Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The barracks was not a place Robin hung around often.

Her presence was a fluid thing. Something not unlike the barracks, nor the mind of the enigma of the woman herself.

The structure of the barracks was never a sure thing. From the painfully rare walls of stone or clay to the more common barriers and covers of harsh tarp and stiff linen. It's location ever changing, depending on where the soldiers were staying in the country, if they were outside of Ylisstol at all.

Most everyone was used to pitching camp for a night or two. War had lead to dire conditions. Rainy and muddy plains, barren ocy wastes or blistering, endless desert. Battle and delay could happen anywhere. So one had to be prepared to sleep in the worst conditions.

On this day, the well-loved band of Shepherds were lucky enough to have had an empty building lent to them for by a particularly giving and grateful village. This one wasn't even decrepit!.

This rarity had coupled with a human presence even rarer still. For as many times they’d begging and pleaded, Cordelia's fellow shepherds saw no change in the way Robin declined their offers of companionship and invitations of conversation within the barracks. Not in the month since Chrom had first found her, alone and confused in a field.

Sometimes she would perhaps pop by on a whim. Maybe once or twice a week, in an effort to ask whisper-quiet questions or bark out a sudden request for a meeting.

If Robin was going to sit somewhere, in her relaxation time, it would be in her own tent with her books. Far away from the clutter of the public, of the barracks and of everything else.

Which begged the question— one she'd been asked many times today— what was she doing there now?

It had been close to 4 hours that she'd been cooped up, sitting in an oddly guarded position on an undoubtedly uncomfortable wooden seat in the building's corner. Nothing for company but a teetering stack of books and tomes.

She looked happy enough at first glance. Seemingly immersed in the space. One that was hardly suited for study. Many had walked by and done a double-take upon seeing the familiar sight of a platinum ponytail poking out from behind a thick-paged history book. Lissa, Stahl and even Miriel had inquired to the new arrangement, and she'd answered them all similarly.

'I just needed a change of scenery!' Was the sentence on constant repeat. Spoken each time with a bright smile and warm tone. They'd all accepted her reasoning, and after a nod or smile in return, they'd said goodbye and moved on.

Cordelia was not so easily convinced.

Robin was new. More importantly, Robin was an amnesiac. An unknown. A complete mystery to all including herself.

The Shepherds had long since figured out you could not learn about her in the way you could any normal person. For every question you could ask her, she would have no answer and only exacerbate such questions more. All her interests and hobbies were unshareable. Her likes and dislikes only presenting themselves as she rencountered them in daily life. And even then, nothinh had re-manifested her memory yet.

But Cordelia was an observer and a quick learner at that. And under all the nerves and book covers, there was one thing Cordelia knew Robin liked.

Structure.

Sure, she didn't like other people's rules. Yes, she had many a complaint about Ylissian law, after reading through a few books leant to her by Maribelle. But she always adhered to her own schedule and routine. Working like a fine-tuned, completely predictable watch.

So a sudden change like this, out of the blue? With no self-set reasoning that she was always so honest about giving?

Something was off. And Cordelia intended to find out what.

Setting her lance against the far side of the barracks wall, Cordelia's eyes were drawn to Robins’ hunched figure once again. How the woman had not utterly destroyed her spine with such poor posture was beyond the Pegasus Knight.

Cordelia supposed that at a glance, Robin looked normal. Her long, purple coat hanging off her chairs back. Same bright and inquisitive eyes, scanning the pages with a meticulous scrutiny. And the same sweep of stark white hair pulled into a tight ponytail at the back of her head. Yes, she looked normal at first glance, but that single glance could only ever touch upon the surface.

Cordelia had seen throughout the hours the way Robin's foot tapped on the floor. Anxious and repetitive, letting out soft and barely audible clacking sounds as it's hard toe hit the slate ground, mostly drowned out by the conversation around the room.

Her fingers would twitch, letting go of her book to play with her hair, no doubt thinking— stressing— going off the share number of times she'd repeated the action. Tugging, twisting and worrying.

Finally, and most tellingly, each time the door would open, her eyes would snap to it. Fixed intently upon the entering figure until they were identified, and then back to her book. As if nothing had happened.

Cordelia was worried. Was there someone following Robin? Was she in danger? It would explain the sudden changes and hernjumpy behaviour. But surely, if that were the case, would she not have spoken up? Or at least told Chrom? Something was up, undoubtedly. And if it was affecting the tactician, then it was going to affect the army. And that was going to affect their performance, off and on the field. And Cordelia was not about to let that happen.

"Good afternoon, Robin," Cordelia called out to Robin's corner, discarding the last of her gear on a nearby crate.

Robin's head poked up from behind her book, eyes meeting Cordelia's. Her lips pulled into a smile. Taking the chance, Cordelia moved swiftly towards the table and took a seat on the chair opposite the tactician.

"Oh, uh— Good afternoon, Cordelia. How are you?" Robin clapped the book shut, setting it down on the table between them. For once, she didn't even look annoyed that her reading had been interrupted. Odd.

"I'm well. A little confused, I must admit. Finding you in here when you're always so insistent on staying away has surprised me. Are you well?" Cordelia spoke plainly. She hadn't talked to Robin many times and wasn't quite sure how to approach the issue subtly. Subtlety, when it came to situations off the battlefield was hardly Robin’s strong suit either.

The woman took no offence, shrugging casually. Robin had done well, putting up this calm air. Cordelia could only think herself lucky that she was one of the more observant people in the Shepherds. Although, not quite as observant as—

“Oh, yes. I came by to see what it was like to have an actual building for our equipment. It's a rarity.” Robin joked and smiled pleasantly again. Such a smile gave Cordelia the opposite impression, but she didn't say anything. Not yet, at the very least.

Robin pushed her book to the side, a short laugh leaving her as she spoke.

"And you aren't the first person to ask me that today. I just needed a—"

"Change of scenery, so I've heard," Cordelia spoke swiftly, watching as Robin quickly shut her mouth. She cursed silently, in her head.

"Sorry, that was rude." She apologized quickly. Robin, in turn, spoke again.

"It's okay! I guess I should come up with something a little newer to say. It must be a little boring to hear over and over. I guess it's easier? It feels easier” Robin began. Perhaps looking up more about amnesia would have helped Cordelia here. She had no idea if the memory loss was causing issues with the tacticians social skills, or if Robin was simply just that awkward.

Loudly, Robin cleared her throat.

“So. I— I, uhm— What about you Cordelia? You've been in here a while. What have you been up to?" Though Cordelia was loathe to change the subject, she conceded to the quick, anxious rambling of the tactician. Her eyes trailed to her gear, nodding at the belt, straps and armour pieces.

"I was just cleaning and organizing things. You'd be surprised how many people just leave their stuff lying around.” She sighed heavily, watching as Robin's nose wrinkle up.

“I hate mess.” She admitted, earning a quirked eyebrow.

“I find that hard to believe. I've been in your room before.” A half smile formed on Cordelia's face as her eyes flickered over to a near table. A bout of loud laughter, courtesy of Sully and Vaike, caught her attention momentarily, and drowned out everything else.

“It's my mess. I like my mess.” The tactician grumbled, but Cordelia could tell from her tone it was all in good jest. Vaike caught her eye and raised a hand, to which Cordelia mirrored.

“I suppose you have your own system. You seem to have things together most of the time, so I'll believe you. Maybe try to keep space on your desk to write, however.” She said, eyes still glued to the other table as Sully reached for a tankard of something. Vaike and Stahl cheering her on. Briefly, Cordelia registered the noise of the door opening, while waiting for Robin to respond.

“Robin? Did I say—” Cordelia began, only to cut herself off as her eyes returned to Robin. She found her conversation partner staring, with near blank eyes.

Robin gazed past Cordelia, into the distance. Stiff as a board and paralyzed. Whipping around in her seat, Cordelia strained to see what had enraptured her friend, brow furrowing as her eyes rested on the doorway.

Frederick.

Cordelia blinked again, looking once, and then twice between Robin and the newly entered knight.

Frederick?

Robin was staring at Frederick. Who had just walked in, fully armoured as always, with a lance at his side. The man looked as if he had finished with some task. He'd likely been walking around the camp, or the village, looking for work to keep himself occupied. He looked normal, unharmed. With that strict, cold resting expression as always.

It was Frederick.

It was just Frederick. But from Robin's expression, she could have sworn the woman had seen a ghost. Her knuckles tensed as they gripped the edge of the table in a death grasp, her body completely unmoving and unblinking. Frozen in place.

Because of Frederick?

Was… this what was troubling her so?

Cordelia looked back at the knight for what felt like the umpteenth time, this time meeting his stare. That same polite smile crossed his lips as he gave her a nod of acknowledgement that Cordelia returned.

It was then that he seemed to notice Robins presence. His face changing accordingly.

Cordelia's brow went from furrowed to raised as his expression steeled, holding Robin in a stern and cold stare. He looked like he was ready to scold the woman in some manner, but stayed still, hands placed neatly behind his back and his stern gaze holding her in place.

And then his name was called.

Lissa, who had gone largely unnoticed by Cordelia, was in her own corner of the room. She waved excitedly at Frederick and stepped towards him. And suddenly the smile —wider,now, she noted— returned to his face like nothing had happened. Like he hadn't tried to bore holes through Robin's skull. Cordelia turned to Robin, brows still raised.

"What... was that?" She asked, staring at Robin who had grabbed her book again, hiding her face with it. She peeked over the top at Cordelia, speaking quietly, as if the knight would be able to hear them over Lissa's loud chattering.

"Ah, Frederick doesn't... well, you know he just…. Doesn't… like me... very much... at all," Robin mumbled sheepishly, as Cordelia waited for the punchline.

Because she had to be joking.

The two had to speak every single day, what with them both constantly being around Chrom. War meetings, training, marching order and even battle. They were to be close to him. At his side.

How in Naga's name could they not get along, especially after all this time?

"Why?"

Chrom loved Robin dearly, as much as it pained Cordelia to admit. And Frederick cared about Chrom and the royal family more than anything else in his life. Should he not like whoever his lord was friends with? Robin was hardly someone Cordelia associated with trouble.

"He doesn't trust me," Robin said, moving a hand to her book briefly, before thinking better of it and setting the whole thing down entirely. Her hand pressed to her cheek like she was taking a temperature, but Cordelia paid that no mind, listening on.

"I understand, of course, the circumstances we met under weren't exactly normal," Robin said, making a fair point. Waking up with amnesia in a field was fairly suspicious. And that was doubled with her Plegian coat...

"But... it's been a month! And you're the tactician! You've fought Risen with us, prevented Emmeryn's assassination— Surely he would have gotten over it by now?" Vocalizing her thoughts.

Robin shook her head, waving her hand like she was waving away a fly.

"It's really not that big of an issue, Cordelia," Robin said, lying through her teeth. Cordelia didn't have to be a mind reader to know that. Or that this was the reason Robin had moved into here.

