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Bunny, You've Got a Big Storm Coming

Summary:

“I see. Someone’s already beaten me to ruining your day,” Grima says. “I could still make it much worse for you, if you’d like—”

Chrom has half a mind to ask him how the hell he plans to do that, because seriously, what’s “much worse” than finding out that your friends think you’re stupid and that they’re probably right because there’s a good chance you’re going to get yourself killed in one of several horrible wars coming your way in the immediate future? No, really, it would almost be a relief to know that this isn’t the worst possible thing that could ever happen to him!

Notes:

I started writing this when it was close to Easter but then I put it on hold to write a different fic, so... Now it's slightly less timely. But I mean, it's still spring, so it's not as untimely as it could be! (LAST April I wrote a fic with WINTER Chrom...)

I've been writing a lot of Chrom encouraging and comforting Grima lately, so I was really in the mood for a helping of some good old classic Chrom Insecurity. With FEH rerunning its spring banners, I was reminded of the FEH manga's "Unfortunate Encounters" comic (here but it's a compilation post so you have to scroll down to "55: Unfortunate Encounters"). Given how one of Spring Chrom's lines in-game is "Those in my group, the Shepherds, tell me to wear more dashing outfits. This dashing enough?" I can't help but think it would really hurt his feelings if he heard Robin saying he looks like an "utter fool" in his costume...

Work Text:

Chrom can’t get the words out of his head. He looks like an utter fool. Sure, Robin didn’t say it to his face, but that just makes it worse. He looks like an utter fool.

And here he thought he was sporting a princely look. The Shepherds always tell him he should look more dashing, and he thought he’d done a decent job of dressing up for the Spring Festival this year… But obviously, he thought wrong. Robin hates it.

Robin hates it and he wouldn’t even say it to Chrom’s face.

Chrom has to leave. It’s not that he’s a coward, or that he can’t handle a little criticism. He can live with the embarrassment and disappointment! It’s just that it’s impossible for him to keep a smile on his face like this. A child—one younger than Ricken, gods, the situation in Askr must be incredibly dire if kids are expected to serve the Order of Heroes before even reaching their teens—takes one look at his face and starts apologizing, which certainly doesn’t make him feel any better. It just drives home the fact that a festival is no place for a cranky old mope.

“I should have stuck to hiding eggs…” He sighs. “At least then, nobody would have seen me or my stupid clothes or my ugly face…”

“What are you muttering about, rabbit?”

Chrom yelps as a hand lands on his cape, tugging him backwards. He isn’t too frightened, though. He knows that voice.

“R-Robin?”

“Yes…” the man drawls. “Though not the one you’re running from… Or perhaps I should say ‘not yet,’ heh…”

“Oh…”

As he turns around, it becomes clear that the Robin next to him is different from the one Chrom is familiar with. It’s not just that he physically appears about a decade older; there’s something about his presence, too, that feels heavier. Like he’s seen a lot more than Chrom has.

Well, nothing about that is surprising. Chrom is only 19, and while he doesn’t think his experience as captain of the Shepherds is nothing, it’s not a lot compared to the things he’ll apparently go through soon, if the alternate selves he’s seen around are any indication.

Honestly, it’s intimidating. When he woke up and started getting ready for the Spring Festival, he had no idea that he was going to be summoned to a different world, let alone that going there would expose him to his own future—or rather, several potentials that could await him.

He’s already met his daughter—a terrifying thing given that he’s never even courted anyone before—as she was summoned preparing for the Spring Festival, too, but she soon reunited with some of her friends and left him alone. He can’t blame her for not wanting to invite him along; it must be so disappointing that he was summoned instead of her real father—or at least a Chrom who wouldn’t have to be told her name.

