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He should be dead.
It was cruel, so unfair that he drew breath while his friends rotted, staring up at blackened skies with sightless eyes.
Perhaps it wasn’t sorrow. Perhaps it was envy. Chrom was jealous of them. Why couldn’t death have taken him as well?
His eyes were downcast, gazing bitterly at his shackled ankle. It was so… out of place. The dirty grey colour clashed with the deep purple of the duvet that covered the bed he was sitting on. Though it was a much better view than what could be seen out the window. He’d prefer a chained ankle to the death and destruction happening outside.
It was surprisingly warm despite the fact that he was nude from the waist up. It was probably due to the fact that he was in literal hell.
Or maybe it was because he was dying. He hoped he was dying. He had been refusing to eat for days- or was it weeks? Chrom had long since lost count of the days. Starving to death was far better than being a pet, a prisoner. Lean muscle had withered under disuse and malnutrition, bright eyes that had long since faded were framed with dark circles. The Mark of Naga had been seared from his arm long ago. All that was left of it was a blotchy pink mark the size of his fist.
The former prince’s gaze shifted to the door when he picked up on the sound of a lock being undone. What greeted him wasn’t an emotionally dead Grimleal follower with tasteless soup and hard bread. No. It was someone in a set of familiar looking robes and a bowl of what appeared to be pieces of fruit.
Chrom’s gut wrenched painfully at the sight of the fruit while nostalgia filled his heart as the figure approached him. The bowl was offered, at first, but the blue haired prince refused to take it despite the snarling of his shriveled stomach. The figure clicked their tongue and set the bowl aside before lowering their hood.
“Robi-” The name died Chrom’s tongue before it could be completed.
No.
Grima.
“I’m pleased that you’ve remembered my name after all this time.” It wasn’t him. It couldn’t be. He was gone.
The monster that wore his face like a mask tilted its head, a sly smile on that mouth as its brows went up in mock concern. “I heard you haven’t been eating. Is it the soup?”
No response. The prince’s lips were sealed.
“I figured.” Grima shrugged and dipped a finger into the bowl of fruit chunks, stirring them around a bit before removing said finger. “I was told these taste good, I cannot attest to that.” The beast took it’s- his- finger out of the bowl, sucking on it with a bored expression before slowly removing the digit and carelessly wiping it on the tactician’s coat he had cherished.
Chrom’s lips curled at the action, earning him a dark chuckle and a sneering smile. “Oh? Does that anger you, Prince? Perhaps you’d have more energy to be angry if you ate, no?”
A normal person would have wilted under the hateful glare Chrom had given them, but Grima only laughed as a cruel smile settled on its lips. “You humans get so worked up over the smallest things. Without you here it would be so dreadfully boring.”
Grima reached out to touch Chrom’s arm, but the prince recoiled, teeth bared and eyes wild.
No.
The soft laughter that resulted caused another painful pang in the man’s heart. It was so light, so carefree. Nothing like that sounded right coming from Grima’s mouth but it wasn’t even the Fell Dragon’s mouth in the first place, it was his.
“Chrom. It’s just me, have you grown to hate me so much that you loathe my touch?”
Gods. That voice. The pouty tone and the equally pouty lips...
The dark dragon was toying with him. It had dropped the deep, ethereal undertone and now it just sounded like him.
“Chrom? Don’t you love me?” Grima- Robin- whispered, a hand laying to rest on the unfortunate prince’s knee, the playful lilt vanishing from his tone. Chrom choked back a sob, eyes welling; he couldn’t bring himself to move away that time.
“Robin- I- of course-” Words tumbled from the prince’s quivering lips, voice rough from disuse.
“Then why won’t you eat?” Cold fingertips massaged their way up Chrom’s thigh, kneading it with false care.
“I… want to die.” Chrom confessed. He could tell him anything. He was his safety. His sanctuary. He trusted him.
“What a silly thing to say.” A hand stroked Chrom’s matted blue locks, brushing stray strands away from his dull eyes. “You don’t want to die. You wouldn’t jilt, would you?”
Chrom worried his lower lip, refusing to meet Grima’s eyes. He didn’t want to talk to Grima. He wanted to talk to him.
“Of course not- I would never dream of leaving you. But… this pain, everything hurts.” Chrom croaked out, slumping against Robin’s form with a sigh thick with exhaustion.
“I can make the hurt go away. Just say the word, love.” The words were tender, but the tone was bland, just like the horrid soup. He hated it, the way those honeyed words rolled from a poisonous tongue, thick with duplicity. Lies.
Deceiver.
Two-faced.
Grima.
How dare Grima? How dare the Fell Dragon use his face? His voice. His touch.
A tear slipped down the fallen Exalt’s cheek as Chrom jolted away from Grima though the monster encased in flesh simply grasped the prince’s wrist, pulling him close and licking the tear from his cheek.
“Dry your tears, love. For there is no reason to weep,” Fingertips dragged up the length of Chrom’s throat, only stopping to press lightly against his Adam's apple before continuing on their path. “Chrom.” Those cruel, soft fingers cupped a trembling chin, thumb stroking across tightly pressed lips.
Grima had no right.