Her schedule and reading spots— they'd been changed to try and limit time with Frederick, she assumed. So that when he did come looking for her she'd be in an open place full of people. Cordelia could feel her stomach knot as she stared at Robin in pity.

"I could have a talk to him if you'd like," She said sincerely, moving to push herself up from her seat, completely prepared to do so there and now.

"If you're afraid of him—"

Robin jolted, shaking her head firmly before sputtering and begging for her to stop.

"What? N—No! I'm not afraid of him, at all. It's alright, honestly Cordelia." Robin assured, waving her hands forward wildly like Cordelia was the one who needed to calm down. Her eyes were wide and nearly manic. Robin’s cheeks flushed and as Cordelia went to ask her why, the two were silenced by a laugh she'd never heard before.

Breathy and hearty, both women turned their attention to Frederick who, shockingly, was the source of said sound. It was short, but it was real. Evidenced by his genuinely bright smile. It seemed to be something that Lissa had said which had brought around the strange noise.

"I've never seen him smile like that." Cordelia noted, only a little shocked that such a warm expression could form on the cold knight's face. Robin sighed heavily, and Cordelia turned to her with a start.

"It happens when he talks to Chrom. About Lissa and Emmeryn." Robin explained, her voice a tad softer. Her eyes returned to her book cover, not daring to look anywhere else. Had she known better, Cordelia could have sworn there was a touch of jealousy in her voice. But that couldn't be possible, considering what she'd just learnt.

"Robin, you aren't implying..." Cordelia trailed off and grew quieter. Robin shifted in her seat, responding swiftly and curtly as if she wanted to talk about something else.

"Wh—, no, no. No, I’m not implying anything. I'm just saying that he cares about them all. A lot. It's his job." Her eyes went back to Frederick, a flash of sharp attention in her eyes that Cordelia knew all too well. Like a pauldron attaching to a breastplate, it all clicked into place.

"Oh," Cordelia said aloud, as Robin's eyes widened a bit and she dropped her book to her lap.

"I—I mean absolutely nothing against the Exalt or Lissa, or even Chrom! I swear. I used the wrong words, and I'm sorry for that. Lissa is lovely to me and Emmeryn is a wonderful leader and woman. Chrom's never been anything but sweet, and I look forward to working with them all more after the war. I shouldn't—” Robin rambled, but Cordelia was too wrapped up in her thoughts.

This was all starting to make sense. The move to the barracks, a place Frederick visited frequently. The hurried glances to the doorway— not of fear, but anticipation. All of her restlessness and anxiety…

"You wanted to see him more, didn't you?" Cordelia asked, cutting off Robin's ramblings and turning her face all hues of red and pink.

"I—I wouldn't— I would never—"

"Do you love him?" Cordelia pressed on, stunning Robin into a short silence. Her eyes trailing to tabletop, where she picked at an unsanded edge.

"He doesn't—" Robin began, but Cordelia lifted a hand, repeating herself in a firm tone.

"But do you love him?" Robin didn't speak, she didn't even raise her gaze, staring into the grain quietly, giving Cordelia all the information she needed. Her chest ached with sympathy, heart twinging as she spoke.

"He despises me, Cordelia. " Robin spoke mournfully, sinking low into her chair with a quiet moan. Cordelia sighed as she watched her friend turn into a puddle of misery.

"What was your plan?" Robin always had a plan, no matter the situation. At least, that was what Cordelia thought before she watched the woman cringe in front of her, sinking lower into her seat.

"I don't know, just... wait. Until I stopped feeling this way." Robin said slowly, wincing at how much worse it sounded aloud. Cordelia let out a long sigh, giving her a tired stare.

"No plan to confess?" Robin returned Cordelia's look, raising her eyebrow.

"Would you confess to Chrom in this situation?" Now it was Cordelia's turn to be silent, her face and ears turning pink and Robin gave her a knowing look. Gods, she wasn't that obvious, was she?

"Oh, don't worry," Robin sighed and extended a hand, patting Cordelia's own gently. "I'm pretty sure only I've noticed. Chrom is as dense as a brick. Your secret is safe with me." Flustered, Cordelia gave her a nod, averting her eyes out of sheer embarrassment.

"Likewise." She answered before an awkward silence hung between the two. Robin liking Frederick. Though the woman had admitted it, Cordelia found it hard to believe it was true. She'd never even thought of Robin as the type of person with the time to have feelings for anyone, especially during a war. In Robin's defence, many people had the same idea of Cordelia. And it was utterly wring. Then again, Cordelia wasn't suffering from total amnesia...

And then there was Frederick. Stoic and austere. The mere thought of him being in love, or being in a relationship was quite... absurd to Cordelia. She wasn't sure the man had any more love to give with his pure devotion to the royal family. She couldn't begin to think what loving a man so strait-laced and strict would even be like. Bringing herself out of her thoughts, she addressed her forlorn friend.

"Can I ask you something?" Robin's lifted her head, shrugging spiritlessly.

"Why not? I've already let everything else spill." She said with a noise that sounded like the offspring of a sigh and a laugh. Cordelia grimaced at the sound, pressing on.

"Why... do you love him?" Her eyes set on Robin's face as it twisted, contorting into one of confusion.

"What do you mean?" She addressed Cordelia with an incredulous tone, taking the woman by surprise.

"Well, all that he shows you is disdain and distrust. How can you love someone who thinks that poorly of you, who treats you with suspicion and nothing else?" Cordelia explained. Just having Chrom barely notice her presence killed Cordelia inside. To have feelings for someone who doubted your every word? Who held you in the lowest regard? Viewed you as a threat? It sounded nightmarish, yet there Robin was, eyes trailing over to the knight where he stood. Tall, proud and listening to Lissa's every word.

"Have you seen how he acts with her? With Chrom? Emmeryn?" Cordelia followed her gaze, nodding just a bit.

It's true, he was different. Still stern and watchful, but more like a doting parent or caregiver then a harsh instructor. Cordelia watched Robin let out a soft sigh as the corners of Frederick's lips turned up in response to something the young princess had said.

"He's gentle. Stern, absolutely. No doubt about that. But it clearly comes from a place of love. He cares for them, for everyone— well, nearly everyone here. He'll clear pebbles to stop Chrom from tripping, and wake up in the early hours of the morning to repair tents so no one gets cold as they sleep and..." Her tone sounded giddy, and Cordelia could see the light in her eyes as she tried her best not to gush, before they dimmed again, her tone returning to a heartbroken state. Another sigh and Cordelia began to work it out.

"And you want him to act that way with you?" Robin bit her lip.

"Yes, and no..." She began, pulling herself out of her slumped position, sitting straight up. She moved her hand like a scale tipping back and forth.

"It's not just that. I don't want that complete level of dedication. I just..." Robin cut herself off, shaking her head as she rubbed her eyes.

"Still I... It's selfish to want that, isn't it? To take away from the others." Cordelia thought back to her dreams about Chrom. Fantasies were all they were, but how her heart ached for them to be real. To have him there when she woke to every difficult morning and to lay with during every cold night.

"Everyone wants to be loved, Robin. It's natural." A little more emotion seeped into her voice, far more than Cordelia had intended. Her hand extended and she returned the supportive pat she'd received minutes ago.

"I just feel displaced," Robin began, her eyes misting up a little. Like she was lost in memories she didn't have.

"Especially when I'm alone. It's not just that I don't have a partner. I don't have anyone. No family. No memory. It's all so... empty. I feel like I'm empty."

Robin's vulnerabilities being laid in the open air, Cordelia felt at a loss for words. She'd lamented the woman's amnesia many a time, wondering just how someone would cope waking up as a blank slate. The answer Robin was giving seemed to be one lacking of any coping method at all. There was no base to start consoling Robin from, and no training to tell Cordelia how exactly go about this discussion.

"You know that's not true, right? Lissa and Chrom, they care about you. So do the other Shepherds. So do I!" She tried, and to her credit, it worked a little. Robin's eyes clearing up after a few blinks, looking at Cordelia's face with an expression that was just a little more grounded.

"I know. But sometimes I wish I had someone to hold onto after battles, you know?" Cordelia didn't answer. She didn't need to. She knew. Of course she knew.

Robin's head turned to one of the dirtied windows. Even with its clouded state, Cordelia could tell by the light it was well past the late afternoon now. The people on dinner duty would be starting with their preparations now, the jobs and shifts changing hands as fires were lit and tents were checked. As if she'd read Cordelia's mind, Robin stood up and stretched, flashing a weak smile her way.

"Anyway, I mustn't keep you any longer, Cordelia. I'm sure we both have work to do." The woman said, lifting her coat off her chair to throw around her shoulders.

"And where are you off to?" Cordelia asked. There was no way they could simply leave this on such an abrupt end.

"I've got to go over some plans for tomorrow's march. Up over the mountains? I haven't had a good enough look at the terrain, I need to talk about a flyover with Sumia— Don't offer, you have enough on your plate already." Robin explained, pointing in an almost accusatory way at Cordelia, given away by her smile. Still, Cordelia was hesitant. But still, Robin brushed it aside.

"I'm okay. Better now that I've talked about this." She added before Cordelia could get another word in. There was that stubbornness coming back again.

"Just... come to me if you have any more issues. Or Sumia, or Maribelle even. I'm sure they'd both be happy to help." Cordelia murmured as Robin picked up her book, biting her lip as she tucked it under her arm. She hoped Robin would consider it. Maybe Cordelia hadn't exactly vented about her own romantic feelings to the girls, but knew that they had advice that would help Robin. Advice hopefully better than what Cordelia had given herself.

"I'll... I'll keep that in mind. Have a good evening, Cordelia." Robin said, genuinely thinking a moment before making for a quick exit.

"You too, Robin," Cordelia said with a nod as Robin left, brushing quickly past boxes of supplies and crates of weapons before darting through the dark wooden door, and out of sight.

And then Cordelia was alone at the table, eyes on Lissa and Frederick who had paused their conversation, Fredericks gaze following Robin all the way out of the room, before returning to look at Cordelia herself.

Their eyes locked, and Cordelia could hear his thoughts through the look in his eyes. 'Where was she going so quickly?' 'What were the two of you talking about?' Interrogative question after interrogative question. An affair that would give Cordelia no time to reflect on the eye opening conversation she'd all but tossed herself into.

Cordelia was first to break the stare, eyes flickering momentarily towards the recently emptied chair, before back to Frederick. She sighed.

"You owe me one," Cordelia mumbled under her breath, lifting herself from her seat, raising a hand in greeting towards the still staring Frederick with a warm, out-of-her-depth smile.

Was it a bad idea for Cordelia to involve herself in the love life of Robin? Probably. Was this issue of love going to affect the quality of Robin's battle plans? Was the personal life of a Robin quite frankly any business of hers, much less the man who she'd fallen for? No. Not at all.