As he’s only been in Askr for a few days, though, most of the things he’s heard about the “World of Awakening” are just rumors… albeit upsetting ones. Emmeryn dies, and he becomes the exalt of Ylisse? Ylisse and Plegia go to war? The Empire of Valm across the sea invades the Ylissean continent? And worst of all, it seems no one’s safety is guaranteed. In some worlds, Chrom lives, but in so many others, he dies, leaving his daughter and everyone who’s ever stood beside him to fight alone…

Robin shares this unclear fate. In some worlds, he lives and is celebrated triumphantly, while in others, he dies in the final battle as some kind of martyr. And as for the person they say he was fighting in that battle…

It doesn’t make sense, but it was his own future self.

Yes, Chrom has heard of the Robin in front of him now.

“You’re… the one who calls himself Grima, right?” he asks.

“So you’re aware…” Grima chuckles. “And yet, you neither flee my presence nor lunge at me… Fascinating.”

Chrom grimaces. Though he’s heard as much everywhere—even from the Summoner themself, who thought he might need a warning—it’s bizarre to see in person that his best friend really does respond to the name of the fell dragon, to the name of the biggest villain in Ylissean history.

And it’s not just the name, they say. The dragon comes out on the battlefield when called for. Robin, Chrom’s tactician, and Grima, the fell dragon are truly one and the same.

“Yeah, er, well… You’re looking… good…” Chrom clears his throat. “I mean, considering… You know…”

“Oh, yes, of course I know,” Grima says dryly, an amused gleam in his eyes. “I know everything, at all times.”

“Er, sorry,” Chrom says. “To tell you the truth, I don’t know how to feel right now.”

“You are face to face with the fell dragon, Grima.” Grima smiles sardonically. “What is there to feel but complete despair?”

“I… don’t know…”

Maybe it would be simpler if they were out on the battlefield right now, if Chrom could see the actual fell dragon and not just the face of his friend. Yes, Grima looks older…. And yes, his eyes have gone red—but that’s not unusual for dark magic practitioners, and the Robin Chrom knows is proficient in magic and weapons of all kinds. Honestly, Chrom always thought his tactician’s abilities were kind of godlike… Apparently, he was more right than he ever could have imagined.

The truth is, Grima doesn’t look that different from Chrom’s Robin. And even though he’s saying things that Chrom would never expect to hear from Robin…

He looks like an utter fool.

What does Chrom know about Robin’s feelings, anyway?

Grima sighs, clearly unimpressed. So make that something else he and the other Robin have in common.

“I see. Someone’s already beaten me to ruining your day,” he says. “I could still make it much worse for you, if you’d like—”

Chrom has half a mind to ask him how the hell he plans to do that, because seriously, what’s “much worse” than finding out that your friends think you’re stupid and that they’re probably right because there’s a good chance you’re going to get yourself killed in one of several horrible wars coming your way in the immediate future? No, really, it would almost be a relief to know that this isn’t the worst possible thing that could ever happen to him!

“But since my other self is the one at fault for this,” Grima continues before Chrom gets the chance to say anything, “I suppose I might spare you this once. It is a holiday, after all.”

“Then… You still celebrate Ylissean festivals—”

“What? No!” Grima exclaims. “You didn’t let me finish! Today is a holiday… A holiday I have no desire to partake in, that is! I was told that there was a tournament to be held at the festival, but it’s too late for either of us to join it now… Thus, I have no further purpose here. Now I intend to leave before any more of my time is wasted.”

Grima brushes past him, and without thinking, Chrom catches him by the sleeve.

“Wait, don’t go!”

Grima pauses, turning to Chrom with an incredulous stare.

“Sorry,” Chrom says. “I don’t know what came over me…”

That’s not entirely true. Though he can barely make sense of all the feelings whirling inside him, he knows one thing—he doesn’t want to be alone right now. Normally, he’d go talk to Robin… but Robin would only be ashamed to see him right now. Grima probably feels ashamed, too, but…

But still, Grima stopped for him.

“Hmph… Is this a challenge?” Grima chuckles, twisting his arm and capturing Chrom’s wrist. “We can fight one-on-one if it pleases you. I have no need for judges or prizes in a contest of strength.”

“Yeah, er…” Even though Chrom never intended to issue a challenge, he might as well go with it. “Let’s do it. Just you and me and our muscles, alright? My carrot axe is too brittle to be going up against dragon scales.”

