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He hasn't been in this world for long but Chrom can feel a second home for himself in Askr. His summoning had been a complete surprise, finding himself thrust into an unfamiliar world without his consent, although he'd quickly come to realise it was little different from his adventures into the Outrealms. To his joy Chrom had even found many of his fellow Shepherds scattered around Askr, heroes of legend he had thought only existed in fairy tales and eventually family. He'd met Marth, not the true hero of old whom he had also been introduced, but his daughter, still clinging to a mask, a hand-me-down sword and far too many unresolved troubles. It hadn't been the happiest story right away but it had been comforting to find family here in ways he couldn't properly describe. That had been months ago and while he still felt he had much to make up for, he could truly say he had begun to enjoy this world.
Not to say Askr was perfect, it was a far cry even from the Ylisse he was used to and suffered constant attacks from its neighbouring Kingdom Embla. He himself had been called to fight on the front lines by the kind soul that had summoned him. Still though the Prince and Princess of Askr were kind enough and Chrom had built a close rapport with them both. It was Anna, now Commander Anna, of all people he was having trouble getting used to taking orders from. That is to say an Anna. An Anna that was not the Anna he knew, or an Anna he'd met, or-that is to say-things were complicated enough as is.
The summoner though, the prized tactician of Askr, was someone Chrom had found a very close kinship with immediately and talking with them had helped fill a void that he had so dearly missed with his own tactician even if they weren't exactly the same. It wasn't just their guidance or the way they eased the presence of each and every hero they summoned but also the mysticism behind their power. Pulling heroes from another world and bringing them to Askr was something Chrom could hardly fathom, he'd asked about it of course. Apparently it had something to do with the bow like weapon the summoner always carried upon themselves. Just recently, according to Frederick, there had been a new powerful hero summoned although their identity was a bit of a secret and neither he nor his steward had any clue as to who it was.
As Chrom rounded the corner into the castle lobby however he found himself a stone's throw away from just that, Askr's latest hero and the one person he was truly not prepared for. In that moment he felt as if time had crawled to a stop. It was her cloak he noticed first, the familiar purple and golden patterns on it were a sight for sore eyes but it was as the figure turned, as if in slow motion, that several things suddenly happened at once. As he expected the kind and gentle eyes of his tactician to turn towards him he is instead met with a cold and vacant stare. Chrom's shoulder burns and as their eyes meet he is suddenly aware of Marth, the Marth that is definitely not Marth, behind him yelling and charging past him. Finally everything clicks into place and Chrom becomes aware of one last thing as the dark aura around his beloved tactician flares into horrible life, the world of Askr is not unique to heroes that are good and just.
He grabs 'Marth', hauling her backwards as she struggles against him, kicking and screaming against his hold as her Parallel Falchion clatters to the floor. As his daughter protests in his arms the summoner rushes between the two of them and Robin. The summoner is talking, calmly and whatever they're saying makes Lucina still in his grip but he doesn't dare let her go, whatever the summoner is saying however is a distant echo to him. His eyes are locked to hers, the sickeningly amused expression plastered on a face she has no right to manipulate. How terrible, a dark thought enters unbidden into his mind, must Askr's plight truly be to seek aid from the fell dragon of all things.
“Chrom! Chrom!” The summoner is waving their hand in front of his face and it finally catches his attention “Chrom I'm so sorry! I was on my way to tell you she arrived but-” Robin, no Grima, casually strolls forward and brushes the summoner aside to stand before him. She looks him up and down once before casually addressing the panicking tactician.
“You may leave, worm.” The summoner stops in a mid-bow of apology to glance between the fell dragon, Marth and himself but makes no move to leave.
“Come now Exalt we are allies in this world, we should not fight and you” Grima's disgustingly smug sneer turns to his daughter, still clutched tightly to his own chest “this is no place to play hero. You might get hurt wielding things like this.” Grima presses the parallel falchion into Lucina's hands and instantly Lucina flees. She's out of his hands and gone, somewhere far behind him faster than he can react, but his eyes never once leave the thing that looks out of Robin's body at him, smirking privy to a joke only she would understand.
Why are you here? He can't bring himself to open his mouth, to speak to the monster before him. His hand finds Falchion at his side and he realizes he's trembling, shaking with rage as Grima stares him down.
“They didn't summon me on purpose if that's what you're wondering.” Her voice is filled with malicious mirth and she smirks gleefully as he flinches, feeling the mark she's hit in her assumption.
