Chapter Text
“It’s hard to believe… we’re truly going through with this…”
Chrom glances at his counterpart, the Fell Exalt. If one of them simply changed his color scheme, their clothing would be nearly identical. He supposes that their faces are a little different—the Fell Exalt’s is a little older, a little more exhausted, and… well, obviously more corpselike. Still, no one could doubt that the two of them share an identity, despite the differences in their fates.
That’s why what they’re doing is going to work.
“I’m grateful for your cooperation,” Chrom says. “Truly, from the bottom of my heart… Thank you.”
“I should be the one… thanking you,” the Fell Exalt says. “Never did I imagine… I could be free of this… cursed form…”
“Aw, pal, if I’d known you didn’t like your body sooner, I would have traded with you a long time ago!” Henry chimes in. “Are you sure you really want to do this with yourself and not me? I’ve always wanted to know what being a corpse would feel like…”
“No…” the Fell Exalt groans. “Henry… Please… Don’t be so quick to give up your life… You should enjoy what precious time you have…”
“Besides,” Chrom says. “This was my plan, remember? I’m afraid this is the only way I’ll ever be able to get close enough to Grima to talk to him.”
“It won’t make a difference…,” the Fell Exalt says. “The Robin I once knew… no longer exists within him… He will not be kind to you… no matter how much you hope…”
“I understand your concern,” Chrom says. “But I already made the mistake of writing him off in my own world. Now that I have a chance to do better… I have to try.”
Chrom can’t forgive himself for what he did. He said that it wasn’t good enough to put Grima back to sleep for a thousand years… And his tactician agreed with him, so Robin proposed a solution that Naga herself said would work—he would destroy the fell dragon at the cost of his own existence. It wasn’t a decision Robin should have ever had to even think about, let alone make! But make it he did, all because Chrom was too stupid to see anything but violence as the answer to his problems. When he declared ”We must find some way to break this unholy cycle!” he should have realized right then and there that it was impossible to do so in a battle.
Honestly, you’d think he’d learned nothing from his sister! The way to peace is not through war, but through the people’s hearts. Gangrel lost his war not when Chrom stabbed him, but when his people ceased supporting him and lowered their weapons in the memory of Emmeryn’s words. Walhart was not defeated by the Ylissean League’s struggling army, but by the people of Valm finally coming together to free themselves from his tyranny.
If only it hadn’t taken Chrom so long to see… If only he’d realized what it meant when they first discovered Robin had Grima’s heart… If only he’d truly listened when Grima said ”I told you, I’m Robin. The Robin that murdered you and became the fell dragon, Grima.” He was so, so stupid. To Lucina, he gave an apology for leaving her with nothing but one sword and a world of troubles. To Robin…
To Robin, he gave harsh words, hatred, and self-righteous judgment.
Is it any wonder that his Robin chose to die rather than trust in him? He probably thought that deep down, Chrom wanted him dead, too.
The Fell Exalt gazes at him with understanding. He may not know Chrom’s exact feelings, but he knows what kind of person they both are.
“I also have much to make up for…” the Fell Exalt says. “In your world… I swear I will not fall again… I will work for peace alongside everyone… And, as for Robin…”
He closes his eyes.
“I have been to the land of the dead… and back…” he says. “If he is anywhere between those realms… I will find him…”
“Good,” Chrom says. “I could never leave my world without an Exalt. But with you there, I know our friends will be in good hands.”
“Nya ha! You think anyone’s going to notice?” Henry asks. “If you’re lucky, you might completely get away with it. Where I’m from, you’re kind of a mysterious guy, even though you always hang out with all the soldiers. It’s like everyone knows you, but nobody knows what you’re really thinking.”
“Really?” Chrom frowns. “I never thought of myself as secretive…”
“You’ll have to be… now,” the Fell Exalt says. “If Grima discovers you’re deceiving him…”
He winces.
“I’ll be careful,” Chrom promises.
He’s never been good at hiding his feelings. For his best friend’s sake, though, he’ll pretend whatever he has to.
“Alright-y, if both of you are ready, I can cast the spell now,” Henry says.
“I… am…” the Fell exalt says.
“Go ahead, Henry,” Chrom agrees.
Chrom has been hit by Henry’s magic before—accidentally, he’s pretty sure—but now that he has the chance to deliberately experience one of his curses head-on, he can really appreciate just how far Henry has come since joining the Shepherds. He was really just a boy, albeit a talented one, when Chrom first met him… and now he is the only person Chrom would ever trust with the task of herding his soul into a different body.
Things really do change, and people along with them. That is the fundamental source of all of Chrom’s hopes.
“Okay, here we go!” Henry grins, oblivious to Chrom’s sentimental thoughts. “KA-BLAMMMO!”
Chrom wasn’t expecting fanfare, per se, but it’s a little shocking at how quickly and easily the magic works. One second, he’s in the body he’s grown with since birth, and the next—
“Arggghhh…”
The Fell Exalt’s body is so cold… So heavy… Being a corpse is definitely not the delight Henry thinks it ought to be. Gods, he is really going to have to put some training in if he wants to get around in this thing.
His counterpart is having a very different reaction to his new body, though.
“Haha! It worked!” the Fell Exalt exclaims. “This is amazing… M-My heart is racing! There’s blood pumping through it!”
“Woohoo!” Henry cheers. “Isn’t blood just the best?”
“Well, I’ve certainly gained a new perspective on it, and—” the Fell Exalt turns to Chrom, his eyes suddenly widening. “Uh-oh… Are you alright? No, wait, stupid question—”
Chrom shakes his head.
“I’m… good…” he says. “Very… good…”
He lets out a laugh. It’s a little rougher than usual, it being harder to breathe than he’s used to—he fully understands now why the Fell Exalt had trouble speaking in this body—but he’s not lying. He does feel good, despite the general issues that come with having a dead body. It’s all because there’s something better than blood coursing through his veins: power. Robin’s power.
Once, the fell energy within him would have frightened him, back when he believed it was nothing but harmful magic used for evil. But he saw with his own eyes how Robin used the very same power to attack his future self, to put an end to the fell dragon for good… That power was always within him, always fueling him. Every time he saved Chrom’s life, every time he protected his allies, every time he defended innocent lives, it was that same power at his core being used for good. That is why Chrom can not only accept but appreciate the power that now binds his body to a higher master.
It binds him to Robin.
The Fell Exalt looks at him like he’s concerned Chrom might have lost his mind during the body swap. But it’s only natural that he doesn’t understand—he has yet to live in a world where Robin cannot be found anymore, not even hidden in the deepest depths of a dragon’s heart.
Really, if there’s anyone the Fell Exalt should be worried about, it’s himself. If he thinks leading a country that barely knows what peace is into a bright future is going to be easy, he’s the one who’s lost his mind.
