Chapter Text
“So here it is… The Outrealm Gate,” Chrom says. “And you’re sure you can navigate it on your own?”
“Yes,” Grima says. “The gate will take heed of my will.”
“Not many people know how to work it,” one of the many merchants called Anna says, crossing her arms. “That’s what makes it such a lucrative deal for me! You’re not planning to go around telling everyone how it works, are you?”
“No. I have no intention of sharing this knowledge with the masses,” Grima says. “Nor do I intend to make such a trip twice. It is simply much easier than forcing a gateway to open through magic.”
“Validar died getting us here,” Anri says. “Speaking of which… How are we going to explain what happened? And how you’re alive?”
“We’ll say that he saved me from the brink of death, and then traded his life to bring me back to consciousness,” Grima says. “And that there was nothing you could have done about it. The man was too far gone.”
“Validar…” Robin murmurs. “His actions have shaped so much of my life, and yet I never met him myself.”
“You’re the fortunate one,” Grima says. “But I fear the consequences of his actions—the consequences of a thousand years of Grimleal plotting—will haunt you endlessly in your search for peace. Plegia was founded on the worship of the fell dragon, on the promotion of ideals that could only lead to ruin. For all I hate everything they do, I realize now that it is all I ever taught them.”
“I understand,” Robin says. “I don’t have the memories of the past that you do. I don’t want them. But that doesn’t mean I won’t take responsibility. It is time we both set a better example. After all, if the two of us can change, anyone can.”
“I’m sorry to see you leave us,” Chrom says. “We could perhaps accomplish even more were we to combine our efforts. But your people need you, as ours need us. And so, instead of a sad farewell, I instead offer you my greatest hope: should our paths ever cross again, may it be in a better world.”
He holds out his hand. Smiling, Anri takes it.
“Take care, Chrom,” he says. “I wish you and all the Shepherds the best.”
He steps back. Next to the Outrealm Gate, Grima is waiting for him.
“Hold onto me,” Grima says.
It’s for the sake of the travel, of course, but Anri isn’t complaining.
The trip is nothing like their previous one. One second, they are walking through the gate, and the next, they are in front of Plegia’s castle. No passing out required.
“Here we are,” Grima says. “Right at the moment we left.”
“Finally,” Anri—or rather, Chrom, for he no longer needs to pretend—smiles as he squeezes the love of his life’s hand. “We’re home.”