He doesn't know when he's drawn his weapon but suddenly Falchion is between them, Grima's eyes are wild and suddenly unsure as the tip of the blade rests mere inches away from her chest. She's clutching something in her hand he realises distantly, a stone he's seen the manakete's of this world use. He remembers them from his own world and he also remembers how devastating a wrymslayer was to those that wielded them, he remembers how carefully Robin had guided Nowi and Nah away from them in fear of exactly what Falchion was also capable of doing. The blade of falchion sways ever so slightly in his grasp as all the rage and hatred he's long since suppressed oozes out of him in a fiery storm he's not even close to capable of containing but before it can be let loose a firm hand grasps his and a new body is once again placed between them.
The cool and calm gaze of the summoner is like ice, blanketing and dispersing the anger within him but the distant beat of blood still pounds through him louder than the words of wisdom they're carefully speaking to him. He can't look away from Grima his eyes still locked to the monster so very close to him, she almost looks hurt, afraid of the blade mere inches from her. Good a darker part of his mind spits, let her fear you.
The summoner's hand grips his tighter and suddenly the world comes rushing back into focus. He glances ever so slightly to his side, Prince Alfonse is looking over at him cautiously and behind him Commander Anna is bolt upright and poised to spring into action. Shame and fear take him at once and he leaves, roughly shoving Falchion back into its scabbard and turning to making haste for any exit he can find.
Distantly someone, the summoner most likely, is shouting behind him but for the very first time since Chrom's arrival in Askr he wants nothing more than to be alone.
Every day from then he's visited by his summoner but Chrom politely declines to even open the door, choosing to stay within the sparse yet hospitable quarters he's been given. It's a small room, with a comfortable enough bed, a chair and a mirror but it's still better than the war conditions he'd become accustomed to. That being said compared to his own room in his castle it's hardly much but he had never been one for castles anyway, he'd much rather sleep under the stars than in a fortress. Castle walls were stuffy and oppressive, the kind of thing his father would've liked but right now he almost misses them, misses the solitude they brought in ways he's never needed before. A pair of red eyes flashes through his mind and Chrom does his utmost not to add tables to the ever growing list of items he's been breaking since his arrival.
A soft knock at his door pulls him from his thoughts but it's with a bitterness he can't shake that he ignores the person behind it. The knock continues. He ignores it. Finally after one last knock the person behind his door speaks, and Chrom is surprised to find out it is not the summoner.
“Father? It's me.” He rushes to open the door and finds a surprising sight. Marth, no Lucina, is dejectedly staring at his feet refusing to meet his gaze and she idly fidgets with the mask she normally wears resting in her hands rather than hiding her face.
“Lucina” His brain reels for the right thing to say, for the fatherly thing to say but comes up blank. He's had days failing to process what's happened and a horrible feeling settles in his stomach as he suddenly realizes he's not the only one.
“May I come in?” Her voice is hoarse and as he moves by to let her past she rushes to collapse into the small wooden chair that sits by his bedside. Chrom shuts the door, gently now, and lacking the proper furniture to sit by her, he takes a seat on the bed waiting patiently for her to speak.
“I've...” she hesitates, all trouble and tension coiled together and Chrom does his best to remain silent while she fights to get the words out. Let her talk Robin's words echo in his ear she'll talk when she's ready.
“I spoke to her” pain splashed across her features and barely a whisper she adds “to mother”. His hands dig into his knee, knuckles white, as he forces himself to stay silent. Why his mind screams at first but, he realises slowly, his daughter isn't one to avoid her problems. Lucina hadn't had the chance as a child to avoid her problems and likely didn't feel she did now either. She'd confronted Grima then, she'd do it now. He looks up at her and does his best to really observe how she's doing.
“What happened?” Lucina shrinks into herself and as her face twists into a painful grimace showing the hastily dried tears smudged across her face. He reaches out to her and places a hand over hers, she clutches it for dear life.
“I thought” she rushes the words out but stops and takes in a deep breath “I spoke with the summoner and they said that Grima wasn't- that she wasn't necessarily the Grima we knew. Heroes come from all different worlds and that if I maybe spoke with her that I'd, that I'd, I'd.” Her hands are shaking, wrapped around his and he remembers the tiny child whose entire hand barely wrapped around his finger.
“You thought she might be different from the Grima we knew?” She nods hastily but he already knows, he's spent the last day unable to think of anything else. At any possibility that this could simply be a different Robin, or a Grima from a future where things weren't so horrible. It was a foolish thing to think but his heart wasn't so easily swayed when the image of his wife stood before him.
“But she isn't.” Lucina flinches at his words dropping her head low in a sad nod. He'd known it from the moment they'd met eyes. The being in the castle lobby, no matter what world or timeline they had been from had been evil, dripping with malice and glee. For one moment, just one short moment it had even had the gall to look vulnerable. As if something that evil had the right to feel fear rather than misery.