“Good.. work… Henry…” Chrom says, ignoring his other self’s continued frown. “Finally, I… I’m so close… to the meeting I’ve longed for…”
“Please… Do not get your hopes up,” the Fell Exalt warns him yet again. “I’m sorry… I know it isn’t what you want to hear… And I know you won’t believe me, anyway. But… I feel so selfish. I’m getting a second chance, and you’re getting…”
“Stop…” Chrom says. “Take… your second chance… Just… let me have mine too…”
Chrom and his counterpart sigh at the same time.
“What a pair we are…” the Fell Exalt mutters. “Though, I suppose our similarity is the point. I have to admit, part of me is relieved that I’m not the only Chrom with shortcomings. At least my world wasn’t doomed solely because of my own vices…”
“Yeah…”
Not that Chrom is any more pleased with his own vices. No matter what the Askrans say about him being a “Brave Hero,” he knows that he didn’t save the world. He didn’t save anyone.
In truth, even if his plan fails, and Grima tears him apart the moment he steps foot in the Fell Exalt’s world, it would be nothing he doesn’t deserve.
But there’s no need to burden his other self with that thought.
Sighing again, the Fell Exalt turns to Henry.
“So, does everything check out?” he asks. “Are we good to stay like this… for the rest of our lives?”
“Yep! Your souls are super stable,” Henry says. “I guess they like where they are. And your bodies are just happy to have any Chrom in them. You shouldn’t have any problems! Except for the problems you already had, of course.”
“Oh… Only… those,” Chrom rasps.
Henry isn’t bothered by the sarcasm, and he nods.
“Yeah, that’s all,” he says cheerfully. “And hey, I just want to say that I’m really glad we got together and did this. It’s a shame you two have to go back to each other’s worlds now. There’s so much more dark magic I could show you, nya ha!”
“Heh… Sorry, Henry,” the Fell Exalt says. “I… can’t wait any longer. You never know when your final hour might come, and so… if there’s something you want to do, you have to do it while you have the chance. That’s what I’ve come to realize.”
“But… don’t let our haste… dampen your spirits…” Chrom says. “Askr… is a place of opportunity… I am sure… you can use your talents… to impress others…”
“You think? Hmm, but I don’t usually care that much about getting praised…” Henry tilts his head in thought. “There’s just something about you that makes practicing magic even more fun than usual, I guess.”
“Well… in that case…” Chrom smiles as much as his body will let him. “Keep practicing… and when you return to your world someday… you can show your Chrom… all he missed out on…”
“Yeah, good idea!” Henry says, cheerful as ever. “Maybe he’ll want to switch bodies, too. I should make some notes on what I did here, just in case.”
The Fell Exalt chuckles.
“Alright,” he says. “Just don’t tell on us until we’re gone.”
“Nya ha! No way,” Henry assures both Chroms. “Your secret’s safe with me!”
Henry is good on his word, and they’re able to maintain their subterfuge, though the Summoner seems slightly suspicious of them asking to be sent home at the same time.
“Funny how you both remembered something incredibly important you had to do in your home worlds,” Kiran says, narrowing their eyes. “Especially seeing how pleased you were to get a break from them…”
“Well, er…” the Fell Exalt rubs his neck sheepishly. “Fate calls…”
“Can’t get… complacent…” Chrom nods. “Have to… keep moving…”
“Uh-huh,” Kiran says, unimpressed. They sigh. “Well, whatever you’re up to, it’s not like I can keep you here against your will. Go ahead and get in the summoning circle and I’ll send you back. Um, one at a time though, please. Otherwise the whole room will explode with hero feathers.”
“I’ll go first,” the Fell Exalt says.
“… Fine…” Chrom agrees, though he can’t suppress his irritation. While he doesn’t doubt that his counterpart is eager, he has a feeling that the Fell Exalt’s true motive is to give Chrom a moment longer to change his mind.
The good news is that there’s no time for them to argue about it. The moment the Fell Exalt reaches the altar, the Summoner’s weapon, Breidablik, begins to glow. The Fell Exalt, too, begins to glow, and after a few seconds, he disappears.
Kiran brushes some hero feathers off the altar and gestures for Chrom to approach.
Chrom steps forward, surprisingly calm. Breidablik glows, and Robin’s power surges within him in response, as if it knows it is returning to its rightful place and is glad of it. Closing his eyes, Chrom braces himself…
… And then he lands in his new home.
Immediately, his knees buckle—he’s just off-balance enough in his new body that any sudden movement is unsettling—but his reflexes are still quick, and he can right himself without having to hit the ground.
But then a loud voice near his ear makes him wonder if he should have ducked and rolled after all.
“What is the meaning of this?” Grima shouts. Thankfully, his dragon form doesn’t seem to be around at the moment, so his roaring is relegated to a mortal volume. “What are you doing here?”
“Ah…”
Wincing, Chrom turns around… But though he’s longed for this moment for years, it somehow still comes as a shock to him to see the man before him again. Grima… Robin… His dearest friend, no matter what differences exist between their worlds.
“Er… M-Master… Grima…” Chrom greets. It feels weird to call Grima his master so directly, but he recalls that the two Morgans in Askr who served the fell dragon always used that form of address. “I… have returned… from the Kingdom of Askr… The people there… had no need of me…”
It’s not a lie, either. When Chrom first arrived, the Summoner was impressed with him, but it seemed to Chrom that everywhere he looked there was some other hero who could fight even better. And it only got worse over time… Kiran’s summons kept coming with more and more powerful sets of skills. That’s why Chrom never had any qualms making his plan to leave both his home world and Askr behind.
Nobody’s going to miss him very much.
“Oh, really.” Grima glares at him. “So you decided to come pester me.”
Chrom isn’t surprised that Grima isn’t happy to see him—the Fell Exalt did say he wouldn’t be kind to him, after all—but, still… Ouch.
“I thought… I could still be useful…” Chrom says. “Here… beside you…”
“Useful…” Grima mutters. “Normally, I would gladly milk your strength for all its worth. However…”
He glances to the side. Following his gaze, Chrom sees… a whole lot of nothing. It’s dark, the horizon is clouded with smoke, there aren’t any distinctive landmarks around, and even what little vegetation there is looks like it’s on the brink of death.
“There’s nothing left to kill,” Grima says. “You were mistaken to believe you could do anything here.”
No, he wasn’t. So the world is devoid of life—Chrom doesn’t feel great about it, no. But it does at least make it easy to get Grima alone.
“Isn’t… serving you… enough?” he asks.
“Serving me… You mean as my attendant,” Grima says. “Right. The role you played when I wasn’t sending you out to battle. Of course… I suppose I might yet know some convenience for your efforts.”
“So… that’s… a yes?”
Grima gives Chrom yet another glare. But there’s a gleam in his eyes, too. He’s evaluating Chrom, and that’s a lot better for Chrom than getting dismissed outright.
“Hmph. This is your only option.” Grima sighs. “Very well. You shall return to the Dragon’s Table with me. Come.”
“… Alright…” Chrom agrees.
Familiar as he is with the Dragon’s Table, he should in theory have some idea of where they are based on the route they’re taking, but the truth is, Chrom can’t recognize any of his surroundings.