So with this in mind, was Cordelia really about to confront the object of her friend unrequited affections? With no decided end goal yet in sight?

Yes

Absolutely.

Frederick wasn't making it easy, standing at full attention like he was at some royal event, and not standing in some makeshift barracks in a village thousands of miles away from the capital.

Rigid and alert, he was ready for imminent orders or battle at a moments notice. What Cordelia was about to busy him with was hardly that.

She'd caught his attention with her wave, but walking across the room was harder than she'd expected. A weight was pulling her down, like Robin herself was clinging to her, holding her back from even coming within vast kilometers with the knight. Still, she steeled herself and walked faster.

"Ah, Frederick?" Cordelia asked, finally reaching the man and Lissa, who had gone quiet while watching Cordelia approach. Curiosity glinting in the young princesses eyes. Cordelia did her best to instead concentrate on Frederick, turning her body and eyes to him with full attention.

“I was wondering if we could discuss something?" Her eyes flickered to Lissa, who stared at the two with a smile that spelled trouble.

"In private?" Her voice hushed, and his eyebrow lifted. The princess glanced between the two.

"I guess I'll talk to you later Frederick." She said, raising an eyebrow at Cordelia as she passed by. Cordelia kept a straight face, looking to Frederick as Lissa left. He cleared his throat, looking a little annoyed.

"What is the matter, Cordelia? I mean no offence but I have arrangements to meet—"

“I'm worried about Robin." Cordelia cut him off. She wasn't about to beat around the bush, not with Frederick. Though it seemed as if he almost wished she had, frowning and tilting his head just an inch.

"Pardon?" He asked, sounding taken aback by her comment. Cordelia would have smiled at the irony of it, were she not trying to be serious in the moment. Trying to gauge any and each reaction to her words as she pressed on.

"She seems off. Have you noticed?" She questioned, and again he simply blinked, shoulders untensing for a moment as his hands moved from behind his back to his sides. Cordelia did her best not to be unnerved. He was rigid all the time, seeing him nearly deflate like that was jarring.

"I... admit I have noticed her acting strangely." So Frederick had been watching Robin. And she definitely wasn't overreacting when she said he disliked her. Cordelia could hear the testy bite in his tone at the mere mention of her name.

The thought of hearing Chrom speaking her own name in that tone was enough to nearly re-break her heart and send her right off the deep end.

"Oh?" Cordelia pushed him to elaborate, watching his expressions closely. For a moment his eyes averted her gaze. It's deep brown irises flickering with worry as they looked at the door, before back to Cordelia. She took note of that.

"She has been… quieter. Hanging back with milord and I, after battles. And the staring..." Cordelia felt a prick of fear. She wanted to nudge Frederick towards Robin subtly, not out any feelings for him. He continued, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"It's her eyes, I feel as of they're always on me. She's always jumping or freezing up when I get near..." As he spoke on, his brow creased more.

"I'm starting to wonder..." He mumbled quietly, and locked eyes with Cordelia as her breath caught in her throat.

"If she is a Plegian spy, trying to single me out in an attempt to get to Chrom." Cordelia nearly screamed. Honestly? Honestly?! Naga, for all the awareness he prided himself on having, he was just as dense as his lord.

“Oh my gods," Cordelia whispered under her breath, fighting the urge to clap the man upside the head. Frederick blinked a few times and for a moment she was scared he had heard her.

"What was that?" He asked as she shook her head, giving him a tight smile.

Oh, this was going to be difficult.

"Nothing, it was nothing." She said quickly, waving her hands nonchalantly, yearning to change the subject before he could inquire any further. Pinching her the bridge of her nose, she took a deep breath.

"Frederick, I'll admit, a spy isn't what I was going for. I was thinking that she's more..." She trailed off, seeing if Frederick would follow. He stared at her, a delay in his speech.

"More...?" He prompted her back, and Cordelia choked on the sigh she fought to hold back, coughing into her arm for a moment. It was like she was trying to drop hints with Chrom all over again. Like firing cotton cannonballs at an iron wall, nothing seemed to be getting through.

"Lonely, Frederick,” Cordelia practically barked out.

“I think she's lonely." She explained, her heart, sinking for Robin when his expression changed to one of discomfort and scorn. How he could hold such virulent feelings for someone he barely knew was beyond her, though she supposed a lack of knowledge was the source of such negative feelings.

“Lonely? Beg my pardon, milady, but how does that have to do with me?" He sounded almost accusatory in his words, eyes narrowed again. The way he was acting you would have thought Robin had brainwashed her. For all that was good on earth, he probably did think that, all things considered.

Cordelia needed to be careful how she worded her next words, insulting Frederick or seeming like she was taking Robin's side was the easiest way to getting into an entire other world of trouble.

“You..." She started, taking a deep breath before pushing ahead. "You have a tendency to... single... her out?" Cordelia explained slowly, cringing as his eyes widened, his straight-line of a mouth opening like it did when he was about to yell at training soldiers.

"How— How utterly absurd! The fact that you would think— I'd!" Cordelia had braced herself, only to find Frederick spluttering over his words. Had she not known better, Cordelia would have thought him flustered. But she did know better, looking him dead in the eye as she spoke.

"You just accused her of being a spy not 30 seconds ago." She pointed out in a flat voice. She didn't want to be blunt, but acting sharp didn't seem to be getting the message across. He went silent, pausing for a moment before clearing his throat.

"Well, I—I'm being cautious. And besides, what would I be to do about it? Put aside my duties to milord? Ignore my better judgement?" At this, suddenly, Cordelia paused.

What did she want Frederick to do? What did Robin want him to do? It what she'd said was anything to go off of… then...

"Just— just talk to her, Frederick. Not just on the battlefield or in war meetings, but in camp. In the mess hall. If anything, you'll be able to gather more information on her." Cordelia proposed, fully prepared for the idea to be shot down faster than a pegasus by an bowman.

But Frederick stayed quiet a moment. He thought it over, and for a second she saw the slight shift in his expression, and the hesitation before his next words.

"I suppose I could... gain to learn some things from a conversation." He conceded with a small sigh, and Cordelia had to hold in her own sigh of sheer relief that threatened to leave her lips. Maybe he was simply saying it to get her to back off, but at the moment, it was enough for Cordelia.

“Good. That would be good. Great, even.” She smiled at him sincerely, sighing out the words like a prayer. Frederick only shifted his stance, eyes returning to the door and his hands affixing behind his back.

"If that is all you wished to say..." He trailed off, almost fidgeting in his anxiety to leave. Cordelia gave a quick nod, waving her hand towards the door. He was always so quick to jump to work, she supposed, from a tacticial point of view, she could understand Robin's interest in someone that devoted.

“Go, I wouldn't want to keep you from your duties any longer." She said simply as he bowed his head and exited the room.

He left Cordelia standing in the barracks, free to let out a long groan and lean against a nearby box.

“You alright?” Sully called from where she'd just won her arm wrestling competition, but she simply waved a hand and pinched her nose.

“Just peachy.” She said shortly, looking down at the floor.

She had set something in motion. With no idea whether the outcome would be a good or bad one. Robin was never going to do anything about her feelings, and that they were better handled quickly. That was the excuse she made in her head. Another was that pushing Frederick towards a more amicable relationship with Robin was a good cause.

All these ran through her head as she did her best to convince herself that this definitely wasn't a vicarious outlet for her own situation.

Not at all.

Heaving yet another sigh she rubbed her face, acutely aware of the fatigue-like exhaustion that the 2 short conversations had caused her. She felt she had played the part of the concerned bystander well. Perhaps it was immoral, meddling in two of her comrade's lives. But if it was to lead Robin to the happiness that she herself felt unreachable, and at the very least to ease Frederick's constant worrying about internal threats to the crown, then it was worth it.

Yes, she had played her part well. Now whatever was to happen was up to fate.

Chapter Text

Stepping into the cooling air of the outside world, Robin did her best to shake off the anxieties she'd just aired in the cool stone walls of the barracks.

Hours ago she had been sitting around like a lovelorn fool. Now, as of a few minutes ago, another human being knew of her embarrassing situation. It should have been liberating, and a weight of her shoulders, but if anything, Robin just felt heavier.

It was like a nightmare, without the benefits that came with being asleep.

Pulling a hand down her face to rub her tired eyes she scanned the small road that ran right through the small town. What few shops there were, were closing. People shutting windows and setting up for the night. There were smiles and laughter as kids played up and down past the houses, clinging to their parents' legs where they peeked out.

There was a war going on, even if you couldn't always see it. Sometimes it was clear, on days there were battle after battle against rotting risen, dragging themselves up from the soft dirt of old farming field. Bandits taking advantage of the poor situations of innocent people, and Plegian soldiers looking to sow chaos throughout Ylissean land.

Tents as homes, constant moving and training and planning. She’d spent maybe one night in an actual bed in Ylisstol before moving around again, slotting into the constant daily rounds of The Shepherds.

Technically, it was all Robin had ever known. All she could remember, at the very least.

“Robin!” Before she could lament her situation any longer, a bright and friendly voice caught her attention. Looking to her left, she found her eyes resting on the fully armoured Pegasus Knight, Sumia, who had just knocked her hip into a barrel while jogging over.

“Ah, Sumia— Are you okay?” Wincing at the sudden stumble. Sumia recovered quickly, as she always did, blushing a little at the trip as she came to a stop in front of Robin.

“Are you ready to do some scouting? We only have an hour or so left of daylight.” Looking at the clouds and sky, Robin hummed. It was clear, but the fading light was obvious. They were going to need to get a move on

“Yep, I have my book and pencil. I just need to get a quick layout, we’re going to need to get to Regna Ferox quickly.” It had been a few days since leaving Emmeryn with her guard, and time was running short. The assassination attempt had everyone on edge, and the sooner the Shepherd reached the Khans for aid, the better.

“By the end of tomorrow we should have enough supplies to get our army to the city,” Robin began, as the two women walked down the street towards the edge of the village.”Then it’ll be a matter of convincing them to join us.”

“That shouldn’t be so hard. Basilio let us have Lon’qu. We have their trust.” Sumia made a good point, but they had to be prepared for anything.

“You certainly did make an impression, the way you flew down and saved Chrom. He was so reckless fighting on those walls....” As they began to step from the packed dirt road to loose ground, Sumia blushed.

“I... I did what anyone would do.” She mumbled shyly, as Robin smiled. Everyone seemed to have a soft spot for the prince. Which made sense to her, he’d always been kind.

“Are you sure your pegasus will be okay carrying the two of us?” Robin asked, changing the question. Now away from the small, unassuming buildings and out in the fields, Robin could see her there. White and feathery, in between the grass and away from the other horses.

“She’s strong, I wouldn’t worry too much,” Sumia assured her, stepping through the long grass, approaching the animal with a confidence mostly absent from her day to day. Robin watched on in awe.