“I just can't believe it. That Kiran of all people would do such a thing.”
“They didn't know” it was the only response he could muster, nothing else made sense “if they truly knew then there's no way.”
“Chrom.” Lucina's hesitant voice draws his attention. Slowly she removes his hand from hers and turns away from him ever so slightly, not meeting his eyes. When she glances over to check she has his attention she looks away again. He's seen her sad before, even in Askr, it had taken a long time to get her to remove her mask and allow him into her life, longer still to go occasionally from 'Chrom' to 'father' but even in those moments of sombre comfort he'd never seen her so devastated. She looks how he feels, he realises distantly.
“I talked to her and she didn't seem” Lucina tenses and he can feel the waves of anxiety in her, she wrings her left hand in her right, a trait he only now realizes she's copied from her mother worrying the forsaken brand beneath her glove. He squeezes her hand gently and moves his other hand to rest on her shoulder.
“She seemed like mother.” His hand freezes in mid-air.
“She isn't.” The words are pain to them both and he hates the sadness he can feel he's causing her but it's a pain they both have to endure, that they will endure “that thing isn't her, no matter how much it seems like it is.” Lucina slumps back against the wooden frame and Chrom lets his hand drop uselessly.
“I thought so too but it's like, it's like she's still there. As if deep within Gri-the fell dragon like mother is still there. Just a piece of her. Something more than that evil hateful thing.” Her eyes are stuck to the floor and slowly he reaches out and pulls her into a steady embrace. Lucina falls into him, grieving silently into his shoulder as he wraps an arm around her. There's so much he wants to say, to reassure and ease all the worries in the world from her but the words that once flowed so naturally from him feel lost and uncertain in his mind.
“I'm sorry. I never wanted this for you. You fought so hard for your own world, for mine. You don't deserve this hardship.” She clutches into him Chrom doesn't think he could move if he wanted to. He stays there, holding her in his embrace tightly. He isn't sure how long they've been sitting there until she slowly peels himself away from him, just looking tired.
“Feeling better?”
“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring this to you it just reopened some old wounds.” she murmurs. He moves to draw her back in but she shakes her head slightly and Chrom gives her the space she needs.
“In the timeline of your world, when we put an end to Grima, I thought that would be the end of it. That the long struggle was finally over.” Something halfway between a sigh and a sob escapes her but she shakes her head and forces herself to look onward.
“Seeing the fell dragon here can't have been easy for you then. It must have been a terrible thing for you.”
“That's not exactly it.” Chrom glanced up in surprise but his daughters gaze was resolute now. “I've seen so many different worlds in Askr, I've had the opportunity to help so many people. In all honesty I was almost waiting for something like this to happen.” A long silence stretches out between them and Chrom goes over each and every word carefully. Lucina had been expecting this or something like this? He glances between his own Falcion, leaning against the doorway, and his daughters still strapped to her hip. She'd been fighting for so long, what else had he missed as her father?
“It's not your burden to bear.” Lucina took in a sharp breath but slowly shook her head.
“Thank you but that's neither here nor there. What I came to talk about was, I confronted her earlier today. I was prepared to do what I had to but what I found, it wasn't what I expected.” Chrom frowned but tucked that fatherly nagging away for later. The important thing Lucina kept bringing up wasn't that the fell dragon was here, but more so that Lucina kept talking about her mother.
“You thought she was like Robin?” Lucina stiffened slightly again but nodded once.
“I know it may be a surprise to you. The Robin I met in your world and the mother I knew were somewhat different people and when I talked with her earlier, even if it was only a small amount, she felt familiar.” It's him now that looks away, unable to meet the gaze of his daughter. His mind is filled with denial, with disgust at the fell dragons actions, with knowledge of how much that monster has hurt his family but Chrom reigns himself in. His daughter is amazing, more so than he thinks he ever could be. To ignore what she's saying would be a worse insulting, she's saved his life more than once and valuing her insight is the least he can do.
“Do you really believe there's anything of Robin within her?” He couldn't shake the mirth and vile those red eyes had cast upon him but at the same time, with a clearer mind, he remembered the fear and hurt he saw in them as Falchion was levelled with her.
“I don't know. My mother... I don't remember much of her to be honest. She was always more stoic and logical. The Robin I met in your world, she wasn't exactly what I had been expecting but I became used to that and then when- in the castle lobby. The fell dragon just reminded me of my own mother.” There's an unfamiliar vileness within Chrom's chest, a hatred that he's only ever associated with the late mad King of Plegia. Was this how his father had felt, was this what had driven him so terribly? He looked at Lucina who met his gaze. She looked like Robin herself, unafraid of what she would find out if she went back to Grima. Between the two of them he felt quite the child.