“Are we… in Ylisse…?” Chrom tries to ask Grima. “Plegia…? Or…? I can’t see… anything…”
“Human political boundaries have no meaning anymore,” Grima says. “The nations of this world crumbled so easily…”
Chrom grits his teeth. He has a few things he’d like to say about that response—just a little constructive criticism about Grima’s clear effort to say absolutely nothing about what Chrom actually wants to know—but he has the sense to hold his tongue.
Grima is obviously not in the mood to ramble at the moment. He just keeps walking forward, his brow furrowed in thought, not even sparing Chrom a glance. His frown grows deeper and deeper.
Frankly, he seems exhausted. The Grima Chrom fought in his old world never showed any signs of distraction, not even when his plans started going awry. Of course, it would have been foolish to show weakness to his enemies. To this Grima, though, he isn’t an enemy…
Chrom’s expression softens.
“Are we… close to camp…?” he asks. “Sorry… With all this smoke…I can’t tell…”
“Camp…?” Grima turns towards him, still somewhat in a daze.
“You… need to… rest…” Chrom says. “No reason to… push yourself…”
If humanity truly is gone, then Grima ought to have all the time in the world to take it easy… But Chrom wouldn’t be surprised if Grima didn’t know how to do that at all.
After all, the Robin Chrom knew never took a break without an argument, even with every Shepherd in camp begging him to. In this world of darkness, it looks like it’s going to be up to Chrom to push Grima to slow down.
Luckily for him, it’s what any good servant would do for their master, anyway.
“I… also need to rest…” Chrom says.
As Chrom suspected, saying that gives Grima more pause than referring to Grima’s own needs does. Grima’s gaze sweeps over him, calculating.
“I see…” Then, abruptly, Grima turns away from him. “If you want a camp, Chrom, then you’d better get to building one. Or did the worms in that other world destroy your love of labor?”
“Oh… Er… No…” Quite the contrary—when he wasn’t suited for the battlefield, doing odd jobs and running errands around the castle gave him a sense of purpose instead. “I… would be happy to…”
He starts by getting a fire going, thinking that Grima might at least get warm by its side while Chrom figures out how to make a proper shelter in such an unwelcoming environment. Grima isn’t very impressed by the idea, but it speaks to his fatigue that he settles near the flame anyway. The flickering light reflects in his pensive eyes.
“Hey…” Chrom says. “Er… Master Grima… Should I… build separate shelters for us… or… should we… share… or what…?”
Grima’s lips quirk upwards.
“You don’t want to sleep with me anymore?” he asks.
He says it too innocently. He’s messing with Chrom.
But even so…
“That’s… not it…!” Chrom insists. “I… got used to sleeping alone… in Askr…”
And even before that. With Robin gone, there was no one to share a tent with anymore, not without disrupting everyone else’s usual sleeping arrangements. And back in Ylisstol… Well, he had a wife he might have asked to sleep beside him, but when she fell in love with a pretty minstrel in his court, he didn’t have the heart to keep her trapped in a marriage for politics’ sake. He divorced her the second she hinted her desire to be free.
He likes to think she would have done the same for him, if things had been different.
In any case, without her around, and with everyone in the castle insisting that a father could not sleep on the floor of his young daughter’s room every night, he had no choice but to become accustomed to sleeping by himself, even before he was called to Askr and given private chambers he never asked for.
“But…” he continues. “I would rather… stay… close to you…”
Grima laughs.
“Good, good!” he guffaws. “You have no other choice, after all. A corpse lying around on his own would only attract carrion-eaters!”
Oh, gods. That thought hadn’t even crossed Chrom’s mind. He shudders. Though he can certainly feel the differences between his new body and his old one, he doesn’t actually feel dead. He feels like himself.
But his body is not just himself. If Grima were to ever withdraw the power that Chrom so loves to have flowing through him, Chrom would simply crumble to dust.
Ha. That’s about what he’s worth when he’s all on his own, anyway.
“One shelter… it is…” Chrom says, averting his gaze from Grima’s mirthful expression. “I won’t take long…”
There’s not much life around, but there’s plenty of death—he’s able to get everything he needs to build a simple lean-to from dead trees and other debris. It’s crude, but between it and the fire, it will keep him and Grima warm for a while.
“Hmm… Very good, Chrom,” Grima says, appraising the final product. “Sturdy enough for our purposes, so long as you keep your kicking to a minimum. Ha, I jest, of course. You’ll sleep like the dead…”
His smirk fades, and he turns back towards the fire. He sighs, but says nothing more.
“Will you not… go in?” Chrom asks.
“What, are you afraid I’ll walk off and leave you to decay if you fall asleep first?” Grima sneers. “I wouldn’t bother with such a sorry trick. If I intended to abandon you, I could simply warp away any time, you know.”
So he could. That was never Chrom’s worry.
“I… don’t want you to be up… with no company…” he explains. “If you can’t sleep yet… I’ll sit with you… until you can…”
“No need,” Grima says coolly.
Without further comment, he crawls beneath the shelter, rolling to one side to get out of Chrom’s way.
“If you’re satisfied, then get in,” he mutters.
Chrom follows him without hesitation. There’s not a lot of space, but that’s all the better for keeping warm. Grima’s body radiates incredible warmth… or at least, it feels incredible to Chrom and his freezing limbs.
Gods, it’s been so long since he’s been so close to Robin… Touched him… Breathed his scent…
“… Er… Mmph…”
Maybe he should have made the shelter a little bit roomier. Strands of Grima’s hair push their way into his mouth.
“Sorry…” he says. “… I…”
He tries to shift back and put at least a little space between them. Grima, however, stops him. Placing a hand behind Chrom, he pushes him back into place, though thankfully he tilts his head away to prevent Chrom’s imminent suffocation.
“A-Ah…”
Grima doesn’t know what he’s doing to him. The Fell Exalt told him that Grima was unkind, so Chrom didn’t expect to feel his embrace… Sure, he’s been hoping that after explaining himself, Grima might treat him as a friend, but he never imagined Grima would pull him so close that their chests touch. It’s just a sleeping arrangement, but still…
Grima casually curls his fingers into Chrom’s shirt, ensuring he’ll stay put, and something inside Chrom breaks. He hasn’t shed a tear in years, but now the floodgates are open. Everything comes spilling out of him—he supposes these emotions were never made to fit inside this body in the first place.
“… Grima…” he chokes out through sobs. He has missed his other half so, so much.
Grima chuckles darkly, his breath tickling Chrom’s neck.
“Is this your worst nightmare, Chrom?” he whispers. “Trapped all alone with the fell dragon… Completely at his mercy…”
“A… nightmare…? No…” Chrom closes his eyes, but it does nothing to stop his tears. “I… I’m glad…”
This is a dream come true. Thank Naga… Thank Askr… Thank Grima.
This is the happiest he’s been in a long time.