She’d never even really tried to ride a horse, much less a pegasus. So big and strange, Robin thought herself far more stable on the ground than a few feet up, teetering on its back. The thought of being so high up made her nauseous. And now here she was, about to clamber onto it’s back. Robin swallowed hard.

“She won't hurt you.” Sumia giggled, running her fingers through one of the outstretched wings. They were huge up close, and though she’d seen Cordelia and Sumia in the sky battling before, they were truly that much more intimidating up close.

“I know that…” Robin mumbled, still staring from the sidelines. She felt like she’d swallowed a live eel as she watched Sumia climb up and offer a hand. Her insides squirming with nerves. Hesitantly though, she took it.

“C’mon!” Sumia cheered, and with one strong pull on her end, and some scrambling for the stirrups on Robin’s, she was finally pulled atop the Pegasus. Instantly, her arms went around Sumia’s waist.

“I’m going to fall.” She said as the pegasus began to trot, quickly picking up speed.

“We haven’t even left the ground yet!” Sumia called back to her, seconds before the beast broke out of the long grass and into the less tangled field, launching off the ground and into the air with alarming speed.

“Now I’m going to fall!” Robin yelped, sure that her voice was lost to the rushing wind around her body. Below, the grass and village seemed to get further and further away, the mountains far more impressive from all the way up. Clouds became closer and closer until she could feel the water in their light mass. Her feet dangled, fingers digging into Sumia’s thick clothes and armour. How did she do this every day? In battle as well? It was insane!

“You’ll be fine.” Sumia laughed and looked back, giving Robin a reassuring smile. Rising higher towards the sky, Robin remembered why exactly she was up here in the first place, and without responding to Sumia, used her shaking hands and fingers to retrieve one of her many notebooks from her coat, and a pencil. Her grip was like a vice, laying the book on her lap, the other hand still clinging to Sumia as she glanced down over and over, and began to write.

For a long while after that, neither woman spoke. Save for some directions from Robin, and a few hums, on Sumia’s end. Robin’s grip relinquished just a bit, and she let herself relax for a little, despite the harshly cold wind and air.

“I’ve been meaning to ask for a while…” After a short amount of time, as they glided over some green hills, Sumia spoke up.

“Hm?” Robin asked, not looking up from the path she was sketching in her book. If they managed to get through here, then it would only take a few hours to reach the city. But running into risen could mean a major setback they couldn’t afford. Robin chewed her lip and took another look down at the ground.

“I just…” Sumia trailed off, and Robin could feel her body tense.

“I guess I’ve been wondering how you… You know, one day you were in the barracks, and joining us, and Chrom said he’d found you in a field. An amnesiac. And everyone was really curious but we didn’t want to ask questions, y’know? Because that would be rude...” Robin went stiff for a moment. Of course, they were curious. It made absolute sense, but it didn’t make it any less anxiety-inducing. Because there wasn’t really a straight answer she could give.

“You want to know how much I remember?” Robin asked, looking up to find Sumia looking back at her, worrying her lip.

“O—Only if that’s okay! If it makes you uncomfortable…” She trailed off again, looking away. It wasn’t malicious, she didn’t have any bad intent. Robin could tell that much, so she relented with a smile.

“It’s okay.” She said, taking a deep breath and shutting her eyes as she let memories of that sunny afternoon a few months ago seep into every corner of her mind. Recalling the first things that she’d ever truly known.

“I remember waking up really… sore. Like my body was aching all over. My head hurt, and my muscles hurt but I could tell I wasn’t… hurt, hurt y’know? Maybe I’d been running or over-exhausted myself... I’d been turned over and was just... caked in mud. I could hear people talking, and when I opened my eyes and let them adjust I found Chrom and Lissa standing over me.” She could see the trees, and the light filtering through them. Chrom and Lissa’s faces, breaking into smiles as she roused that, even then, filled her heart with comfort.

“That must have been scary.” Hearing Sumia’s voice made Robin remember where she was, jolting a little as she looked down and breathed in. After a second she relaxed again, giving a soft laugh.

“It was confusing, more than anything,” She said, using her free hand to stash away her book and pen, before tiredly rubbing her forehead. Then she was back in that moment again, being pulled to her feet.

“Chrom helped me up, and I looked around and realized I didn’t know where I was. The cobbled road, and the green trees. I didn’t know them… but I knew Chrom.” It was absurd, even looking back. And Robin could tell Sumia thought the same, looking back with wide eyes.

“You knew Chrom?” Robin supposed the prince had left that bit out when talking about Robin to the Shephards. Sweet of him, but ultimately useless now that she’d gone ahead and told Sumia anyway.

“Yeah. It was strange and… really suspicious, but I knew his name before I even remembered mine.” More than suspicious. It should have been impossible. But she knew it nonetheless, only bringing about more questions on her end to her fuzzy past.

“That’s crazy!” Sumia exclaimed in awe and Robin gave her the slightest of smiles. No sudden doubt, no sudden hostility at that fact which, in Robin’s opinion, was damning to most in regards to viewing her as anything but a quiet threat.

“I know!” She laughed, remembering the shock on his face, fading to confusion, and then another bought of worry. But never wariness.

“But he was nice. And so was Lissa. I could tell they were worried about me. I was worried about me. And then all of a sudden I heard this really doubtful voice and…” Their faces flitted through Robin’s head before the images stopped. Freezing in time.

“Frederick?” Robin could see him now. A sharp handsome face, on a stiff, poised body. Standing only a little bit away from his lieges. Eying her with complete distrust and scepticism.

“He did not like me at all. He still doesn’t.” Robin hoped the disappointment in her voice was unnoticeable to Sumia. And how her whole demeanour seemed to soften for just a second before the pegasus rider spoke.

“He’s just… slow to trust. He’s a good man.” She knew that.

“I know that,” Almost indignantly Robin spoke up, as the snapshots of those moments gave away. Flipping through all the memories after that, and then… nothing.

Blank, black and fog. Not even distorted images, not even disembodied voices speaking unintelligible words. Just nothingness in a void, and dreams she couldn’t remember when she woke up.

“I understand why he’s hesitant. Everything about me is so suspicious. Nothing makes sense. I don’t make sense, even to me.” He was right to be wary. She was wary of herself. Her Plegian cloak, her abilities in magic. Who knew who she was. Who she might still be. She’d seen the cruelties of the Grimleal in person, their bone masks and the smell of blood made her skin crawl. If she even had a sliver of a connection to them...

“Are you okay, Robin?” Sumia’s voice cut through her thoughts, and Robin found herself holding her grip tighter than intended. Knuckles visibly losing blood with the sheer force behind it. Her stomach churned for a moment before it settled. She cleared her throat.

“Yeah, I’m just tired. It’s been a really long day… We should head back down anyway. It’s starting to get dark.” Even as they spoke the light was fading. Evening blues and purples seeping in over the mountains which got further and further away. In front of her, Sumia encouraged the Pegasus down, humming quietly as they began their descent.

“You know you can talk to me, right? And everyone else as well.” For a moment Robin's chest constricted. She thought back to Cordelia, questioning her wellbeing in the barracks, not an hour before. Chrom wiping the mud off of her face with careful hands when they first met. Lissa, healing her wounds after their first battle and… Frederick...

“I know. It’s like I said, I’m just… I’m tired.” Robin sighed, speaking pointedly and finally.

And that was the end of that. Complete silence fell between the two women as they continued their decline towards the same field they’d taken off from. Robin’s body still feeling as heavy as it had when they took off.

Chapter Text

When Robin returned from her flyover, she expected the village to be empty. Dismounting with Sumia in the field, the two walked back to the village entrance before parting ways, giving thanks and a goodbye she walked down the compressed dirt road.

A few people lingered the streets, sitting in chairs in front of doors, eyes resting on the setting sun behind her. Just simple people. Leading wonderfully simple lives, strong with each unique extraordinary character. Lives that Robin was curious about.

How was law handled out here? How often were they attacked, or defended? Did they all know each other? Did people always pass through? In every house there was a hearth and a family, even those solitary figures being invited by neighbours for dinner. It was such a small community, but Robin had never seen anything so tightly tied together by each other. Watching these people, for however short a time it may have been, she could feel a growing warm ache in her chest.

It was a figure catching Robin's eye that gave her stroll purpose. Lissa leaned against the door to the 'barracks' where Robin herself had spent most her day. And although it was getting dark, the torchlight on the outside of the cobbled walls let her see the young lady's eyes light up as they laid on her figure. A bundle of nerves wrapped themselves in Robin’s stomach. Something about the look in Lissa's eyes made her think back to the moment she'd awoken to her nostrils blocked by thin, cheeky fingers. Or found her belongings infested with frogs. But alas, the tactician had been spotted. It was too late to run now.

"Robin!" The girl called, waving her arm in a beckoning motion that Robin was loathe to ignore, especially in front of all the staring townspeople. With an embarrassed blush, she approached her friend, a few notebooks and knapsack in her hands.

"Hello, Lissa." Robin smiled as she came to a stop, eyes flickering from the girl briefly to look inside the unlit building. Despite the hustle and bustle when she’d left, if now seemed to be completely empty. Robin's brow furrowed, turning back to address Lissa.

"Why aren't you at dinner? Why are you out here?" Robin questioned curiously, catching the spark in Lissa's eyes before she pouted, giving Robin a long look.

"What, a girl can't wait for her friend to come back from— whatever you were doing?" She asked, prompting a small smile and an eye roll from Robin. She supposed she would have fallen for the diversion had she not known Lissa for this long.

"It was a flyover, just some tactics stuff— And don't try to change the subject, why are you standing in front of a dark, empty storeroom?" Robin questioned as Lissa let out an over-the-top groan, throwing her arms up dramatically.

"I'm being honest, I was waiting for you! You haven't eaten, and I wanted to check up on you!" Lissa said, and this time it was Robin’s turn to blush. Despite being at least a few years younger than Robin herself, Lissa seemed insistent on mothering her all the same. As she spoke, she took Robin's arm, an act of affection Robin all but leaned into, letting the girl lead her towards where the Shepherds had set up their eating tent. Around the corner and away from the main road, out in a field, not 5 minutes away.

It was peaceful. Bulbous lights hung along buildings, decorated for the Shepherds as if a festival were on. Summer crickets sang out, nearly drowning out the distant sounds of laughter getting louder and louder as they made their approach to the tent, the smell of roasted meats filling the air. As they walked arm in arm, Robin took a deep breath.

Her flyover had been tense, especially after her talk with Cordelia. Simply thinking about it left Robin's stomach reeling. She was sure Sumia's pegasus had sensed her discomfort, as did Sumia herself.

By the end of it all they both were utterly silent, Robin handing over the booklet for Sumia to take to Chrom and Sumia, again offering an ear to listen to any troubles Robin may have, before nervously retreating to go find Chrom. Robin sighed quietly, and for a moment she worried that Lissa had heard her before a hand cupped around her ear and Lissa leaned up to whisper, the sensation of sudden air giving her goosebumps, making her jump.