“I'll talk to her.” Lucina startled at his words.
“That's not what I'd meant- I just wanted to get your input and-”
“Lucina please” Chrom tried his best to sound authoritative but not forceful, refusing to look away from her “you've done so much, for so many. Please just this once let me be your father. Let me do this for you.”
Lucina had agreed tentatively to let Chrom talk with her next. They hadn't managed to talk about much else, apparently the summoner had mentioned new Shepherds would be appearing soon and while the news should've overjoyed him it felt hollow in comparison to what lay ahead of him. As time dwindled on the shafts of light peeking through his door frame grew dimer and dimer and Lucina rose to excuse herself, clasping her mask back into place and using the small mirror on his wall to adjust her hair.
Now as Marth she turned to him and nodded once before opening the door and taking a confident step out into the lamp lit corridor.
“Lucina.” She stopped in his doorway but did not turn to face him.
“You're not alone you know, not while I'm still here. The next time something happens and you feel the need to do what you have to, please, know that I'll do whatever I can for you.” Her hand lingers on the doorway before she slowly nods.
“Thank you” she turns her head towards him ever so slightly and the mask upon her face gleams in the moonlight of the open window behind her “father.”
Finding a single person in the Order of Heroes isn't as easy as he'd imagined and the long time stalking through corridor after corridor leaves Chrom with an uncomfortable amount of time with his own thoughts. In his mind he's left with only one image now, of his sword pointed straight at the fell dragons chest and the uneasy fear of Robin's face. His mind is desperately pleading with him to connect the dots, to just consider and put two and two together, to realise that the hurt expression on Robin's face is a cry for help. To realise that everything would be okay, that even if in Ylisse things had gone wrong, that here in Askr, he could find a family once more.
But Chrom remembers his daughter. He remembers the girl that fought so hard in her own timeline, only to be forced to abandon her world, to refuse rest and continue to fight endlessly here. He remembers his wife, a woman so wonderful and selfless that she sacrificed everything she had for people who would never even know her name. Chrom remembers his grieving son left speechless and isolated in the dust behind them all. The hole Grima left in their family. As he walks through the empty corridors and steels himself Chrom remembers that the world can be far too cruel for those that least deserve it.
He finds her alone in a secluded and tranquil part of the castle, a small courtyard with grassland and greenery complimented with flowers and even a humble tree. It feels wrong somehow to see the bringer of ruin and despair sitting in such an otherwise peaceful place. She turns to look at him and there's something quiet in her expression, the disdain is still there but there's something hidden beneath it too like she's unsure of just what she truly is seeing. He forces himself forwards, one foot after another until finally he's nearly face to face with her.
“Why have you come here?” It's not until her sharp demand reaches his ears that Chrom realises all his anger is still there, just under his skin, talking with Lucina had calmed him somewhat but it had also reminded him of how, in another timeline, he had lost so much.
“I could ask that of you. What right do you have to be here?” He spits. She does not look impressed.
“I was wandering the castle.”
“That's not what I meant” He raises all the royal authority of an Exalt he can but is met with the haughty look of a displeased child “why are you here in Askr?” Her eyes narrow as she stares him down and a long silence stretches between them. Surprisingly though it is Grima who backs down first, folding her arms and looking away from him.
“I've spent much time now, talking with prattling worms, the one that brought me to this world is quite persistent. Kiran” It's strange to hear the summoners name uttered like a curse, a word to be treated with caution. Chrom pushes forward.
“And?” Grima's eyes flick casually to his shoulder and then the brand that glows vibrantly on the back of her own hand.
“I have decided to stay. For now.” She declares, as if the person who destroyed his daughters life has that right.
“You don't get to decide that.” The anger is bubbling now but he keeps it sharp like the edge of Falchion. He lets the anger flow freely but he thinks of Lucina, battered and bruised and pushed through a living hell to get to him. He thinks of his son, locked in the library and pouring over countless books for a way to get back someone who would never return. The anger drives him but his family keeps him rooted to the ground. “You don't deserve to be here.” Grima however seems to think this novel.
“I have as much of a right to be here as you do. It is unlike you to be so indirect Exalt.” Grima's tone is mocking but there's an unnerving feeling beneath it. Hesitation? She shifts her weight from one foot to another uneasily but does not meet his gaze.
“What are you talking about?”