“What a fool you are…” Grima breathes. “These tears are truly not of sorrow… How wasteful. You should save them for when you experience true despair.”
His hand leaves Chrom’s back and trails upward, finding Chrom’s head… and then seizing his hair.
“Let this be a warning to you… You cannot ever escape from the fell dragon’s grip,” he hisses, tugging on the blue strands in his clutches. “If you dare to feel happiness now, you will only feel pain later. It is better that you crush whatever hopes you have brought with you from another world.”
Chrom lets out a weak laugh, though it sounds more like a cough.
“Can’t… do that…” he says.
Why would he? Though he feels sorrow for those lost in this world, his reason for coming—Grima—yet remains. In the fell dragon’s grip is exactly where Chrom wants to be.
“Hmph…” Grima releases Chrom’s hair. “Do as you will, then. Fate won’t change.”
“As you say… Master Grima…”
It wouldn’t be right to argue too much with his master, no matter how firmly Chrom disagrees. As far as he’s concerned, fate already has changed. “Fate” would have had him and Grima at odds… but now he knows better than to believe that’s inevitable. He won’t be fooled into fighting his friend again.
Grima merely sighs in response. Chrom expects him to withdraw his hand, but instead, he gives Chrom’s head a couple of gentle pats—an absentminded gesture that draws yet more tears from Chrom’s eyes.
If Chrom’s body could blush, he’d probably be bright red at his own shamelessness. Instead, the only heat he feels is Grima’s, constant and comforting. He breathes deeply, trying to calm himself as best he can, and eventually, his tears dry up as he drifts off to sleep.
He sleeps dreamlessly, and when he comes to awareness again, he feels as though no time has passed at all. The sky is perhaps a little lighter, but the thick haze remains, blocking any hope of seeing the sun. The stream’s current tugs at his bare feet, and—
Wait, what? Stream? Bare feet?
Chrom snaps to full consciousness at once. Now that he’s fully awake, he realizes with horror that he is far from the shelter he made the previous night. He has no idea where he is, and he can’t see Grima anywhere.
Worst of all, despite him coming to his senses, his body is still moving all on its own. His back bends, and his hands plunge themselves into the water. He tries to stop himself, but his muscles won’t cooperate.
He apparently has control over his mouth, however… He opens it wide and screams, his breath rushing out of him in a roar.
An instant later, he hears a splash behind him.
“What, Chrom?”
Chrom can’t turn around, but he doesn’t need to see Grima’s face to know he must be scowling.
“Sorry….” he groans. “But… my legs… my whole body… moved by itself… I-I… I don’t know what’s happening…”
Grima lets out a long, loud sigh.
“All this commotion over that? And here I thought some human might have survived and attacked you. What a shame…”
“Er… No… No attack…” Chrom assures him. “But… My body is still… Rrgh…”
“Calm down,” Grima commands as he circles around to Chrom’s front side. “Your body isn’t moving by itself. I’m controlling it, obviously.”
“Y-You…?”
“I had no choice,” Grima says. “You refused to wake up. Instead of making a huge scene about it, I simply moved you myself. Then I had to keep controlling you, for I had no way of knowing when you would come to consciousness again… Or if you ever would.”
“If… I ever would…?” Chrom echoes. “Oh… No… Then, I… Did I seem…?”
“Completely lifeless? Oh, yes.” Grima smirks. “I thought that your spirit might have been destroyed by the weight of this world’s despair, but unfortunately, it seems there is to be no escape for you after all.”
“Escape…? No… I can’t…” Chrom says. “I need to stay… with you…”
“Hmm…” Grima’s eyes narrow. “Of course. You are my servant, aren’t you? And when you put it that way, it’s a disgrace I’m doing all this work for you…”
He snaps his fingers, and suddenly, Chrom stumbles forward, unbalanced. He catches himself, however, because he can once again move on his own.
Grima chuckles.
“Bathe on your own,” he orders. “Find me when you’re done. And if you happen to come across any fish, bring them along and I might fry them with some thunder magic. I think a few of those creatures yet swim for their lives, anyway. Who can truly say for sure, with all the death around here?”
“… Er…”
Grima starts walking away before Chrom can give anything he said a proper response. The dramatic impression of him disappearing into the smoky horizon is somewhat diminished by the sloshing of his boots in the stream—a sound which continues on for longer than Grima probably intended—but Chrom understands the statement all the same. There’s no time for crying in his master’s arms now.
Chrom sighs. Truth be told, in contrast to everything he was told to expect, Grima is being remarkably kind. Perhaps Grima is simply in a good mood now that he’s achieved victory over humanity… but that doesn’t really match with his behavior. No, if anything, Grima seems troubled.
Maybe it’s just because Chrom knows what the fell dragon looks like desperate and enraged. Maybe it’s just because he’s stared down another Grima who couldn’t see him anymore, one who demanded his destruction as nothing more than some “wretched son of Naga.” But to him, this world’s Grima doesn’t seem half as cold and cruel as he could be.
Chrom is glad that his friend isn’t so out of reach. But that also makes him worry. The whole world is a gods-damned wasteland. There is no question that Grima is not feeling alright.
Chrom tries to return to his master in good spirits, if only for the sake of easing Grima’s mind, but it’s hard not to frown at his meager catch—the tiny fish are a light meal for one, let alone two.
Grima merely shrugs dismissively.
“That’s your problem, Chrom,” he says. “I care nothing for mortal sustenance. What good is a god who can’t sustain his form through his own power?”
“Oh…”
So Chrom is the only one who needs to eat. Unless… perhaps he doesn’t. Perhaps he, too, can be sustained entirely through Grima’s power…
If that’s the case, Grima didn’t need to order him to catch the fish… Yet he cooks them for Chrom anyway, and the crispy morsels aren’t half-bad. Grima doesn’t say anything when Chrom sits on a fallen log to take his meal, but Chrom can see him watching him from the corner of his eye.
“… Sure you don’t want any…?” Chrom holds up his final piece.
If the only purpose of eating is pleasure, he ought to share some of it with Grima.
Grima frowns.
“Is it that awful?” he asks wryly.
Chrom shakes his head.
“…See for yourself…”
“Hmph…” Grima comes closer, hesitating for a moment before plucking up Chrom’s offering. “There’s a taste of my magic… The taste of despair…”
He sighs.
“Don’t expect to get anything better,” he mutters. “If you wanted fine dining, you should have stayed out of this world.”
“Fine… dining…?” Chrom lets out a chuckle. “Never cared much for that…”
“No, I suppose not…” Grima agrees. “But though you may prefer simple things, even you can’t tell me you enjoy the current conditions of this world. What in the seven hells made you believe there is anything here worth doing?”
Chrom frowns. He thought he already explained himself when he arrived. Does Grima not believe his Risen would come back to serve him? The Fell Exalt told Chrom that Grima sent him to Askr to spread despair in a new world… but shouldn’t it have been obvious to Grima that the Fell Exalt would never want to do that? Without Grima controlling his body—an admittedly unnerving experience, Chrom can say now that he’s felt it for himself—he would have no reason of his own to stay in a world where his mere appearance disrupts the peace and fills his allies with sorrow.
