~A week earlier~

Pit sighed as he finished sweeping the floor of the temple. After that, he got to work on the windows, dipping a rag into a bucket of water. He sighed again as he dragged it up and down the glass. And then, as he finished that up, he sighed once more as he dumped out the now dirty water.

Meanwhile, Palutena, who had been hearing this on repeat for days now, finally had enough with him and descended her altar.

***

"Please, I'm trying my best, why can't you just explain it to me again?!" Lucina cried.

Her teacher groaned, the wrinkles around her eyes pulling tightly on her eyes. "I've already explained it to you thrice, how do you still not understand?!"

"Why can't you just help me?!" Lucina screamed. She could feel her face get hot as tears pooled in her eyes. It was hard to breathe, she felt like she couldn't control her own body.

"You are the Exalt of Ylisse, do you think anyone will be there to help you? Do you think there will be someone at your side that will explain every single little detail to you?" The teacher yelled, slamming her fist on the desk Lucina sat behind. "Your father treated you like a baby, that's why you're so slow now. Bless his soul, but he was a fool for expecting anything out of you when he treated you like that."

"Don't speak ill of my father!" Lucina screamed. She sat up from her chair, yanking the teacher by her neck and squeezing it tightly. She struggled against Lucina's grip, gasping for air as she felt her lungs burn. Something clicked in Lucina as she watched the teacher struggle, snapping her out of what she was doing. She let go, letting her fall to the floor. The teacher gasped for air, holding her hand up to her neck.

She screamed and screamed, looking at Lucina with eyes filled with horror. "You're a monster! Monster!" She sloppily stood up and trudged away, slamming the door behind her.

Lucina could feel herself hyperventilating as she sat back down on her seat . I did again, she thought, I lost control of myself again! She slammed her head on her table, then raised her fist and began slamming it down on her head as she wept and cried. Damnit, damnit, damnit! Why can't this damn head work normally?! I thought I was getting better, I thought I had grown. She slammed her fist on her head one last time before raising her head. She looked at the sword at her side, the one she had inherited. Falchion. She cried, "I'm sorry, father, I can't make you proud."

With that, she wiped away her tears and stood up, setting her course to the training grounds.

***

Robin watched her from afar as she swung her sword in all sorts of directions. To say she was good at it would've been an understatement. She was truly a master at with the sword, she dealt powerful strikes all while having the agility to dodge incoming attacks. She didn't often leave herself open, and whenever she noticed a fault in her form, she quickly corrected it. Comes from years of being used as a war slave, he supposed.

He was feeling particularly wicked as of late. Perhaps that six-year prophecy was finally getting to his head. What he was most certain of, though, was that he wanted to, let's say make that prophecy come by a little faster.

He walked up to her while she was in the middle of a swing. Thankfully, she stopped herself before Falchion sliced right through his neck. Robin only smiled while she looked at him with pure horror. "What are you doing?!"

"Oh, just checking up on your technique is all," Robin said as he walked in circles around her. Suddenly, Lucina felt her chest get heavy.

"You shouldn't get so close, it's dangerous," she said in a low voice.

"But I'm immortal?"

"You know exactly in which way it's dangerous."

"Alright, alright, it was my mistake," Robin smiled, raising his arms up in defense. He could tell she was getting more nervous by the second. "I was just thinking, you're very good with the sword. It's a shame you're not much better at anything else. I mean, I know you're trying, but seriously, just how bad are you at your job? Do you really think the people have any faith in you as their leader?"

"Robin," Lucina said through clenched teeth.

"You can't even keep your temper in check," he continued. "That poor teacher, she seemed so afraid of you. I'm sure she'll go spread rumors about just how horrible you are to the whole castle. You're really just ruining your own reputation, aren't you?"

"Stop," Lucina said, clenching the hilt of her sword.

Good. "Not that you had a good one in the first place. Being known as 'Gangrel's War Machine' isn't the best thing, is it? But I guess that wasn't really your fault, you were so young after all, you didn't have much of a choice in the matter. But now you do, and you still act like a war machine. You haven't grown much, have you? You try, and try, but no matter how much you do try, you're just hiding your true self. You just learned how to act normal. You'll never learn. You'll never be the good little princess Chrom hoped you would be. Well, I should say good little Exalt now, shouldn't I?"

"WHY DO YOU DO THIS TO ME?!" Lucina screamed, shifting her body ever so slightly in order to face him. As her sword moved in the direction of her body, Robin quickly pressed his right wrist against the blade, cleanly opening a cut in his skin. Lucina watched as the blood dripped down his arm and into the floor. She felt like the world around her was spinning as a black smoke started to consume her and Robin. She looked up at him with horror in her eyes, while his held an excitement she had never seen in him before.

"Yes," he grinned. His teeth became sharper, scales covered his face as it became more and more. His wings ripped through his clothes, his arms and legs shrunk and shrunk as they formed into one long torso. Horns ripped through the skin in his head and his eyes glowed an even more scarlet red. And yet, despite him becoming more unrecognizable by the second, that damn smirk of his still stood out. In a voice that seemed none like his own, he said, "You are a good little Exalt."

A gust of wind pushed everyone in the vicinity into the wall, so hard it made cracks. Lucina groaned as the roar of lighting came down on the smoke that now covered Robin. The sky turned purple as clouds swirled overhead. Lucina struck the tip of her sword into the ground and used it as a leverage to stand up. Honestly, she could barely feel her legs right now, she wouldn't be surprised if they were broken. She looked up at the cloud of black smoke that surrounded the area, and suddenly, she was glad the area had an open roof.