“You are not upset that I am here, if you had made peace with your own choices you would have no qualms about my existence here. I would merely be a reminder of your accomplishments.” She turns to look at him again now and her eyes burn a red through the night sky above them as she sneers. “Even after cheating the very hands of time you cannot accept the reality you fought so hard to accomplish.”
Chrom feels as if he's been slapped.
“I don't regret a thing.” He forces the words out of himself “we defeated you.” He expects some kind of jab back, an insult thrown his way or a long rant what he doesn't expect is for the fell dragon to laugh.
“A defeat? Surely that's a stalemate at best. I defeated myself, if I wished to do it here I would not be standing before you.” Chrom took a deep breath but forced himself to remain still, to hold back his anger until the last moment.
“You are not Robin. Your defeat was no stalemate, you didn't do it to yourself. You were bested.” The idea that this thing, as Robin, had defeated herself was ludicrous. Grima opens her mouth to retort but stops, both to her own and Chrom's surprise the fell dragon takes a step back and uncrossed her arms and he feels her unease in himself as she slowly returns to that troubled frightened expression.
“There is no difference. Robin or Grima. It is the same.” She snorts in faux-annoyance and frustration but not with disdain. It's more casual and it painfully reminds him of Morgan, how stubborn his son could be when challenged on important matters.
“Robin would never do any of the things you've done.” He stomps each word out but the anger inside him suddenly feels muted, somewhat distant and he curses his heart for feeling any sympathy for the fell dragon.
“I am Robin.” The words leave a heavy silence in the air and suddenly even Grima looks taken aback by what she has said.
“When I became Grima I never stopped being myself. The fell dragon was in front of me, doing the thinking while I remained a prisoner to its whims but in time what was Grima and what was Robin blurred until I am what I am.” She looked hesitant, almost unsure of what she was saying, as if the words were unknown even to her. Chrom isn't falling for it.
“Then you killed her.” She shakes her head but fixes him with a patient stare. It's like Robin, as if they're discussing strategy, casually pointing out his mistakes and patiently correcting him.
“I am Robin. The incarnation of the fell dragon. The only thing that separated us were our memories, when I accepted Grima I slowly regained those until I became what I am. I am the wings of despair. I am the breath of ruin. I am Grima.” It was like a mantra she repeated to herself and each word was a painful stab into Chrom's heart. A stab at the memory of his wife, of everything she had sacrificed herself for. Robin and Grima couldn't be further from each other.
“Robin could never do what you did. How could Robin inflict such hatred upon her family, upon her kingdom, her very world!?” Despite the harshness of his tone the fell dragon tilted her head and in almost quiet contemplation said.
“I do not hate you.” Chrom blinked. That was the absolute last thing he had ever expected to hear, it was so odd that it left him somewhat speechless.
“You killed me” Chrom insisted “Robin saw it, she had visions.” Warm bubbly laughter escapes Grima but it's not unkind, it's not cruel, merely amused. She fixes him with an odd smile that makes his stomach churn for the person he loved, her words however have the opposite effect.
“I am Grima. I am a god to you pathetic worms, something as negligible as death is of little concern to me.” Chrom is suddenly desperate for the anger within himself, where had it gone? It had been so easy to focus on it before but now, with this thing resembling his wife talking so jovially, his anger felt somewhat out of reach.
“What do you mean?” She raises an eyebrow.
“I resurrected you.” The words are pure whiplash. All at once Chrom feels the bottom drop out of his stomach. He can barely respond in a mixture of horror and disgust.
“Y-you what?” She stares him down somehow managing to look both bored and mildly amused before something seems to click for her.
“Not like the other Risen of course. No, I kept you intact, personality and all. You couldn't disobey me of course but such things hardly-” her voice is muted suddenly, there's a horrible buzzing in Chrom's ears as he watches this horrid disgusting creature parading in the body of a human talk to him. He feels sick, it was as if every part of her that seemed Robin was dashed away until all that was left was the horrible truth of what Grima really was. A creature that murdered at will, pulling corpses out of the ground to treat as puppets.
“Honestly for a lowly human such as yourself such a thing was an honour.”
“That's enough!” He hadn't meant to bellow but his anger had crept up on him, bursting out through the muted unease the conversation had left him in causing Grima to flinch in a very ungodly fashion.
“How dare you?” She begins but Chrom doesn't give her the chance, anger coursing through him at the monster before him and the fool he was for having hope for it.
“How dare I!? God's I can't believe what foolish part of me believed that there could be any of Robin still left within you!” As he reaches for Falchion however Chrom suddenly feels cold empty air by his side. As he glances down at his side his brain comprehends the true horror of his situation. Falchion is still within his room. He is alone here, unarmed and facing down the fell dragon. As he turns to her though Grima's eyes have narrowed into slits but rather than responding to his aggression she is taking the time to look at everything around her that isn't him.