“Come now, don’t be so stubborn.” A set of eyes crinkled in amusement and two others followed suit shortly, each glowing more maliciously than the next. “Don’t you want a kiss from your beloved?”
No.
Yes.
But not like this.
The former prince kept his lips pressed in a tight line, blue eyes on the brim of tears and yet he still stubbornly suppressed them.
Grima couldn’t help but smile, fingers moving from the prince’s chin to rest on the manacle clasped tightly around Chrom’s left ankle. “Would you be more cooperative with this out of the way?”
Chrom said nothing and only turned his head.
The Fell Dragon’s patience was waning.
Grima clicked its tongue and plucked a grape from the fruit bowl, plopping it into his mouth and giving it a slight chew before grabbing Chrom by the throat, thumbs crushing the stubborn man’s windpipe. Unprepared for the violent action, Chrom opened his mouth to gasp for breath right before Grima crushed their lips together.
The evil god then quickly used the vessel's tongue to force the half chewed grape into the prince’s unwilling mouth as its fingers firmly gripped Chrom’s neck, silently coercing the man to swallow. The former exalt gagged, hands flying to Grima’s wrists to tug and squeeze uselessly. In the end, he capitulated, swallowing the grape as his hands went slack, falling to his sides.
Grima withdrew with a coy smile, releasing Chrom’s throat. “Now that wasn’t so hard.”
Chrom didn’t reply right away since he was too busy having a coughing fit, but when he finished he scowled at the dusty ornate wardrobe sitting off in the corner of the room. Glowing red eyes narrowed at the reaction but instead of responding with violence, Grima decided to change tactics, caressing Chrom’s chest with synthetic gentleness before grabbing ahold of Chrom’s wrists, rubbing them soothingly until the prince’s tightly clenched fists relaxed.
“Chrom, do truly intend to forsake me?” Said prince flinched, hands tightening back into fists as he swallowed. “I thought you cared about me, Chrom. Leaving me behind so selfishly? I’d be so lonely,” Those devilish fingers traced their way back up to his chin, slowly turning the prince’s head so they were face to face “is that what you want? Hm…?”
“No- gods no- I… I just-” Chrom choked on his words like he had done with the grape, tears slipping freely down his cheeks. The Fell Dragon linked fingers with the blue haired man before rubbing a thumb over the back of his boney hand, massaging the sickly looking skin with soft circular motions.
“Shh... it’s alright, Chrom. I know you wouldn’t abandon me like that. ” Grima cooed, using his thumb to brush away the tears streaking down Chrom’s cheeks. The prince could do nothing but whimper like the broken man he was.
“Stay by my side, love. Live on so that we might live together, just as we did before.” Grima purred, sitting on the edge of the bed as it relinquished Chrom’s hand to pat the space beside him. The prince eyed the spot warily as if it were a trap of some sort. Though he eventually caved to his wants, pulling his tired body into position so that he could lay his head on the other’s lap.
It was just Robin after all. Robin would never harm him.
Grima grinned toothily and dragged the bowl of fruit closer to them, plucking a crisp apple chunk from it before offering it to the exhausted man. “Now, are you going to eat or not?”
Chrom stared at the piece of fruit silently, brows furrowed in thought. He could say no and continue his hunger strike or he could eat and be able to stay with Robin.
In the end, it was an easy choice.
At first the prince was hesitant, fingers brushing against the apple chunk instead of taking it, but after another moment or two of hesitation, he took hold of it and slowly slipped it past his chapped lips.
It was sweet, sickeningly so to the prince’s deprived taste buds, but Chrom continued to eat, accepting whatever fruit piece Robin handed off to him. The only sounds in the room were soft munching noises whenever the man ate an apple. Grima pet Chrom’s hair as the man ate, fingers threading through the greasy blue locks in an almost absent-minded fashion. As if it were playing with sand, solely for amusement and nothing else.
Chrom let out a shaky sigh and reached for the next fruit piece. It was an orange slice. The fallen exalt’s hand faltered for a second, but he eventually grabbed the sticky fruit slice, bringing it to his lips and chomping right through the rind as well as the succulent fruit. The bitterness did nothing to deter the prince as he chewed.
Something splashed onto the former exalt’s cheek mid-chew, shocking the man enough to look up at Grima, who had turned away to rub its face. A faint smile settled on Chrom’s lips, tired eyes sliding shut in contentment.
So Robin was in there, somewhere. It was the only comfort he had, the only hope he could cling to. Maybe, if he chose to stay alive, Robin would eventually regain control over his body and they could undo what Grima had done. Maybe they could really live as they once had.
The dark haired man weakly nuzzled Grima’s lap, humbled and docile compared to how he was just hours ago. The tired, defiant look had been replaced with one of sorrowful desperation- he clung to Grima knowing full well it was just Grima masquerading as Robin. If dying meant abandoning [him] then Chrom would renounce death and continue to live his beautiful lie. As long as he could be with Robin.
“I swear... I will not leave you, Robin. I love you. I’ll love you always…” Chrom sobbed variants of ‘I love you’ as he clutched Robin’s robe tightly in his fists, face pressed into the familiar folds.
Three pairs of eyes glowed eerily as a crooked grin settled on deceitful lips.
“I love you too, Chrom.”