The smoke only grew taller and larger, until a roar dissolved it all away. All that was left behind was a serpent with three pairs of wings, large horns on each side of its head, and three pairs of red eyes.

It was horrifying. She was sure the monster was as tall as the castle. For fucks sake, it was almost as wide as the training area. And yet, somehow, she knew this wasn't it. She knew this was only the weakest version of it. She knew it could only grow larger. She read it once, in the history books, that it was as big as all of Ylisstol.

"Grima," she breathed. The serpent roared once again, so loudly she had to get down on one knee in hopes it would decrease the sound just a little bit. As she looked up at it again, she could see it was looking at her. She couldn't tell what expression it was making. And then, without a moment's notice, it soared away, off to cause chaos in the land.

***

(A/N: little warning (?) I worked on the next couple of pages over a long period of time so if the art style is inconsistent, that's why. I only redrew the first couple of pages. Secondly, some slightly disturbing content up ahead as well, dealing with torture and blood. You've been warned)

"And look at those eye bags! How long has it been since you last slept?!" Said the Miss. Her face turned cold as her lips pressed into a thin line. "Don't tell me, have you been writing these last couple of nights?"

The dry desert air blew around them, sand particles blowing into their eyes and mouth. The sun was bright and hot, increasing the chances of overheated bodies appearing over the sandy dunes. The crack of whips startled the two, but they quickly got over it. The boy's dark brown eyes had no feelings behind them as he said, "I have."

The Miss clicked her tongue and began walking away from him. "Child, we are slaves! We are not supposed to know how to read or write! If those guards find out you've been writing, they'll-"

"I don't care."

She stopped in her tracks and turned to face the boy again. "What?" She said in a low, almost threatening voice.

"I don't care if they find out, I'll keep writing no matter what," the boy said. He remained silent for anew seconds, before breaking out into a casual smile once more. "If I do get caught, I can just run away anyway! I can't say I'll make it far but it's something." He walked away just as some guards were walking up to them, a whip in his hands. The Miss glanced at the guard and nodded. The guard nodded back then walked away, opposite the direction the boy went.

She furrowed her eyebrows as she looked back at the boy's walking figure. "That poor child," she said in hushed tones and walked away as well.

***

The night breeze was far colder than in the day. Truly, the boy far preferred night time more than day time. During the day, he had to work, lifting massive bricks with the fear that he may be whipped in the back for making a mistake. Not to mention, the heat was overbearing. And while the temperature at night wasn't quite ideal either, considering it was near freezing, it was far more enjoyable. Another benefit of the night was that it was dark. There were little to no lights, not even from the small town that was near where the slaves decided. Not even the castle, which stood in the middle of the town, shone bright. No one would notice if a mere slave slipped away momentarily.

He tip-toed his way past a brick column and sat right behind it. He looked around for any guards first before getting to work. He loved this spot. He had always come here whenever he wanted to write, though, it would be more accurate to say draw. He couldn't actually write, obviously. He had been born into slavery, slaves weren't allowed to read or write. So, the best he could do was make drawing on the sand using his fingers. His favorite kind of drawings? Strategical ones. He'd seen a couple fights here an there, and he did hear there was a war way before he was born, but he had never had any actual fighting experience before. Unless whippings counted. Strategizing was fascinating to him, he felt like he was born to do it. He didn't know if he was any good at it, it's not like he could test them out or anything, but it was still enjoyable.

As he drew various strategies, he couldn't help but to look at his right hand. There was a mark on it, one of six eyes next to each other in pairs. He's had it for as long as he could remember, and he somehow doubted it was a birthmark. Perhaps his parents somehow drew it on him when he was born. He never met his parents, so it's not like he could verify with them. Still, it's always disturbed him for some reason. He had tried asking others what it meant, but they had no clue either. And it's not like the guards would explain anything even if they knew.

"First, we could," he said to himself as he drew a couple of men with swords. He quickly wiped it away. "No, the enemy could ambush." Then, he drew men holding a stick of wood slightly held back by a string tied on each end. Bows, he heard they were called. They were the next new thing apparently, it allowed for attacks from a long range. To him, it was fascinating. "Then what about. No, then our defense would be weak." He drew on and on, coming up with brand new strategies within seconds, but to him, they were all failures. "Maybe I'm not good at strategizing after all."

"Well, well, so you were here after all." He felt his heart stop as a deep voice came from behind him. His body immediately started shaking as his blood went cold. Suddenly, he could feel just how cold the wind was, like every cell in his body had become far more sensitive than before. He turned his head, and sure enough, there were three guards there, and behind them, was the Miss. "Good job on finding the misbehaveds, Miss," one of the the guards said to her.

The Miss smiled. "Of course, it's my job after all."

"Yes, yes, well don't worry, I'll take care of him," the guard said as he yanked the boy up by his robe. He looked at the boy, licking his lips, "I'm gonna have some fun with you."

As the guard dragged him away and tears formed in his eyes, he looked back at the Miss in hopes that this was all some sick joke, that none of this was real. But as she smiled and he was pushed further along, he knew his fate would not be a good one.

***

"AGH!!" The whip tore through the skin on his back, then with another crack, the skin of his torso bled. His dark brown hair covered his eyes now, he couldn't manage the strength to lift his head anymore. The room was dark, the only thing that somewhat lit it up was a ray of sunshine from the passageway that lead to the entrance of the chamber.  Another crack, on his arms this time. The chains that held his arms up felt tighter and tighter by the second.

"Hehe, well, I guess that's enough for today," said the guard as he walked up to the boy, forcefully raising his head with his hand.

TW// blood

cc: yes, this is what you deserve

(a/n: sorry I reached the picture limit and I had to improvise. cc: I don't feel guilty in the slightest)