“Then away with you. I have no use for your foolish idealistics. If you cannot rationalize the reality before you then begone.” His hatred returns, as quick as it left, at the gall of her to dismiss him. To intrude on this world and act as if she had a right to dictate the actions of the peaceful people within.
“Keep your distance. Stay away from everyone here, every single hero here is your better and you don't deserve to speak with any of them. Not with the summoner, not with me and most certainly not with my daughter.” Grima glares at him and suddenly it's Robin's glare, the cool calculated one Morgan would receive for rushing cavalry into heavily forested terrain or pegasus knights too close to stray archers. A look bereft of hatred, but with the pointed need to correct.
“You are not her father.” He opens his mouth to retort but suddenly finds her words confusing.
“What?”
“I said” she repeats slowly “you are not her father and for that matter neither am I your wife, something that seems to be your impression given your anger.” Chrom scoffs but finds he cannot continue, there's something wrong about this nagging at the back of his head but he can't quite put his finger on it yet.
“I am Lucina's mother.” She clarifies, seemingly taking his silence as reason to continue “The Lucina of this timeline, the one that disguises herself. The Robin you knew, I am not her. You were right about that I suppose.” She adds the last part quietly, looking away from him oddly.
“That's a lie.” She stares at him befuddled and it feels somewhat good to see the confusion on her face as he catches her out.
“What?” He lets her seethe in confusion for a moment before answering.
“That would make you the Grima of Lucina's timeline.”
“Correct.” She says with an over dramatic huff as if such an obscure knowledge was meant to be common sense.
“The Grima of her timeline is dead. I watched Robin, my Robin, kill her. She took you into the abyss with herself.” Grima stares at him silently.
“And what of it?” He splutters at her words.
“You died. You both died. She died and she took you with you. You died, in that timeline you are dead.” She stresses each word, each hateful use of the word dead with all the anger he can, all the emotional tide he's kept back at the loss of his wife compounded into one series of sentences.
“Died and returned several hundred years later, this is what I mean when I say you humans have a negligible understanding of death.” He isn't in the mood for her games, his hands clench and unclench as she berates him like a child but he can't help himself from pausing as she continues.
“She will return too you realise?” He glances up at her and cursed the hope he feels at those words. Waiting for a malicious laugh, a hateful sneer about how happy he looked at her words but none come. Grima simply looks at him.
“I see, so you're from the time between when she died and before she returns. She will return in due time. I have her memories after all. How ironic, you came here thinking you knew my fate and yet I am the one from your future.” Grima smirks but it lacks the hateful bite he's expecting. Chrom was about to continue when an abrupt noise drew both their attention to the corridor behind him. Before he can move to investigate Grima calls out.
“Kiran? Is that you, you worm?” Grima's expression deliberately soured “I said if you brought any more of those foolish heroes to speak with me than I shall-” the wind was abruptly stolen from both her own sails and Chrom's as, sword drawn, Marth slowly rounded the corner and froze upon seeing both her parents standing haphazardly under a tree.
Apparently in his rush to find Grima, Chrom had left his door open and Falchion quite visible behind it. Lucina had noticed and come looking to return it to him, she had not expected to catch them both in quite the heated argument. Lucina glanced awkwardly between the two of them as she handed his blade to him. With the caution of treading on thin glass she asked.
“What's going on?” Chrom feels conflict settle in his chest. On one hand he's disgusted with the creature behind him, the horrible thing that could so casually talk of resurrecting him and stripping him of free will and yet, at the same time. As horrible as Grima was, as monstrous as the thing behind him was, there was something else there. Something, however horrible, that was less terrible than he'd been expecting. He looks to Grima who has slinked down to rest against the tree, pointedly ignoring them both.
“I'm not sure.” He answers as honestly as he can.
“Join me if you would like” with all the shock in the world Chrom pulls himself to confirm that it was indeed Grima that has offered her company to them “or leave. It doesn't truly matter.” It was like standing on a tipping point. Everything he had learned so far reinforced one simple thing, this was Grima. This Grima and Robin were not remotely similar, even if she had some of another Robin within her, it wasn't his Robin. There was no reason to stay and yet, looking to his side he saw the hesitation in Lucina, his true daughter or not what mattered in the end was being the father she needed. If there was a slim hope for happiness for her, Lucina deserved it. Against every fibre of his being, against all good judgement in the world, against any form of rationality Chrom moved himself between Grima and his daughter and pushed himself down next to the fell dragon leaving himself a swords distance and leaned back against the tree. Tentatively, like a mouse trying to sneak around a cat, Lucina slowly crouched down next to him. Neither of their hands left their weapons.
