured her than to the knight Chrom had sent a few times in the beginning. At least he had been somewhat kind to her.

She missed the handsome, blue-haired prince. The days crawled by without him there to keep her company and argue with her about their faiths. He'd been so understanding, for a Naganite... but it was more than that. He'd seen her more as a person and less as a prisoner or even a high priestess. During the times she'd spent with him, she'd felt more like a person and more at ease than she'd ever been even at home. And now... she was once again reduced to a thing, in this case a prisoner, and merely awaited the day she would be saved by her people to be brought back into the most important position in their church.

Part of her wished it didn't have to be so. She clutched her right wrist, fingers curled into a fist. She didn't want to look at her mark. It didn't give her comfort anymore. She just wanted Chrom.

It wasn't long after the prince's sudden disappearance from her life that she first felt the telltale magic of her people, and a sad smile found its way to her face. They'd come. About time. Now, she would be saved from her cell and she could repay Exalt Matthias for the disgrace that had been his abuse of her. And more importantly, she could find Chrom and apologise to him for not telling him the whole truth... and tell him to run. There was no glory or love to be found in this religious war that his father would expect him to wage in his footsteps. She had no means of getting away from it all, but he did. He had to take his gentle and warm-hearted sister and run from this life of conflict as fast as their legs could carry them.

"Ah, Robin." She looked up at the unmistakable voice of her sister. Her guard was already dead on the ground, and the white-haired, well-endowed woman elegantly kicked open her cell door. "Wonderful!" she exclaimed, smiling. "They kept you fed and watered. Are you ready to make them pay for locking you in such a drafty dungeon cell?"

"If you brought me a tome to use, sister dear," Robin said, approaching her and holding out her hand.

Aversa smiled, placing a purple-covered tome in it. "Here you go. Father sends his regards." She looked at it, her heart leaping a little when she recognised it as Grima's Truth, the tome her father normally wielded. He wasn't here, then. That meant she still had a window of opportunity in which to save Chrom. She followed Aversa out of the dungeon, the two of them casting their dark spells left and right to kill the soldiers Matthias sent after them to retrieve his hostage.

Finally, they crashed through the remnants of a door, just as the hated Exalt of Ylisse did the same on the other side of the hallway. Robin fumed, pushing past Aversa when she recognised him, and raised her tome to gather its power. She was just about ready to cast the spell at her enemy, her captor and tormentor, when she realised it was not just the three of them in the hallway. There was someone on the ground, struggling to breathe. "Grima's Mercy," she said, dropping her tome and hurrying over to him to turn him over, "Chrom!"

She hadn't been mistaken. Someone, presumably one of the Grimleal Aversa had brought to rescue her, had gotten to him, wounding him- fatally. "Oh no," she said, petting his face and forgetting about Matthias. "I'm so sorry, Chrom. You didn't deserve an end this painful and shameful..." She saw the shadow of Matthias engulfing her as he raised his sword to cut her down, but Aversa was faster, a quick cast of her Goetia sufficing to send him to the ground. Her sister personally did not interfere with her good-bye to the man who had cared for her all this time.

Robin sighed. "I apologise for lying to you, Chrom. There's something you don't know." His eyes focused on her. He must still have had the strength to listen to her, she supposed. It filled her with warmth to know he would spend his last conscious moments with her, and not just in agony. "I told you about the Vessel... but what I didn't tell you is that I am the Vessel." His eyes widened. Shock. Disbelief. She nodded. "Yes... That's why I'm a High Priestess. Father groomed me for my fate..." She sighed, stroking a bloodied strand of blue from his brow. "I wish I could say we'll meet again soon, but the truth is, when Lord Grima comes, I will vanish. So... this is the last time we'll see each other."

His hand found its way to her wrist. Robin smiled. "I really did love you, Chrom. Naganite or not... you were the first person who didn't think of me as a means to an end. You don't know how much that means to me."

"Robin, sweetheart," Aversa said, "We'll have to hurry. Father does so hate to be left waiting."

"Yes, sister." She turned to the woman towering over them. "Just let me see him off... he's the reason I'm still as strong as I am." Aversa nodded, taking another step back to give her space. Robin turned back to Chrom. "I can't save you. You know that, right? I don't have that power. All I can do is end your suffering here..." She leaned down, putting her hands around his neck and her lips to his forehead. "Just remember what I said. Every ending is an opportunity for a new beginning..." He swallowed hard, shut his eyes, and nodded. He understood. "I wish you another chance in a better life, Chrom."

With those words, she exerted physical and magical force, snapping his neck and cutting off his lifeblood there and then. He stopped struggling for air, and she left him on the ground as she stood up, her gaze now on Matthias, who had shaken the effects of Goetia and got to his feet. "As for you."

Compared to his noble son, Exalt Matthias of Ylisse met and faced his end gracelessly.