"I need to talk to you," Lissa said in hushed tones as they turned a corner around a farmhouse. The tent was in sight, covered on all sides save a gaping entrance where people spilled in and out. Soft lights like big orange fireflies hanging off of there as well, shepherds, soldiers and villagers alike walking around both inside and out. Robin stopped in her tracks, eyes training on Lissa sharply. The serious tone was not one she heard often from the girl and was unsettling, to say the least.

"Why?" Robin asked with a frown, Lissa coming to a stop as well. What could have made Lissa change her tone, and so suddenly? Had someone been spreading rumours about her? Robin’s background, her role? Had they found something out about her life from before she was found? Something she didn’t even know? Gripping the edge of her coat, Robin did her best not to rip the fabric as Lissa cast a glance to the tent, taking a deep breath before stepping towards the barn's shadow and opening her mouth to drop a crushing verbal bomb.

"Cordelia and Frederick were talking about you." She said in a low voice, and just like that Robin felt her heart drop. Going from beating her chest to breaking up her guts in seconds, stunning her into a short, wide-eyed silence. They had been talking? Cordelia and Frederick? About her? What did Cordelia tell him? What did Frederick know?

"What? What did they say?" Robin tried to look calm and keep her voice steady. Keyword tried as it raised an octave and broke anxiously and she nearly slipped while trying to lean against the wall. Lissa went to speak but bit her lip, making Robin feel even worse.

"Weeeell," She said, moving her hands in a rolling motion. "I'm not completely sure. I wasn't there." And Robin's heart hesitantly returned to its place, her shoulders slumping. Did Lissa really almost give her a heart attack over that?

"If you weren't there, how do you know they were talking about me?" Robin asked, her voice dull and doubtful as Lissa gave her an apologetic giggle.

"I mean— I'm pretty sure they were talking about you. You've been acting weird lately!" Robin wasn't sure how the two things were related but decided to drop it, playing dumb with a tilt of her head.

"Have I?" She asked, eyes flickering back to the tent. It occurred to her now that Frederick was likely in there, spiking up her heart rate. She wondered if she could figure out the quickest way to grab her food and see him, but not have to interact with him. Lissa cleared her throat.

"Yes," Lissa said, eyes following to the food tent, before snapping back to Robin. "Is something wrong?"

Robin's shoulders dropped, her gaze not meeting Lissa's eyes. Was she really so transparent that Lissa could see something was wrong as well? Fighting the urge to groan or deny it, Robin stayed silent, staring at the ground until a hand found its way to her shoulder.

"Look, I'm not saying you have to but... If you want to- Need to talk about it, Maribelle and I meet up every week or so to gossip and such. Sometimes the other girls come along! You'd be more than welcome!" Robin's heart warmed to hear these words, forcing herself to look up into Lissa's bright eyes. She gave a gentle smile.

"I'll... keep that in mind." Thrice, had this offer now been made. And with each time it seemed all the more appealing. To talk with friends freely, her without worry of judgement, them with an actual want to listen to her troubles... Robin's heart ached. Though she couldn't remember much, she was sure she hadn't had support like this before her life now. Such comfort was the kind she'd only dreamed of, and for her to reject it after having it so freely offered wouldn't just be rude, it would be cruel to herself.

Returning to Lissa's side, arms intertwining again, Robin let Lissa lead her to the food tent, feeling lighter on her feet at the simple thought of venting her strifes into the open air. Laughing with Lissa she lifted the tent flap, nodding to Virion, who flashed them a wink on his way out as they stepped into the warm structure.

It seemed that most had finished with their dinner. Tables lay mostly empty, save for Sully and Stahl who sat down the far end, definitely on their 3rd meal. Dishes and ladles on the main table lay stained and empty, and Robin felt her heart sink and her stomach grumble.

"You're hungry!" Lissa laughed, not even knowing the half of it. Thinking back, Robin had been so busy preparing for their next push that she'd forgotten breakfast and lunch. Ever since the attempt on Emmeryn's life, she'd taken extra measures. Spending more time on plans, working later. It wasn't healthy, but it was necessary if she was going to keep the Exalt alive.

"We really missed out on everything..." Robin said with a sigh as she looked over the mountain of empty pots, the remnants of soups, meats and bread caked on its sides. Lissa looked it over, her nose wrinkling.

"I think I have some cold rations..." Robin offered half-heartedly, moving her hand to her pocket before she was stopped by the sound of someone clearing their throat, directly behind her. Robin's blood ran cold.

She didn't need to turn around to see who it was, and she didn't want to. Frederick. As tall and looming as ever, cast a shadow over Robin, one that she was embarrassed to admit she had not noticed. She saw Lissa jump and turn, smiling wide at the knight, who no doubt had a solution to her food problems. More rations for Robin, she supposed, trying to look on the bright side.

"Frederick!" The joy-filled voice of Lissa reached Robin's ears just as her body began to move, putting so much energy into a simple turn. Robin knew she had to get over this tendency to freeze up. It was only causing more issues, and at the very least was just… Embarrassing. At eye-level with his chest, she felt the urge to form any more of a connection fade more and more by the second. Still... she wasn't about to just stare at his chest. That would just be creepy.

Raising her head a few inches was an effort worse than mustering a spell in the heat of battle, but Robin did it anyway, looking up and succumbing to the same sensation she always felt whenever she locked eyes with Frederick.

Oh, his eyes. Robin despised how they affected her so severely. Making her weak in the knees and short of breath. A wonderful, dark brown colour, like hot chocolate she'd once tasted while in the Ylissean capitol. They had a warmth that she both ached for and had never been shown. No, as always she was held in a gaze of steel, as cold as the lance he wielded. In search of a smile that she'd once seen him show Chrom as he landed yet another blow in training, Robin found herself staring at a hardened brow and a stiff upper lip from a face she wanted nothing more than to hold.

Naga, she sounded like a ditsy protagonist from one of Sumia's romance novels.

"Hello, Frederick." Her voice was steady as she gave him a smile that barely reached far enough to be counted as such. She was always so good at pretending whenever he was around. If only she could do as well with the girls. They were just far better attuned to this awareness of things she supposed. Beside her Lissa was fidgeting, tapping her arm, but Robin barely noticed. Now that she had her eyes on Frederick, it was hard to tear them away.

"How was the flyover? Successful?" It took 5 full seconds before Robin realized Frederick had addressed her. Business-like as ever, his tone conveyed no interest in Robin herself. Just on the terrain, and the tactics she had brought up. Robin did well to mask the hurt on her features.

"Yes, I think it’s good we’re waiting a day before making our next move. If we start tomorrow, we'll be boxing ourselves into a cliff area where at a time where Risen are most frequent. I expect that time is all we'll need before we head out. You can see Chrom for the full report." Robin explained plainly, placing her hands behind her back, mirroring Frederick. He nodded a few times as he listened, but didn't say anything. He couldn't with Lissa groaning so loudly.

"This is so boring, tell me you didn't just come here to talk battle." Lissa moaned, drawing Robin's attention and bringing a smile to her face. Frederick let out a long, tired sigh, breaking the eye-contact the Robin and he had held for so long.

"Milady, as the lieutenant of this army I have a responsibility to go over subjects like these with the army." He explained, already losing Lissa's attention as she rolled her eyes, settling on Robin, who grinned.

"Thank Naga you aren't in charge of anything here." Robin laughed, not even finishing before she had to avoid a finger jab towards her sides. Lissa pouted and crossed her arms.

"I would be an amazing lieutenant!" She said, not even making it halfway through the sentence before breaking into giggles from the mere idea of it. Robin opened her mouth for another dig towards Lissa when a soft laugh caught her attention and her heart.

Fredericks' laugh was one of her favourite sounds, as cheesy as it was. Short, and sparingly given, it was a blessing whenever she heard it, even when she knew it wasn't ever towards her. The tiny smile still on his face, eyebrow raised he stared at Lissa with a doubtful gaze.

"As you say, Milady." He said with a respectful nod, prompting Lissa to laugh even harder, sharing her smile with Frederick and Frederick alone.

A familiar feeling washed over Robin as she watched the two interact. Such warmth, such positivity. A friendly relationship built on trust and history, two things Robin didn't have. Just like that, she felt like an 'other'. Like she was watching the two through a window, or reading about their interaction in a book. There, but not actually with them. Never close enough. She took a step back, ready to take her leave.

"Robin, I nearly forgot." Frederick caught her before she could take another step, his hands moving from behind his back to his front, bringing with it two small containers. Her brow creased as she stared at them. Had he been holding that the entire time?

"I realized halfway through dinner that neither you, Sumia or Lissa had returned, so..." He hesitated for a second, turning his head and clearing his throat awkwardly, extending a box her way. Robin's eyes widened.

"I saved some food. Chrom took some for Sumia. Here." He held out a container to Robin, and she could feel her entire world shutting down around her. Frederick? Had done something nice? For her? Was the world going mad?

Doing her best to keep her hands from shaking, Robin took the box from his hands, cradling it like some treasure as she looked back up at Frederick, eyes still wide.

"Thank you." It was hard to miss the little shake in her voice as she pulled the box close, taking another step back. Frederick gave an awkward nod, Lissa giggling behind her hand. Robin's stomach flipped as she snapped out of it.

"I'm going to my tent." She stated rather loudly, giving a quick nod to the two, becoming all too aware of how she was standing and where her hands were and her surroundings, like she was becoming more inelegant by the second. She needed to retreat now.

“But you haven’t even had a chance to sit down, or talk to anyone!” Lissa exclaimed, but it was too late. Robin was backing up, like a bear cornered against a cliff. She wasn’t going to lash out or anything like that, but the fear and feeling was much the same. Damn, socialization was stressful.

"I’m just very tired. I’ll sit with you at breakfast tomorrow, I promise. Goodnight. Goodnight." She nodded to each of them again, before turning on her heel and walking out, faster and faster till she was out of the tent and the sight of everyone else and on a beeline for her own tent. She didn't stop or hesitate as she kept an eye out for anyone watching her go by, anxiety heightening with every step until finally, mercifully, she ducked under her tent flap, her bag of books dumped to the ground and her body flung towards her cot, face pressing into the nearest pillow.

Her tent was nice, but it was simple. A cot in the middle, with 2 blankets and 2 pillows, stark white. A trunk with nightclothes and nothing else. A portable, easily movable tent in the corner held a few pencils, quills and papers, 2 tactics books leant to her by Chrom, and a chair. That was it. There was nothing else, she had nothing else. Nothing from her past, nothing she could pick up from any towns from the near-nothing she had in terms of money in her pockets.

Without the army, her role here, she would have woken up alone, and likely died alone with nothing but fear and paranoia. She had people supporting her at her sides, so why did she still feel… nothing.