Grima smiles, showing his teeth.

“As you wish.”

Despite Grima’s sinister tone, Chrom can’t deny that the chills he’s getting are more out of excitement than nervousness. This is going to do him some good, he’s sure of it. Exercise always cheers him up.

It’s not hard to find a good place to spar—most people are at the festival, leaving plenty of room in the castle for a couple of heroes to smack each other around.

It just feels a little surreal that the hero he’s about to smack around is the fell dragon of legend. And also Chrom’s best friend from the future. Or, well, a future. Maybe Chrom’s future, maybe not. It doesn’t really make a difference while they’re in Askr together—there isn’t any version of Robin that Chrom wouldn’t care about.

Although, that doesn’t mean all versions of Robin care about him… or even that any of them do. Given the ones he’s met in Askr so far, maybe he should be worried.

“Hey, Grima…” he says hesitantly. “Is it true you don’t have any memories of the world you come from?”

It’s something else the Summoner mentioned to him.

“None of being in this body, anyway,” Grima says, shrugging.

Though he sounds nonchalant about it, Kiran told Chrom that his memory loss actually causes him a lot of grief. Chrom quickly hurries on, not wanting to rub salt in the wound.

“Then… You don’t remember how you felt about the me that you met there.”

Though Chrom didn’t mean to offend, he fears he’s failed. Grima stiffens up immediately.

“No. I know nothing about that,” he says. “My feelings for you are— Nothing.”

“Right…” Chrom says. “I understand.”

He sighs. It’s no different from him meeting Lucina. He and Grima don’t know each other at all.

Except apparently, Grima can still read him like an open book anyway, because he lets out a sigh of his own.

“If you’re wondering if your Robin is lying to you about his entire life and personality, you can relax.” Grima chuckles darkly. “In your time, he hasn’t got enough of a clue about the truth to know what to lie about…”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Chrom asks.

“Heh… It means that the only one lying is that other me you overheard earlier,” Grima says.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Chrom asks.

“I’m saying that he doesn’t think you look like a fool.”

“Then what does he think?” Chrom asks, because he’d honestly love an explanation that isn’t just him being the biggest loser in all the realms. “The words ‘he looks like an utter fool’ are a little too specific to come out on accident, you know! Why would he say it, unless some part of him really considers me that way…”

Grima lets out a frustrated growl.

“Seriously? Aren’t you supposed to be young and hot-blooded? Do I really have to spell it out for you?” Grima’s face reddens slightly. “Think about it for a minute. You surprised him in front of everyone with your…”

He gestures up and down Chrom’s body.

“With my what?” Chrom complains. “This is traditional festival attire!”

“That’s why he panicked!” Grima insists. “No one would take him seriously if he started swooning over you just because you put on a flowery cape and rabbit ears!”

“Swooning?” Chrom scoffs. “He was glowering! Why would you think—”

Grima growls again.

“Put it out of your mind!” he snaps. “Everything he said, everything I said, just forget all of it! I won’t have a distracted sparring partner.”

Chrom grimaces. Technically, it was his challenge… that Grima made up out of thin air, but still… He’s lucky Grima didn’t brush him off entirely. The least he can do is focus.

“I’ll do my best,” he promises. “I want a good match as much as you do. Not to boast, but I’m often told I don’t know my own strength.”

“That doesn’t sound like a compliment,” Grima says.

That’s because it isn’t one. But Chrom can bounce back from an insult. Really.

Chrom grins.

“I’m just warning you,” he says. “I don’t want to break you.”

“You think you can break the—” Grima hisses before cutting himself off abruptly. “Heh… Heh, bold words from such a little rabbit. Go on, then. Show me the prey’s grand strategy to devour the predator. I’d love to see how that works.”

“Ha! Then make your move, o mighty hunter.”

There’s a lot Chrom has to think about, but for the moment, he’ll let his frustrations flow into his training.

It’s nice that even in another world, there’s someone willing to do this with him.