Wouldn’t returning to Grima be the logical thing to do?
“…I…” Chrom isn’t sure what to say. He isn’t the Fell Exalt, after all, and his reasons are perhaps not as logical. The heart often isn’t—but still, he’s resolved to follow it. Emmeryn stopped a whole war in its tracks by reaching out to the very people gathered for her execution, because she knew they weren’t truly her enemies. “I have to be here…”
This is something he has to do. It’s something only he can do. He can’t expect those who have been destroyed by the fell dragon to sympathize with him. Few understand the kind of burning, irrational rage that tells you everyone who isn’t with you is against you. Few understand the drive to punish others for nothing but the perceived crime of being in your way.
But Chrom does. And if he had been alone, he knows he would have never found a way out of that darkness. Yet, when he was at his worst, Robin promised to stay with him through anything, no matter how far Chrom dragged him down…
So it doesn’t matter if Grima has fallen as far as he can go and set fire to everything left behind. Chrom will make a home out of hell if that is the only place his friend can be found.
“I can’t let you live here alone…” he says as Grima’s gaze bores into him.
“I see,” Grima says. “Heh… But what does it matter? Nothing can change the fate of this world. I have no reason to stop you. I’m not one to expend unnecessary effort—that’s called efficiency.”
Chrom snorts.
“Efficiency…”
“That’s right,” Grima says. “Something not everyone understands…”
He sighs heavily.
“If you’re finished, let us be on our way already,” he says. “On the other side of efficiency, there is showmanship. If there is to be any entertainment in a world governed by callous destiny, it must be self-made, yes?”
“...Hmm…?” Chrom stands, pressing close to Grima’s side.
“I know it makes no difference to the ultimate outcome… but the Dragon’s Table is a place of great significance for me,” Grima elaborates. “That is why I would have us go there. I was thinking of it even before you arrived.”
“Wherever you want to go…” Chrom says, “I’ll go…”
He’ll follow Grima anywhere, even if he doesn’t understand Grima’s motive—and he definitely doesn’t. If there really are no more humans in the world, then there’s no one left for the fell dragon to feed from at the Dragon’s Table. If it is significant to Grima as more than just a major altar, Chrom doesn’t know in what way…
The truth is, he doesn’t know that much about Grima at all. He knows Robin, of course, but seeing as his tactician was significantly less hell-bent on destruction, it’s no wonder Grima’s reasoning still escapes him. The Grima he fought back in his own world certainly never slowed down to divulge his innermost feelings.
Maybe this is Chrom’s chance to finally hear them.
“Will you tell me about the Dragon’s Table…?” he asks. “About what happened there… a thousand years ago…”
“A thousand years ago? You wish to hear that tale?” Grima frowns. “I’m certain every rudimentary text of Ylissean history covers it…”
“Yes… But they say whatever the authors think…” Having read some questionable accounts of his own supposed feats, Chrom is well aware that history can get everything wrong, from simple errors in calculation all the way up to confident declarations that Chrom is the brave and heroic man responsible for putting an end to the fell dragon. “I want to know… what you think…”
“You assume I disagree with history?” Grima chuckles. “But your scholars put it so succinctly. A thousand years ago I tried to put an end to humanity. Your ancestor halted my destruction, but Naga’s power could not seal me forever. I was revived and finally saw my vengeance through. Are you not satisfied? The villain wins and the story ends, a perfect tragedy for mankind. You cannot change what has already been written. So… So it’s pointless to go digging through the past again.”
“I’m sorry… I only thought… to make sense of the truth…” Chrom sighs. “But… if there are secrets you can’t tell me…”
“A-Are you suggesting I have something to hide?” Grima asks indignantly. “I’ll tell you the truth! But don’t come complaining to me when you realize that your life—that the lives of all who came before you—never meant anything. The fate of this world was decided a long time ago. The events of a thousand years ago were nothing. The events of two thousand years ago—everything your Hero King Marth did—were nothing. Even the struggles of the Jugdrali were, that’s right, nothing. Because my existence precedes them all, and thus, all hope was lost before humanity even knew what it had done.”
“That sounds… like a lot…” Chrom says. “But… I’d like to know about it… About you…”
“Hmph. Of course you would.” Grima sighs. “How fortunate you are that it is a long, long walk to the Dragon’s Table.”
He places a hand on Chrom’s shoulder—the only place his armor doesn’t cover, ever-displaying Naga’s Brand—and for a moment, his touch is nothing more than a gentle caress… But then, though his hands are gloved, his fingers suddenly transform into hooked claws, and Chrom winces as Grima digs into his skin.
“Come along,” Grima commands.
Chrom doesn’t see why he needs to be dragged after his master when Grima can command his Risen body any time he likes, anyway… But he figures it’s best not to remind Grima of that.
“I never thought I’d be explaining this…” Grima mutters. “Normally, people are a bit too busy screaming and running for their lives to concern themselves with insignificant details. The future is built upon the past but… if there’s no hope of you living to see it, no need to waste your final moments wondering why your enemy wants you dead. This story is of no interest to anyone but me.”
Chrom hums. It’s odd to him that Grima should be reluctant. Nothing can be worse than the death of an entire world. Does Grima seriously think there’s anything he can possibly say to make that reality any bleaker?
It’s as though he’s waiting for Chrom to tell him he doesn’t really want to hear him speak after all.
“If it means something to you… then it’s worth telling…” Chrom assures his friend. “Master Grima, I am interested in what you have to tell…”
Grima sighs.
“I suppose it was inevitable that it would come to this,” Grima says. “Someone must stand witness to all that fate has written, else there was no purpose to the plot. Yes… Very well. For you to understand, I’ll have to unravel this narrative in reverse…”
And so he recounts the first-hand account of the fell dragon, Grima—a god awakened in a war-torn world by worshipers praying for annihilation. His ire shaped the very formation of every country on the Ylissean and Valmese continents. It was the clash of his wrath and human greed that plunged the world into violence in the time of the first exalt. Humans sought to weaponize him from the moment they discovered his power. His power lies in his blood—the blood of divine dragons, the most powerful of all the tribes. But he has never belonged to any tribe himself. Naga has never been his ruler. On the contrary, his existence defies her sovereignty. There once was a city called Thabes. It was destroyed by Duma, brought down by the hubris of its human citizenry who thought themselves so prosperous that they did not need their divine protectors anymore. At the beginning of this age of decadence there was an alchemist named Forneus. He was punished for his crimes by being sealed away with his entire workshop, ironically ensuring that it would be the only part of Thabes not to crumble to nothingness. Forneus thought to defy life and death, creating two “miracles” of nature—or perversions of it, if you share Grima’s mind. First, he created the precursors to all Risen… and then he created Grima. Combining his own blood with that stolen from the divine dragons, he made a monstrosity more powerful than either species. Baleful and violent from the start, it was the ultimate retribution for humanity’s sins. From that moment on, the world’s fate was inevitable—its downfall brewed in a single tiny vial.