A frustrated scream left her as her fingers tightened around her gift, mind replaying the last few moments of her social interaction over and over again. Could she have been more awkward? More mortifying to watch? For the first time in the three months, she'd known him the man she had feelings for had done something nice for her.

And she froze up.

Spoke 3 sentences.

And then ran away.

Fingers nearly breaking from the tension she was placing on her muscles, Robin took the moment to feel the box pinned under her body. The food was still warm to the touch, she could feel it through whatever material Frederick had encased it in. It was strong, to resist the crushing force of her hands.

Taking deep breaths, Robin made herself relax for a moment, tried to clear her mind of everything that had happened today. Every conversation, with Cordelia, with Sumia, with Lissa. She let it pass. Relaxed her muscles and kept her eyes tightly shut until the only thing Robin could think of was the emptiness in her stomach. Carefully she pushed herself up from her bed and cracked the container open.

The smell of roast beef and vegetables filled Robin's tent, and her stomach growled in reaction, like a wild beast. She stood up and fumbled around her belongings for cutlery, brandishing a fork in victory when she found it, returning to her cot and ready to devour it. She stuck it in the meat, raising it to her mouth and ready to enjoy its full flavour—

And then her mind threw her back into the tent. Back where she stood under Fredericks stone-cold gaze, picking her apart. Back to where she stood, there but not really there as she watched him laugh with the people he cared about. Back to when Cordelia stared at her like a madwoman, for thinking about Frederick in that way.

She was right, though. Having feelings for Frederick was one of the worst tactical errors Robin had made. Stuck with an ever-aching heart, getting her hopes up on acts of the most basic act of kindness. Acts of pity, maybe? If Lissa was right, and he had talked to Cordelia maybe Frederick knew of her feelings? No. That couldn't be true. Cordelia would never do that. She was far too nice. But her heart still ached. Because regardless of whether he knew, Robin didn't doubt what Frederick had done was not of his own volition.

Robin's fork still hovered in front of her face, but any urge to eat had left her. Her stomach churned and twisted, nausea making an unwelcome appearance as she stressed herself into a mood. Hand lowering back into the container, Robin snapped it shut, placing it on her bedside table before burrowing herself into her cot.

She was too tired to feel anything else. Her stomach turned like a stormy sea but her mind simply blanked, the aching giving way to make her chest a cavity. Her utter aloneness in her plight made more aware as it closed around her like shadows in the night. Curling further and further into herself, all she could do was pray for sleep.

She was too empty for anything else.

Chapter Text

You wouldn't think that the Shepherds and, by extension, the entire army had all of their incredibly important, life-saving plans set back an entire day. Not just by looking at them, at the very least. All around the local area, they were spread, slacking off in their downtime. Many soldiers and shepherds alike hung around the village, helping the people with menial tasks, standing in and around the tavern telling stories, and lounging in the temporary barracks. On the street, some took to playing and laughing with young children and further out too, exploring the nearby forest, taking the time for walks through the trees or dips in the small nearby river. Even in camp, there was an air of relaxation.

Frederick found it entirely detestable.

With a decisive move of his hand, he sharpened his sword. One of the many weapons that he had been working on in the past hour as he prepared for the coming battle, grumbling as he heard people outside his tent laugh and chat.

No army should be worked to its bone, of course. And as cold-hearted as some people thought him, he couldn't deny that hearing his comrades so joyful brought him some level of happiness. But he also knew that there was a time and place for everything, and after 3 full days in the village, Frederick could not fight his anxiety when it came to the thought of leaving. They were at war, and at any moment the enemy could strike. And unprepared like they were now? The results could be catastrophic.

Taking a new blade into his hands —the lance now discarded— he repeated his work, trying not to let all his frustrations seep out as he tested the sword with a controlled swing.

Was he the only one who thought of the soldiers caught on the battlefield at this very instant, Plegian swords at their throats? Was he the only one who remembered what was at stake? How close had they all come to dying in the palace not long ago? How close were they to losing Emmeryn?

Memories of the assassination attempt flooded his mind, as a cold feeling crept it's way onto his skin, like ice through his veins. His sharpening faltered.

She'd looked so calm, even in the knowledge that she'd been condemned for death that night. Like the crickets outside the window, she was humming and standing peacefully in her room. Hands on her lap, grey eyes like a calm ocean right after a raging storm. Sitting like the castle wasn't being invaded that second. Like possible death wasn't a mere few hundred metres away. Frederick had positioned himself close by. Stood guard by the door, he did his best to keep Lissa and Chrom in his sight as they fought off Plegian after Plegian.

And they succeeded, in a manner of speaking. Emmeryn, thank Naga, was safe. From The Masked Man's appearance and the threat to the Exalt family to the recruiting of a Taguel woman and one of Emmeryn's would-be assassins. There wasn't much more to be said once the last of the enemies were picked off, and order was restored. Attempts to move her to a safer place were thwarted, and Emmeryn decided it would be better for her to return to Ylisse, leaving them with a promise from Chrom to keep the Fire Emblem safe.

He wished he could've done more, to have even just simply talked to her before they parted ways. A queen she was, but not superhuman. Looking at the same smile every day makes you familiar enough to know when it's forced. And Frederick had known her too long to ignore the turmoil behind her eyes, stirring in her mind as nightmare scenarios became worse and worse.

War. The horror she'd tried so desperately to prevent. Needless death, wanton destruction. It posed a risk to her legacy, her family. Her life.

Placing the sharpened blade in the finished pile, he took a deep breath and moved to the next.

Maybe these risks had been forgotten by the rest of the army. Maybe they did not take them seriously, or perhaps they just couldn't comprehend the severity of the situation. But that wouldn't mean he would slack or falter. No. He would be ready. If the others fell, he would be her army. If their weapons shattered, he would be her sword. Her lance. Her axe.

To keep Emmeryn safe, along with Chrom, and Lissa. The closest thing to family he had. He would give to get whatever they needed and become whatever to achieve their goals. He would be there for them, there with them.

He would be ready.

He would be, that is, if he was able to concentrate on his work. A goal that became less likely by the second as his ears caught a loud, repetitive thud of a blade, along with familiar grunts, originating right outside the tent wall.

Frederick could barely be angry. He was only minutes ago scolding his comrades in his head for not taking the time before the push over the mountains into Ferox to train. Someone seemed to be making the most of it.

They just didn't seem to be doing it well. Just the sound of their swings told him that whoever they were, they'd likely never held a sword before. And if they had, it was a miracle they weren't dead at the hands of the enemy by now.

Frederick's eyes moved from the small pile of weapons for sharpening left, then back to the figure through the thin layer of tarp before he sighed and stood up to brush down his clothes. He could get someone to finish with upkeep later. This person and their lack of ability was more important. If anything, he could use the training session he was already formulating for them in his head as a good outlet.

Throwing the tent flap open Frederick walked into the light, moving to walk around the tents circumference and confront the trainee. A new recruit was what he expected, or some young farm boy, sneaking out to the outskirts where camp met forest, trying his hand with a weapon in hopes of joining up before the army pushed forward. That was what he expected.

Not the army's very own tactician.

Frederick had to give her credit, it wasn't often he was caught off guard. And this was something she had certainly achieved. Coat and heavy cloth discarded, he found her in a linen shirt and rolled up trousers, hair and body slicked with sweat, shining in the heat, a bronze sword embedded in a nearby tree, her fingers still wrapped around its hilt.

"O—Oh, hello!" She greeted him with wide eyes, faltering in her movements as she stared, red in the face from her exertion. Frederick did not respond.

He was surprised, it was true. But only momentarily as his eyes fixed on the way she held her weapon. Limp, a loose grip that could be disarmed in a moment. She held the sword like one would hold a tome. Like she had no idea what she was doing.

"Training, Robin? I didn't take you for a warrior," It occurred to him momentarily that he had not greeted her, but she hardly seemed to notice as she turned back to the tree, pulling the sword free with some great struggle.

"Yeah, you-oof. You know, I thought it would be better to improve with my melee abilities." She explained, wiping sap off of the blade, not meeting his gaze. Fredericks' eyes narrowed. Why try her hand at a sword when she'd proven herself so capable with her spells? Why bother picking it up now, and so secretively?

"Why are you training out here then? Away from the others?" He asked with a raised brow. For a moment he saw her movements cease, and then relax as she stopped her cleaning of the sword, flashing him a small, awkward smile.

"I'm, uh... I don't want to look silly in front of... the others." She trailed off sheepishly. Frederick was taken aback. Look silly? What would looking silly have to do with training? He gave her a long stare.

"Robin, that is the least of your worries. Constructive criticism is important, especially with something like this. Would you rather run into battle unprepared, deluded about your skills with swordplay?" Robin flinched at the thought, eliciting a long sigh from Fredericks' lips. She made him do that often.

Still, he couldn't just leave her there with that awful training technique. With the way she was swinging that sword, Robin was putting herself in danger more than anyone else. Even if he didn't trust her, she was still the tactician. And he knew Chrom would never forgive him if something were to happen to her. Against his better thoughts, he found himself stepping forward, extending an arm to the sword.

"Allow me to assist." He said with another sigh. He'd done this a billion times with recruits. She would be no different. Swiftly he moved forward, ready to adjust her grip on the hilt. Completely unprepared for how defensive she suddenly got.

Retracting inwards, Robin took a step back, nearer to the treeline in a movement so quick it seemed natural to her. Holding the sword closer to her chest as Frederick stayed still, surprised once more by her strange behaviour.

"You want to help me?" Doubt was thickly layered in her voice, with eyes that watched him intently. He blinked for a moment, Deja Vu washing over him as he remembered a similar freeze up last night when he had offered her leftovers.

"Yes," He said slowly, feeling as if he were talking to some spooked animal. "You're our tactician. Keeping you alive means keeping everyone else alive." He explained, seeing an unrecognizable emotion flicker in her eyes. She gave it a few more seconds before relaxing, hesitantly holding her hand out to his.

Frederick took her wrist in one hand, and the hilt in the other as he moved her hand into a more comfortable position, nudging her fingers to the correct places as he spoke.

"Here, like this, you'll find it easier to swing." He told her, but she stayed silent. Tense again at his touch. He couldn't help but frown. Had he ever touched her before? Not likely, he was barely physically affectionate with his own family. Though he supposed the Royals were his exception.

Aware of how long his fingers had laid over hers, Frederick pulled back, discomfort settling in his stomach. The last thing he wanted was her getting any strange ideas, especially with how little he knew of her. Clearing his throat he gave a stiff nod.

"Swing." He told her, and she did, still silent, and still with an awkward stance. Yet the difference was obvious at a single glance, her actions more controlled now that she actually knew how to hold it.

Embedded once more in the tree, Robin let go of the sword and let out a soft cheer, her mood shooting to levels he didn't think possible in such short a time frame.