An agony of silence passed.
“When was the last time you slept?” The father daughter duo jumped, startled by the sudden question. Chrom began to answer but was quickly cut off, as Grima indicated she wasn't talking to him but to Lucina.
“I. Well.”
“You look as if you haven't slept in days.” Lucina didn't answer, likely as unsure as he was on how to process the being that destroyed your entire world showing some form of concern for you. As Chrom tried to get a look at her, the mask wasn't helping, he did notice she looked rather pale.
“It's” Lucina glanced between himself and the fell dragon before finally turning to look at him “it's been difficult. I haven't slept properly since you arrived.” Grima hmm'd in response, whatever that meant. Chrom filed that away later for fatherly nagging, or at least a plan to ensure his daughter had a good nights sleep. The silence continued.
It was deafening. The weight of the questions all three of them had and the tension as no one dared be the first to act on them.
“The flowers are nice.” He tried at some vague notion of normality between a time traveller and the god of ruin.
“They are nice” Lucina agreed. He turned tentatively to Grima who raised an eyebrow at him.
“They'll wither and die shortly, a few seasons at best.” He gave her a harsh look and against all odds she seemed to shift uncomfortably “but they are nice. Yes.”
The silence continued. Eventually, after a few more lukewarm attempts at conversation the breathing to Chrom's side slowed and as he carefully observed, Lucina had fallen asleep. He wasn't exactly sure what to do, Grima clearly noticed but hadn't moved to do anything and while he wasn't comfortable letting her sleep around Grima he was loathsome to disturb her when she clearly needed the rest.
They had been sitting in silence for awhile now and it was almost comfortable. Almost. The Lucina of this world, that disguised herself constantly and refused to allow herself time to relax had so rarely let her guard down, even around him. So to see her like this now, even if she hadn't meant to, relaxing. Chrom wasn't sure what to feel.
He was eyeing Grima still just out of the corner of his eye more so for Lucina's sake than his own. However this felt far too embarrassing a ruse for the fell dragon of all people, the same being that had destroyed entire continents on a whim sitting down to admire flowers with her supposed family? Askr was really doing a number on Chrom's understanding of the world. Maybe that was a good talking point his brain suggested.
“This hasn't gone exactly as I expected.” Chrom tried broaching some semblance of normality.
“Humans.” Grima said as if it were an insult “you never do.”
“For someone who dislikes us so much you seem very content to sit and admire flowers together.”
“I am not admiring this dirt.” Grima said glaring at the flowers.
“Then what are you doing?”
“I am watching over my daughter.” Chrom felt the same aggravation he had previously but kept himself from raising his voice, less to wake said daughter.
“You tried to kill her.”
“I killed you.” She finished simply, looking at him as if this weren't strange. In response to his glare she seemed to hesitate somewhat before nodding to the flowers.
“Those will wither and die soon, crumple back into the soil to be eaten by ground beneath them. Does that not distress you?” For Lucina's sake Chrom did his best to be charitable.
“They're flowers. Someone will plant new ones.”
“And is that what I am to do?” She said turning fully to him “after you both die and wither and I live on? To simply plant new flowers?” Chrom blinked. He hadn't really thought about the concept of an immortal dragon having attachments to mortal things.
“That's why you resurrected me?” He wasn't really sure how to feel about that, never mind that she hadn't exactly given him free will or even a choice in doing so. Grima hadn't exactly given anyone an option before she'd begun the slaughter.
“Indeed. You would be immortal, as of course anyone else we deemed worthy would be.” Chrom considered that carefully, 'anyone we deemed worthy'. He'd never really been good at the selfless part of leadership, that had been Robin's field. Chrom was not the person to sacrifice his wife, or even himself, for the sake of everyone else. When it had come to the final confrontation with Grima he had been very clear. His family mattered first, the world second. If his grandchildren had to take up the mantle against Grima in a thousand years then so be it, he wasn't about to let Robin die for them. In a twisted and very disturbing fashion he could somewhat appreciate the idea of such selfishness at the compromise of others. There was still a very clear problem with that however.
“And why does everything else have to die for you to accomplish that? Ridding the world of flowers hardly saves the few you decide to keep.” Grima once again pointed to the patch of grass.
“Tell me. Do you plant seeds haphazardly and allow them to grow as they please forever, or do you plant them in ways that will best benefit them?” Benefit them he scoffed. He absolutely didn't like the way this conversation was going. The idea that uprooting flowers and killing people were similar or that a dragon should have as much control over the world as a gardener did over a flowerbed was sickening.
