The sorceress sighed as she made her way into her tent, clenching her fists until her nails left marks in her palms. She was frustrated, but she couldn't stay mad at her beloved for too long. It wasn't Robin's fault. The tactician simply didn't know what they wanted.
"It wasn't entirely a waste of time," Tharja said to herself, looking down into the clump of hair in her hand. It took all the self control not to tamper with the lock of snow white hair. Tonight her plan would be completed, and the tactician would be only hers instead of always being by the blasted exalt Chrom. Oh how she hated him, all he did was steal her precious Robin's attention.
She waited for nightfall before practically pouncing on an iridescent tome. Years of magic and mental preparation were required to even perform the most basic spells in the tome, but she knew it would be well worth it. Tharja read from the book, reciting the incantations until the room filled with a blue light that formed a circle in the center of the tome. She held up the lock of hair and dropped it into the seemingly bottomless hole.
In a quick burst of light, a tiny dart of energy darted out the tent, prompting the sorceress to follow it through the camp. Realizing it went straight into Robin's tent, a sickly sweet smile formed on her lips as she entered the tactician's living space and saw a shrunken ___________ on the cot.
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