“Er… Wow…” There are truly no words that can adequately dignify Grima’s history. It has taken him weeks to get through it all, and there’s nothing Chrom can say in a sentence that wouldn’t seem utterly pathetic in the shadow of Grima’s life. “You’re… incredible… No one can deny that…”
Grima chuckles, but his nonchalance is merely a show. His eyes are deadly serious.
“You almost sound like you’re proud of me,” he sneers. “Don’t tell me you got attached to the protagonist I described. Try to remember that his triumph is your tragedy.”
“…I can admire your strength…” Chrom says. “While still mourning what you’ve done with it…”
“I’m sure you think you could have done everything better if only you’d had my power instead.” Grima grits his teeth. “Everyone does, but—”
“…No…” Chrom interrupts. “If what I cared about was power… There’s plenty in this twisted form…”
He looks down at his hand. The Brand there glows bright.
“What I truly mourn is… the loss of your trust…”
Grima’s breath hitches.
“Chrom…” he murmurs.
He grimaces.
“There’s no need to grieve,” he says firmly. “I’ve never trusted your kind. There was nothing to lose.”
“I know… that… isn’t true…”
“You’re thinking of someone else.” Grima shakes his head. “The me that shared a bond with the Shepherds ceased to exist the moment the fell dragon, Grima, was awakened. The dragon’s grip is simply too strong.”
“…I see…” Chrom says. “Perhaps… It couldn’t be helped…”
Grima isn’t the Robin that Chrom—or his Fell Exalt counterpart—knew; that’s true. No one could stay the same after becoming a god. The time he spent as the Shepherds’ tactician, when measured against the rest of his life, is so miniscule…
“That’s right,” Grima says. “There’s nothing anyone could have done to stop the fell dragon’s ascent. Swallow your sorrow, Chrom. Everything is as fate intended.”
Grima’s calm, confident words leave no room for disagreement. He doesn’t seem to realize that they belie everything he wants Chrom to believe.
If the Robin who cared for Chrom didn’t exist somewhere in Grima’s heart, he would have no reason to bother remembering Chrom’s name out of all the humans he’s killed.
“You’ve lived long… and done much…” Chrom sighs. “I won’t pretend to understand…I mean, you… You really remember all the way back… to being thumbnail-sized… in a vial…?”
Grima’s eyes widen slightly.
“E-Er, well…” He shrugs his shoulders back. “That part… isn’t entirely first-hand. That would be the equivalent of a human remembering their time in the womb, you see. However, my creator was far more thorough in his documentation of developing life than any human parents would be. He left notes. It took me some effort to comprehend his script, but it wasn’t as though I ever wanted for free time while sealed away in his workshop. Thus… I memorized every word. I wouldn’t have them wrong, even after all these years.”
“Oh… Sorry, I thought…”
Chrom frowns deeply, which seems to give Grima offense.
“What?” Grima demands. “I’ve told you what I know! Is that not good enough?”
“It’s… not that…” Chrom says. “Only, I didn’t realize… what you told me wasn’t what you thought at the time… but what someone else thought about you…”
“No, no, it was clear what my thoughts were at the time,” Grima says. “Dark. Violent. Weren’t you listening—”
“I don’t doubt you…” Chrom interrupts. “But… I know nothing of Forneus… or why I should listen to him… When you think about it… how can an infant be violent…? Isn’t it a parent’s job to teach their child… how to interact with others…?”
“Well, obviously whatever he did didn’t work on me,” Grima hisses. “He wouldn’t have tried to kill me if I’d been playing well with others, now would he!”
“…Kill… you…?”
Chrom scowls. He can’t stand the thought of Grima dying—not anymore.
“You… left that part out…” he mutters.
“Did I?” Grima waves his hand dismissively. “I must have gotten sidetracked and failed to go back. Yes, my creator tried to destroy me… but he could not. It was I who slaughtered him instead—a fitting consequence for his crimes. That was… my first kill. Do you understand? Even back then, my fate was…”
“I…” Chrom sighs. “Trust him even less now… Forneus, I mean…”
“Why?” Grima asks. “If you don’t believe him, there’s no one else to believe.”
“He… wanted to kill you…” Chrom says. “Was that… because of the things he wrote about you…? Or… Did he write those things down… to justify wanting to kill you…?”
“Hmph…”
Grima’s lips twist sourly.
“Stop thinking so much, Chrom. That kind of questioning will only bring you despair,” he says. “If he was wrong about me… that was all fate, too. The same fate that has led us to where we are now.”
“But…”
“Quiet now,” Grima orders. “Look around. Do you recognize this place?”
Chrom does as he’s told, taking in the hazy desert air and the barely-visible mountains in the distance. Another mountain looms a little closer, its silhouette made unusual by the temple situated at its peak.
“The Table Approach…” he breathes.
He and Grima have been traveling the whole time they’ve been talking, but somehow it seems strange that they have actually arrived at their destination. In this ruined world, time comes more as an afterthought than anything—if they were to walk forever, Chrom wouldn’t even think to question it. Yet here they are.
“…Now what…?” he asks.
Grima chuckles.
“Indeed…” he murmurs, closing his eyes. “Hm… It seems some residual power yet lingers here… I think I shall have my last meal.”
Chrom opens his mouth, but before he can speak, a great rumbling sound comes from the sky. There is a flash of light, but this commotion is no storm. The fell dragon’s head dips beneath the heavy clouds, and Chrom can only stand there gaping at it.
The last time he saw this dragon emerge at the Dragon’s Table, his only concern was protecting his daughter from the future. Funnily enough, he asked the same question then—”Now what?”
Lucina’s answer was chilling. “Grima… It’s all over.” She believed she had failed in her mission to save Ylisse.
But she hadn’t. It was as much her doing as it was Robin’s that Chrom’s old world was saved. Even her confronting Robin—threatening to kill him, misguided as it was—was what led to him realizing that his nightmares of killing Chrom were reality in another world, and that is what empowered him to avert that fate. That Chrom survived that day is only thanks to the bonds he shared with both of them.
It’s up to him now to pass that gift along. He has a bond with Grima—and it’s more than the echo of what once existed between Chrom and Robin. He knows Grima’s past now… It was his decision to listen, and Grima’s to speak, and now those choices—those invisible ties that they created together—bind them.
Ties like that mean more than anything “fate” can write. Robin and Lucina already proved that, and now, it’s time for Chrom to prove it, too.
“…Master Grima—” he says, but as he turns his gaze from the fell dragon, he sees that his master has already warped away from him.
He sighs heavily, raising his head back up to shoot Grima’s dragon form an incredulous look. He has no skill in white magic whatsoever, so his only choice is to trudge his way to the Table’s interior by foot.
At least there aren’t any deadlords to deal with this time.