“People are not flowers.” Grima rolled her eyes.
“After a few thousand years you may find plant life to be far more preferable than people.” She's wrong. He knows she wrong and he's unsettled by the idea that Grima could think she's right but it's a different off putting feeling. There's no malice from her suddenly, there's almost a loneliness to the being sitting by him. Like she genuinely wants to be understood. It occurs to Chrom suddenly that the one thing an immortal being would want is probably companionship.
“But in the short few years of Robin's life she found preference in people, in a family. If you truly believe you are her, does that not mean humans can be preferable to you too?” Grima leans back against the tree, looking up at the sky and averting her gaze from him. The stars had begun to shine, unique unfamiliar dots in this unfamiliar sky and Chrom can't help but feel nostalgic for the night sky of Ylisse.
“I may have reassessed my viewpoint of you-you...” her red eyes glance towards him for just a moment before returning upwards into the starry sky above them “people.” She settles on the word again as if dipping her toe into new waters, unsure of the temperature.
“So we foolish worms finally gave you something worth listening to then?” It's an odd feeling, to feel so comfortable that he could poke fun at the fell dragon but-
“You could say that.” Her tone is lighter, not at all unpleasant, lacking the mirth it usually carried. It felt like Robin, his Robin, he realised with a pang of longing. He leaned back into the tree and shut his eyes, letting his hand drift away from Falchion and instead choosing to focus on Lucina's gentle breathing. For the first time in the presence of Grima he finds himself comfortable.
“Kiran got to you?” The summoner's name is unfamiliar on his lips but for he's far beyond formalities right now. With all the stress of the past few days he just doesn't have the anything kingly left in him at the moment. Grima huffs but there's an exaggeratedness to it, it's almost playful, nostalgic.
“No, no. The voice of that old fool appeared recently, summoned as I was before her. I discussed things and well...” Grima did not continue. That old fool? It wouldn't be, would it?
“Naga?” He asked cautiously as if the name itself was broaching strange territory. He's not really sure how to address feuds between figures that were openly worshipped. Grima snorts.
“No. Her voice, the child you found at the Mila tree.” After Chrom's continued silence Grima chides him not quite annoyed but not pleasantly either. It's painfully like Robin. “She gave you the Starsphere, Azure, she called it. Honestly do all you worms have such pathetic-”
“Tiki?” He asks before Grima can begin ranting, he wasn't ready to handle her dramatic flare just yet. She huffs indulgently but there's still a mildness to it. It reminds him of Robin shooing him away from her studying sessions in the library, insisting she was busy and he must leave only to continuously find new topics to talk about making sure he'd stay just a little bit longer.
“Yes, that one. The summoner sent a fresh batch of fools my way mere hours ago and that child was amongst them, brandishing fruit no less. They all had no shortage of things to prattle on about.”
Chrom peeks an eye open at that but Grima has mirrored him, laying back with her eyes closed looking relaxed and as perfectly normal as the young girl sleeping on his other side. Why exactly Tiki had been mustering perishables at the Fell Dragon of all people was beyond him but Grima didn't continue and he didn't ask. Whatever Tiki and presumably Kiran had gotten through to Grima had clearly been for the better, who was he to look a gift horse in the mouth. He fell into a comfortable silence. Himself, his daughter from another timeline and her mother. All neatly together. It had been exhausting, a whirlwind of emotions getting through such a short amount of time but if Grima and Robin were similar then perhaps there was something in her, something more human he could relate to, something more Robin, to be cherished and flourish. Whoever the miracle was that had made this happen was someone he'd have to thank later, he honestly wouldn't have thought the summoner was up the task. He kept his eyes shut, ignoring the sound of footsteps passing them by in the courtyard, this time was for them he decided, they'd earned it and this was too good to spoil.
“What kind of fruit?” He asked not really expecting an answer.
“Believe it or not but she had a melon.” The voice by his side was different now, far more familiar, more cheerful and alive and Chrom allowed himself to smile. A melon of all things? He opened his eyes to look over at her but Robin is standing before him now, on her feet and looking gently down at him. She's dressed scantily in her boots, with her cloak draped around her like a mantle and of all things she's carrying a spear which securely stuck on the end is-
“A fish?” His eyes slowly drag themselves between the fell dragon to his side, eyes stubbornly shut, to the miracle worker standing above him. Robin's kind eyes smile down at him and carefully she extends a hand bereft of any brand towards him.
“There are better places to take a nap than on the ground you know.”