"I did it!" She laughed, eyes lit up with an excitement he only really saw around Lissa or Chrom. That happy lilt, compared to her quiet mumbles before. How anyone could change their mood so quickly was beyond him. It was strange. She was strange. And the moment she locked eyes with him it was gone, and she was averting her eyes again.

"Uh, thank you, Frederick. I... owe you one." She smiled weakly, but the thank you was sincere. Frederick simply hummed in response as once again she went to pull her sword out of the tree.

"It's nothing, truly." He responded as she broke the sword free, inspecting the edges.

"Though, next time I'd advise fighting against the straw dummies we have. Hitting that tree will do your sword no good, especially with a metal like that." He added as her cheeks flushed, looking back down at the blade for another inspection.

"Oh, thank you again," She said, wiping it off. Frederick had assumed she had finished, ready to turn away when her voice reached his ears once again.

"And— I do mean it, about owing you one. This, and dinner last night, and that one time you fixed my tent. I owe you a favour. Whatever you need, name it." She sounded confident, and Frederick could not help but find himself raising an eyebrow.

A favour? From her? Was this a distraction? A tactic to get closer to him, only to strike? She looked so genuine, but Frederick had served long enough to know the tricks of deceit. But a favour did mean getting something. Information, a trade. It was a tempting offer.

"I will keep that in mind, should the need arrive." He answered noncommittally, watching for any change in her expression. Nothing happened, however, as Robin gave another nod and sheathed her sword, earning a look from Frederick.

"Already finished?" Surely she was not already worn out? She looked fine, if a little sweaty, and had barely started before he'd intervened. Robin only shrugged in response.

"Chrom wants to spend some time training with me. Hence… this. And— Lissa, she uh— she wants me to spend time with her and the other girls," She said pausing to pick up her coat and other things. "You can check with her." She added on, no doubt reading his unimpressed expression.

Frederick was still not sure how to feel about his charges budding friendship with this... well, he could hardly call her a stranger any longer. But no matter. With the presence of the other women, especially Maribelle, he knows nothing bad should come of it, however...

Before he could even make a move to question her, Robin was off. Darting around the tent and out of his sight. But not quick enough to miss that relieved, happy smile on her face. A smile reserved for Chrom, Lissa, and every moment she was walking away from him.

And again, Frederick found himself alone. Outside his tent, away from his work and duties, doing exactly what he'd scolded the others in his mind about not minutes ago. Standing in a grass patch this time, with the laughter of soldiers and villagers alike dancing through the air. The sound of a distant creek running, and the birds singing freely as they flew.

Sounds and imagery that Frederick knew would seem far, far away once they crossed into their allied Feroxi territory. With Ylisse, it's people, and it's leader left far behind, out of his sight and out of his reach. He knew he was going where he could no longer protect them. He could only pray their tactician would get him there and back home, to the palace soon.

Chapter Text

This had to be the first day Robin had ever had that was actually free.

On most ‘break days’ she’d spend her time in her tent with some books, doing what she always did. This was the first time she’d been invited to do some actual hanging out during time off. Twice, in the same day, which she found utterly shocking.

“Chrom?” Robin called into the tent where he’d asked her to meet him. She knew it was technically time to be spent training, but she had a feeling that Chrom wanted to talk about something more than how well she could swing a sword.

Nevertheless, she’d woken up early to practise. Not that she got much time in before Frederick had shown up. It was nice to get some help and likely would have been nicer had she not been shaking in her boots the entire time.

“Ah, Robin!” Behind her Chrom's familiar voice sounded in her ears, and she turned to find him at the tent entrance, two practise swords in hand.

“Hey, Chrom.” She responded softly, looking to the swords as she spoke. Wooden, but sharp, they were likely the exact blade she should have been using during her embarrassing assault of the tree earlier.

“Did you want to talk about something? Or are we just training?” She asked, looking back up to the prince's face. Despite his strong stance and stature, Robin saw the shyness that often bubbled to the top whenever he talked to someone about anything other than battle. He was awkward, and she found kinship in that.

“Ah, well, you see it's both. Sort of.” Waiting patiently and happily as he chose his words carefully.

“Things have been tense, and I've been finding… difficult, to rest at times. But your presence is… calming in a way.” He explained to her, handing over the practise sword as he did. Robin, though puzzled, took it happily with a tilt of her head.

“You want to just train in… silence?” Robin asked as he brought a hand to his neck, rubbing it nervously.

“Well, when you put it like that…” He trailed off, clearly expecting her to start teasing or something. But she didn't, as laughter, soft and free of any malicious nature bubbled up within her.

“No, no, it's okay. I think some peace and quiet would… it would be nice. I've been talking to so many people lately.” She confessed, as Chrom's eyebrows raised.

“Tell me about it! Just yesterday night I was meant to simply receive a report from Sumia, but we just kept talking! Back and forth, I couldn't find a way out. And I- I didn't want a way out exactly, I just had no idea what to say without sounding foolish!” As they walked to what Robin assumed was going to be an open clearing or field, Chrom vented about his issues. Girl issues, not that he was able to identify them as such. He could be very… obtuse, when it came to it. Robin's mind flashed back to Cordelia for a moment, feeling a strong ache of sympathy for the poor woman.

“Maybe… you could think of things to talk about the next time you two meet?” Robin offered, knowing full well she was spouting advice she herself should follow. Would follow, were Frederick not completely opposed to her very presence in his vicinity.

“Like what? The weather? Risen? I'm not cut out for all of this… talk.” He grumbled, and Robin caught sight of an empty field with a few training dummies and no other people in sight. A grand relief in her eyes.

“Okay, well you can't just go all your life without talking to people. You're a royal.” Beside her, Chrom let out a loud sigh.

“I can try…” He grumbled, and Robin, though she tried everything, was unable to hide the sharp snort of laughter that escaped her, which in response made Chrom wheeze.

“Thank you for listening, Robin.” He said once they were finished giggling. Robin shrugged and gave him a half-smile. Listening… it was nice to not be the one talking for once. Chrom, he was so kind. And a good friend. And were she brave enough, and not so doubtful all the time she likely would have labelled him her best friend, in this army.

We're she a smarter woman, she would have fallen in love with him, maybe. But though she knew little, she knew the happy lift in her heart when she saw him smile could only be defined as the purest, and most affectionate of platonic love.

“It's no trouble. I really don't have anything better to do.” She confessed. Nothing better to do than read the same book over and over. Je quickly waved the dismissive statement off.

“Still, I appreciate it.” He said with a smile, as the two came to a stop. It was then they found themselves in the field. A few standing dummies scattered about, the sun at high-noon in the sky, giving them plenty of time to practise. Robin lifted her arms above her head and stretched.

“So… now we just hit some training dummies in total silence?” She asked, cocking a brow as their eyes locked for a few moments. Chrom sighing once again, this time in relief.

“Yes, please.”

And so, that was what they did. For hours, swinging their swords, clashing blades and at one point even breaking a dummy. Even as they ate, they were quiet. Until dinner, where Robin was pulled away by Lissa and said goodbye. They were quiet, and it was probably one of the most enjoyable things she'd ever done. Leaving towards the temporary girls' tent beaming, before the new conditions of socializing that she was now suddenly under sank in.

When Lissa first invited her over, Robin wasn't so sure what a girls night was, or at the very least what it would entail. Having no memory made it difficult to gauge how often she ever just simply... hung out, with people. Not training, not fighting. Actually spending extended periods of time in contact with other people. It was exciting, and also nerve-wracking.

Lissa and Maribelle, with all their tricks and their charms, had managed to commandeer a massive tent for which the small party could take place. The ground had been covered, all traces of grass concealed with the blankets and sheets which had been laid everywhere. A small tray of sweets lay tucked in the corner and all around the room, the nightgown-clad girls had draped themselves over piles and nests of pillows.

Lissa and Maribelle sat close together, Maribelle's fingers tracing through her friend's golden locks as she tested out new styles on her willing friend. Not too far away was Sumia, with a pile of colourfully covered books, currently being shared with an interested, if not cautious Panne. She regarded the books with some curiosity, much like how Miriel was regarding her, taking notes and quick glances as she wrote, and listened to Sully who was leaned against her, reading through her studies.

Robin herself was positioned near the entrance of the tent, where a warm summer breeze was floating in, ruffling her pyjama sleeves. At her side was Cordelia, who was doing her best to reassure Robin with kind smiles.

"Has your day been well, Robin?" She asked, shifting to face her, legs pulled up to her chest. Robin had never seen Cordelia so free of troubles, safe. No- thinking of it, she hadn't seen any of them so relaxed. Unbothered, and unburdened by the stresses of the war.

"Yes, a little different." She said, doing her best to loosen up a bit as well. They all seemed so comfortable together, leaning on one another and playing with hair. She couldn't even think of the last time she'd actually touched someone, or had them touch-

No.

No wait, she could.

Her brief encounter with Frederick earlier that day definitely counted. And it hadn't been anything short of 'different'. Not that he had seemed noticed. Or maybe he had? He had to have heard how hard her heart had been beating when his fingers made contact with her skin, trying to guide them to the right grip of on her blade. She knew he for sure had noticed the sharp way she'd pulled out of his reach the moment his hands made contact with her. Calloused, gentle contact-

Forgetting she had been in conversation mere seconds ago, Robin snapped back to reality. In the middle of trying to figure out if she'd already spoken, a smile tugged at Cordelia's lips, almost like she knew what had happened. But that was just silly. Right?

"Different? How so?" She questioned, and Robin paused for a moment, eyes flickering around the room. None of the girls seemed to be listening in.

"I trained with Chrom, it wasn't very noteworthy but…” She bit her lip, glancing around.

“Do you... remember what we talked about the other day?" Robin asked diplomatically. Cordelia's eyes flashed with instant recognition, as she nodded in response. Robin lowered her voice.

"Well, he ended up talking to me. Twice." It was strange to act so hushed and whispery, the setting making Robin feel like a giddy young girl at a secret sleepover. It wasn't a bad feeling.

"What about?" Cordelia had leant in, propping up her chin in her hands as she listened intently. A light blush made its way to Robin's cheeks, thinking back to the conversations. They weren't exactly models of human interaction.

"Well, first he saved me some leftovers, and then he gave me tips on my sword technique. I think it was the longest I'd ever talked to him, outside of tactics that is." Aloud, it hit her how lame that was. Cordelia didn't seem to think so, a warm smile on her face.

"Was it nice?" Robin's thoughts reached a standstill.

Was it nice?

On one hand, he had done something positive for her of his own volition, twice. She'd been able to see him, and not be glared at and scrutinized. Well- No, that wasn't true, he certainly had when on both occasions, but not the entire time. Which was a win she supposed?

But on the other, it had been incredibly awkward each time. She couldn't meet his eyes and had shut down completely when he'd reached for her. And she liked that kind of thing. Contact. Linking arms, and the likes. Even with friends. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.

"It was... strange," Robin concluded, close to continuing when Sully, who'd just seemed to catch onto her words, laughed.