And yet even without any fighting to worry about, Chrom finds himself growing uneasy as he approaches the great altar to the fell dragon. Grima was being sardonic in saying he wanted a last meal, no doubt, but… nevertheless, Chrom doesn’t like the sound of it. For all that he and Grima have discussed the past as of late, he still knows nothing of Grima’s plans for the future.
The options are practically infinite, given that Grima can travel through space and time all on his own, without the need to rely on assistance from Naga or Askr. Grima can simply go anywhere he pleases. That could pose problems for the safety of other worlds, but… surely Grima wouldn’t be shy about promising more destruction if his intent were to continue his vengeance somewhere new. On the contrary, Grima seems to think that the fell dragon’s story is over.
A last meal for the dragon is the perfect conclusion, then. Or at least, it would be if Grima were inside of a book. In the real world, his life isn’t over…
Chrom pushes himself to move faster.
When he finally enters the Dragon’s Table, he immediately spots Grima kneeling before the altar. His head is bowed as if in prayer, but Chrom doubts that’s what he’s actually doing. No god has ever done anything to earn his devotion.
Chrom walks forward, his footsteps echoing throughout the room. Grima never looks up. Even when Chrom reaches Grima’s back and stops, he is met only with an expectant silence that carries on for too long.
Eventually, Grima breaks it with a sigh.
“Chrom. Must you hesitate?” Grima tilts his head back, opening his eyes to stare at Chrom. “I’m growing tired of this game…”
Chrom frowns.
“…What… game…?”
“You won’t admit it?” Grima’s expression twists into a sneer. “Are you so afraid of me? Or…”
He rises, laughing as he gets to his feet.
“Of course… If you won’t make your strike now, then it must be a fight you’re looking for, yes?”
“W-What…?” Chrom takes a step back. “Master Grima…”
“Please. Give it up already. You’re terrible at this.” Grima presses a hand to his forehead. “It seems I have no choice but to raise the stakes…”
“What… are you—”
Chrom’s words are cut off with a choked gasp as his knees suddenly give out from under him. He tries to catch himself, but his body won’t move… Not by his command, anyway. Now he’s the one on the floor as Grima stands tall. His arms shake as he tests Grima’s control, but his resistance isn’t doing anything but giving him a headache. This is how Grima has decided things should be.
Still, Chrom shows no fear as he meets Grima’s eyes. He isn’t afraid of anything Grima can do to him.
“Such an arrogant expression from one so powerless…” Grima’s lips curl. “Don’t tell me you actually believe you have the upper hand… Yes, I’ve revealed to you everything there is to know about the fell dragon, while you dare to keep your true motives concealed… And yet, your secrecy means nothing… I have known from the start that you are not my Risen.”
Chrom’s eyes widen.
“You…!”
His heart does not pound like a normal human’s would, but he can feel Grima’s power within him pulse erratically, stirring his blood in its own way. He was supposed to keep his identity a secret, at least until he could convince Grima to truly trust him… But apparently, he hadn’t fooled his friend for even a minute. Is he really so bad of an actor?
Grima chuckles.
“Honestly, I thought you knew I was only playing along with you… At least, I didn’t expect you to be this surprised.” Grima shakes his head. “Did you truly think I wouldn’t find it strange when the corpse I cursed into submission started calling me ‘Master Grima’ and clinging to me?”
Chrom blinks. Were Grima and the Fell Exalt not close? Chrom knew that the Fell Exalt had given up all hope of finding Robin within Grima, and that he had started to believe Grima that nothing would ever change for the two of them… But even so, it was obvious that the Fell Exalt still cared. Just as Chrom had to find someone to take care of the people he left behind in his own world, he is certain that the Fell Exalt wouldn’t have abandoned Grima forever if Chrom hadn’t been there begging to take his place.
“Come now, Chrom… I think it’s your turn to tell me your secrets,” Grima says, smiling grimly. “Take your time. I can keep you here forever until you decide to talk…”
Chrom shudders. The truth is, that wouldn’t be so bad. If he and Grima just stayed locked like this forever, there would be no more room for mistakes.
But no. This isn’t what he came here for.
“I’m… sorry…” he rasps. “I… didn’t want you to turn me away… I thought…”
“Oh, I know what you thought!” Grima snaps.
Letting out a short growl, he clenches his fists.
“I should have known my Risen would not be able to infiltrate a world like that,” he mutters. “Without access to my power, it was inevitable that he should have been overwhelmed. Never mind that he was called there personally… Ah, how easily humans discard their tools…”
“But… he wasn’t discarded…” Chrom protests.
“No, no, you had a greater purpose for him, didn’t you?” Grima sneers. “Of course you did. It was like dangling fresh meat in front of a dog. My blood in his veins and my body in his weapon… Any servant of Naga would be a fool not to seize the only instruments that have any chance of destroying me!”
“Naga… has nothing to do with this…” Chrom says.
Whatever bad blood exists between her and Grima doesn’t extend to him. She may be a god, but that doesn’t make her all-powerful; she admits that herself. All she can do is share her power with humanity—how it’s used comes down to human choice. In Chrom’s old world, it became irrelevant the moment Robin decided to use his own power to defeat Grima instead. In this world, Chrom’s body has never even known the blessing of the Awakening ritual. Naga has had no influence on his decisions here whatsoever.
Grima scoffs.
“Like it or not, you were born with her blood and her Brand,” he says. “I am not surprised that this is how it ends. You and I, alone at the Dragon’s Table…”
He smiles bitterly.
“Here is where I murdered your other self, and destroyed the Robin he called his partner…” Grima laughs, but it lacks its usual harshness. “So it’s only right that this is where the fell dragon also ceases to be.”
“…No…” Chrom’s face falls and, still frozen on the floor, he cannot hide his agony in his hands. This is the exact outcome he never wanted to consider—that Grima would not speak of any plans for the future because he was planning not to have one.
Chrom grits his teeth. This shouldn’t be happening. What is wrong with him, that all he ever does is push his dearest friend towards death?
“Are you crying tears of joy again?” Grima asks, grinning wildly. “You should be delighted, Chrom! You can return home and tell everyone the complete saga of the fell dragon, Grima!”
“I will not… do anything of the sort…” Chrom growls. “This is not... where your life ends… You come up with interesting ideas… You make up stories that sound like they could be true… that no one has enough information to challenge… But this time… This time, you’re completely wrong…!”
Grima’s smile falls, irritation flashing in his eyes.
“Do you think you know my life better than me?”
“No…” Chrom says. “But… you don’t know mine…!”
“Ha! And what does that have to do with my fate?” Grima demands. “You do not belong here. You are not my Chrom…”
“No… I’m not…” Chrom sighs. “I did steal him from you… That’s true… But you have the wrong idea… I didn’t overpower his soul, or suppress his consciousness with my own…”
That’s what the Grima from Lucina’s world tried to do to Robin. It’s no wonder the Grima in front of him would imagine Chrom doing the same thing, considering he actually thinks Chrom is here under some duty to kill him. The Fell Exalt would never willingly aid a plan like that.
“He’s in another world now… The world I… I used to call home…” Chrom explains. “It was a simple body-switching spell… but we used it to switch our whole lives…”
“His… His soul is in…” Grima frowns in confusion. “Another body? Another world?”
“Yes…” Chrom says. “I’m sorry… He was skeptical at first… But I convinced him… Because I wanted this for so long… My Robin sacrificed his own life… to destroy him and his future self both… and I wanted another chance… I wanted you to live… I wanted you… to believe in me…”
“Another world…” Grima repeats, still uncomprehending. “Where the fell dragon no longer exists…”
“When I met your Chrom… I… envied him…” Chrom admits. “You kept him at your side… I thought… if there was any world where you would listen to me… surely it would be this one… After all, you had enough trust in your Risen… to send him to Askr…”
“You’re seriously telling me that he’s alive?” Grima asks. “Truly alive… in your body? No… It can’t be… His fate was death by my hands. There’s no way he could escape destiny. I only sent him to Askr because I knew there was no hope for him. Nothing left to kill here… No life to live… The only thing he could possibly do was spread despair in a different world. But now… Somehow, he managed to…”
“It’s… because of you…” Chrom says. “Do you understand…? You can say his Robin was destroyed with your awakening… But though you’ve changed… that person still exists within you…”
“But… that person failed…” Grima grimaces. “Everything he fought for meant nothing, in the end.”
“How can you think that…?” Chrom asks. “You said it yourself… The future is built upon the past… If you hadn’t been a Shepherd… if you hadn’t fought beside my other self… Would you have taken his soul back from death…? Given him your blood…? Seen him through the end of this world…? Protected him until he could reach another…? No… And then… I could not be here… Promising you my loyalty… Asking you to stay alive…”
“Chrom…” Grima trembles.
“Don’t you see…? ‘That person’ changed everything…” Chrom says. “You… changed everything…”
Grima sinks to the floor, clutching his temples. Suddenly, Chrom can move again, Grima’s control over him lost, and he scrambles at once to his friend’s side.
“How can this be so?” Grima murmurs. Chrom places a hand on his shoulder, and he doesn’t shake it off. “I didn’t— I wasn’t trying to— All I care about is destroying this world and bringing humans despair. I never so much as imagined that my Risen could do something like… like this…”
“You had lost hope…” Chrom says. “Both of you… And yet, deep down… some part of you refused to give up completely…”
“Hoping against hope…” Grima shakes his head. “How pointless.”
He chuckles weakly.
“But let’s say you’re right.” Grima’s lips curl cynically. “What good is it now? I accidentally saved one person—so what? One person’s life means nothing in the shadow of millions.”
“You’re… wrong…”
Chrom’s grip on Grima’s shoulder tightens. Once, Chrom would have said the same thing… but it was just an excuse. Something to keep the war palatable. An affirmation to help him sleep at night.
The truth is, you’ll never find peace if you’re only looking for enemies. Emmeryn knew that all along. It’s up to Chrom to honor her courage through his own deeds.
“Everyone matters…” he says. “One person… one act… has the power to change the world… That’s why… I won’t give up, either…”
“Chrom…”
Grima turns his head towards Chrom. He sighs, and their faces are so close that Chrom can feel the warmth of his breath.
“It’s hard to argue with you when you’ve just pulled off the most ridiculous gambit I’ve ever heard of…” Grima admits. “To think you would willingly become a Risen, and my servant… It’s unbelievable…”
“...Is it really that strange…?” Chrom asks.
“Do you hear yourself? Of course it is,” Grima says. “No one in their right mind would do what you’ve done. Maybe if it was a temporary measure taken to kill me, I might call it a clever tactic, but you, Chrom, never even contemplated such an idea…”
Grima exhales, and his expression softens.
“I’m not saying I don’t understand…” He raises his hand to Chrom’s cheek, caressing it gently. “How desperate you must have been. What was my other self thinking, leaving such a lonely being to face the ungrateful masses by himself?”
Chrom closes his eyes. Thinking of Robin’s death never gets easier, but Grima’s touch makes him feel a little stronger than usual.
“He was selfless…” Chrom says. “But… he didn’t need to be… We already proved that fate could change… so we shouldn’t have assumed we knew what would happen in a thousand years… Anything could have changed in that time… He didn’t have to die…!”
“I take it your world was vastly different from mine…” Grima sighs heavily. “You make it sound like he was a hero. Ironic that he should be the one to drive you to despair, while I, the villain… can’t bear to leave you this way…”
Chrom’s breath hitches as Grima slowly wraps his arms around him.
“You really are my other half, aren’t you?” Grima breathes. “Doing something so ill-conceived just to be with me… How could I ever dismiss you? I can’t betray your devotion to me… That can’t be how the story ends. That can’t be the fell dragon’s final act.”
“Grima…” Chrom murmurs. “What if there never is a final act…?”
“What do you mean?” Grima asks.
“Even if we both perished along with this world…” Chrom says. “In Askr… some heroes are called from beyond death…”
“So you’re saying that my power of destruction is not a universal end.”
“Even when brought to ruin… people keep persisting,” Chrom says. “Humans… Dragons… Everyone… Perhaps that’s why there is always conflict…”
“You think it’s inevitable, then.” Grima grimaces. “All beings will know despair without end.”
“No…” Chrom says. “As long as there is no end… then there is always hope… Someone will rise up to bring light to the dark… and even if it goes out… someone else will reignite it…”
“And someone will extinguish it again,” Grima says. “Someone such as I…”
“…That may be true…” Chrom admits. “There may be darkness again… More hardship and suffering…”
“Yet you still want to live at my side?” Grima asks. “After all I’ve done, from the moment of my creation? Even if I try not to, I’ll just keep plunging you into despair the moment you think yourself free of it.”
“I don’t believe that…” Chrom says. “Right now, you aren’t the person you want to be… To be honest, neither am I… But together, we can become greater than our mistakes…”
“And if we don’t?” Grima challenges.
“…Then we’ll keep trying until we figure something out…” Chrom says. “It’s alright if things aren’t perfect… For me… being with you is more important than being human… Despite the drawbacks… I am glad to be a Risen today… So, even if nothing can surpass the strength of the fell dragon’s grip… I know that someday you will find something that makes you glad to be alive, too…”
“Someday…?” Grima murmurs. “Hmph. It’s already too late… Ugh. Too late to deny it, that is…”
He is quiet for a long moment.
“Alright…” he says at last. “Alright… You’ve won.”
And with that, the fight is over. Never again will he and Chrom have to oppose each other.
“In a way… we’ve both won…” Chrom says. And unlike the last time he won a “final battle,” this moment actually feels like a victory. “This means we get to share our lives… and create our future together…”
Chrom smiles. The path forward for a Risen and a fell dragon won’t be easy, he knows. But Chrom doesn’t need every road he travels to run smooth. All he needs is to be beside his other half.