"Never thought I'd find a day of peace during all this. 'Strange' is about right." She said, misunderstanding the context for Robin's comment. While Robin herself smiled at the cavalier, a contentious sigh exited Maribelle, who gazed at Sully with disdain.

"Sully, please. These meetings are for discussions other than war, or training. Heavens forbid we confer about something nice these days..." She sighed audibly, removing her hands from Lissa's hair, proud of the braids she had woven. Sully groaned and tipped her head back.

"What do you want us to do, Maribelle? Pretend we aren't facing death every day?" She shot back, as Maribelle's face turned a rich red.

"Of course not! I simply-"

"Ladies!" The sharp voice of Miriel cut through the argument, pointed and tinged with irritation.

"Perhaps we would be better suited to leaving such... vexing topics behind? It's impractical to begin such heated discussions at this time of night. Especially in front of such new company." Robin felt a sharp stab of anxiety all eyes turned to her. Maribelle cleared her throat.

"Ah... apologies, Robin. We meant you no discomfort." Robin, with her fingers tightly grasping the pink-patterned woollen blanket she'd been graciously gifted, offered a warm smile.

"No need to apologise, I don't mind." She responded, eyes flickering back to Cordelia, a sort of anchor in this unfamiliar setting. Cordelia, in turn, stared back with her own smile, the conversation moving on.

"It's okay if you do feel that way, Maribelle makes everyone uncomfortable." A cheeky smile pulled its way onto Sully's lips, one that Robin only caught a millisecond before a fluffy, embroidered pillow made swift contact with her face, eliciting a laugh from Lissa.

And just like that, the warm, jovial feeling in the room had returned. Even with Maribelle's sharp scolding, Robin herself couldn't help but hide the soft giggle that left her own lips as she watched her comrades.

"Are you happy to be here?" With her previous conversation topic effectively cut short, Cordelia opted to change the subject. It was likely the easiest thing Robin had ever answered.

"Yes." She said simply and firmly. It was no secret that Robin liked being isolated. Preferred it, even. But there was something about being around these people that made even she, who was so used to sticking to the shadows, happy to be involved in something.

"It's just... nice to be around everyone, I'm not just one the sidelines." She breathed out. Maybe she wasn't directly talking to everyone, but simply being there was nice. Nicer than sitting in her bed alone, crying over some leftovers.

"Do you still get lonely?" Cordelia asked, drawing back memories of their conversation a day prior. And, again, the leftovers. With reluctance, Robin nodded.

"Yes, but it's... easy to ignore. Like now." She said with a growing smile. She wished she could put it into words more effective than easy. That barely covered the difference in how she was feeling now compared to then. Cordelia went to answer, before pausing, her eyes flickering behind Robin as a warm expression grew on her face.

"Ah- Robin?" Hearing her name being called, Robin turned her head to find Sumia looking at her, a nervous expression on her face, and a few books in hand. She took a few seconds to comprehend the Pegasus Knight's question, before answering and shuffling herself a few metres over to the small collection of people and books.

"Oh! Y-Yes?" She nodded quickly, focusing on the assortment of volumes. There had to be at least 20 there. And from what she could see, the subjects were all the same. Covers depicted illustrations of young, fair maidens, all in different states of disarray, draping themselves over muscled, normally shirtless men, who held them tightly to their chest or over their shoulders. Robin could feel a blush rising to her cheeks.

"You like to read, right?" Sumia sounded so eager, that Robin only found herself able to nod in response. Panne lifted the book, looking at its title, before lending her eyes to the others in the pile.

"Hm... 'Ruby Desire' 'The Servant and The Consort' 'Illusion of Love'. You humans have strange taste..." Panne trailed off with a frown, dropping the book back down with a heavy sigh as Sumia failed to catch it. Robin wondered for a moment if she should defend humanity's wide range of book genres, but thought better of it. Before Sumia could defend her trove, another voice joined in.

"You're not trying to convert Robin into reading this twaddle, are you?" Cordelia's teasing tone piped up from behind Robin. She moved closer, her head craning over the tactician's shoulder to get a better look at the open page. Sumia huffed.

"You didn't say that when I leant you 'Requiem Requited' the other night." Sumia shot back with a smile. It was Cordelia's turn to blush as she turned her head, hiding her face from all the girls' views.

"What? 'The Sultry Empress and her Loyal Queen'. How can someone be an Empress, while married to a Queen? How utterly absurd-" Miriel had just begun to rant about one of the novels, when Robin found her eyes trailing to a particular cover, one that had done more than catch her eye.

The title was obscured, but it's cover wasn't. Unlike the others, the cover depicted two people, fully clothed. Standing outside in the rain, in a thickly canopied forest, a man in full armour stood rigid and tall, hand out in rejection of a tearful woman, wrapped in a cloak, looking in utter despair. It set no fire in her heart, nor did it spark any lurid images in her mind. No, if anything, Robin felt a tight twist in her chest.

"What's that one?" Robin asked with a tilted head, drawing Sumia's attention. The girls' fingers trailed over to the book, her eyes lighting up in recognition as a bright smile took her face.

"Hm? Oh! That's 'The Promise and The Lass'. It's a good one. Sad, but good." She retrieved the book with one hand, leaning over to press it into Robin's lap. Lifting it as gentle as a baby, Robin took a closer look at the artwork, mumbling as she stared.

"What's it about?" Delighted to have someone take such an interest, Sumia went right to explaining it, a glitter to her eyes.

"Oh, well there's this girl, and she's head over heels for this knight- He's the real strict type, y'know? Well, she falls in love with this knight and pursues him, but he's so attached to his job that he never notices her, so she decides to join the army to catch his attention but-" She cut herself off quickly, looking back up at Robin hesitantly.

"Should I spoil it?" She asked, testing the waters. Robin responded with a quick shake of her head, Sumia's excitement bleeding into her own emotions.

"No, I think I want to read this one." Robin said sincerely, before stumbling over her words "I-If you'd be okay with that?" Anxious to not overstep any boundaries. Not that there was any risk in the first place, with the way Sumia's entire being seemed to light up, and her hands grabbed at Robin's.

Warmth flooded her veins, up into her body, and Robin found herself in a position not dissimilar to a few hours prior when Frederick had taken her by the wrist. What he saw, she did not know, but what she felt was overwhelming. Like a healing spell, made to restart her heart with stutters. This time it was like the warmth of a fire or a hug. This time, it made Robin comfortable and on edge all at the same time. This time, she did not pull from the touch. Instead, her body locked up and tensed, taken off guard. Sumia didn't seem to notice.

"H-Have you read many of these books before, Cordelia?" Robin asked, trying to distract herself from how hyperaware she'd become about her body. Were her hands too sweaty? Was she being too weird? Was anyone noticing? Questions tumbled through her mind as she concentrated on Cordelia's voice.

"A few-" She started, looking over Robin's shoulder before Sumia interrupted her with a laugh.

"A few? You've read at least half the books here!" Robin could hear Cordelia's breath catch, leaning further over her shoulder, resting against her back.

"And you've read them all! Over and over, since we were teenagers!" Sumia's grip loosened so that her hands rested atop Robin's as, in the corner of her eye, she saw Lissa moving closer to look at the books.

Cordelia shot back her own retort, she and Sumia arguing playfully with Robin still seated between them. Though the situation was absurd, there was something oddly enjoyable about being able to continue talking while in such close, familiar conditions. For once, she felt could slot in with these girls- this group, easily.

"This is nice, right?" A hand tapped at Robin's thigh, and she turned her head and looked down to see Lissa, laid out across the pillows, flicking through a novel's pages absently. It seemed most everyone in the tent had come to take a look at Sumia's horde, bunching up close to look at the books with varying degrees of interest or distaste.

"It is." Robin conceded with a laugh, her new book laying snugly in her lap.

"So... you'll come along next time we do this?" A half smile pulled onto Lissa's lips. Robin already knew her answer.

"Of course, if I'm welcome." She said, earning a tsk from Maribelle. Before Robin would have worried she'd said something wrong, now she knew this was just how Maribelle was. Sumia's hands loosened their grip as she moved to grab some book Sully had pointed out, and Cordelia did the same, leaving Robin with her hands free, listening in to Maribelle's eloquent tone.

"Why wouldn't you be? Goodness, you really do overthink everything..." The noblewoman trailed off, hiding the hint of a smile as she spoke. Robin rubbed her arm awkwardly, giving a shrug.

"I don't know, I guess I just don't want to intrude." She admitted as Lissa gave her a confused smile.

"Intrude? You're our friend, you never do." Something about hearing that aloud sparked something in Robin's heart, a feeling of warmth not dissimilar to the one she'd felt before coursed through her body, bringing a shy, but bright smile to her face.

"Do you want to read through this book and place bets on how many gross kiss scenes there are?" Lissa asked, and Robin snorted, moving her eyes to the pages as she shifted to lay down beside her.

"Yes," Robin said, smiling at the sounds of her friends tittering and laughing around her. "I think I'd like that."

Chapter Text

The road to Regna Ferox was a gruelling one. After such a sweet pause and escape, many found it quite the shock to be walking, trekking through the snow and wilds with the urgency an army at war should have.

It was less difficult for Robin than her last- and first- journey. Back then she had been unprepared, nervous and new to this world and to herself. Now she had a support system in place, watching her steps and keeping her mind in check.

Offers of rides on horses or pegasi left her flustered. No matter how many times she insisted, the girls seemed set on helping or sharing in whatever way they could. That alone did much more to warm her core than any blanket or thick coat. Nevertheless, she would decline and often change the subject. They had more things to worry about than her.

In her spare time, she would read the book Sumia had leant her. What started out as a stereotypical love story had quickly turned into the most enrapturing thing Robin had ever laid her eyes on. The main character Gwendolyn was far more sympathetic than she likely should have been. And likewise, her love interest, Peter, and their story only did well to bring Robin's attention to her own lack-lustre love life. Dismissive, work-attentive and stern, it was no surprise that Robin found herself drawing comparisons.

Even so, she would much prefer to be sitting in her cot with a candle and the aforementioned romance novel, then walking through this hellish landscape. Biting cold and cutting ice meant that the army, however small they were, were being pushed to their limits. Robin was no exception.

No matter how many mounds of snow she kicked away, she seemed to be tripping and stumbling. She'd had Lissa laugh at her for falling forward into an icy creek already, having to have Frederick fish her out with a severe scolding for the two of them. Robin knew it was only a matter of time before things became worse, and they had several days ahead. She was lucky to find distractions where she could, conversation doing well to keep her mind active.

"I don't want to bother them," Robin explained to Lissa as the two women trailed a bit behind the horsemen. Chatting and smiling, Robin could not help but cast casual and not-so-casual glances forward to where Chrom and Frederick rode ahead, side by side. Lissa hadn't seemed to have noticed. At least, that's what Robin had thought up until she responded with a shrug.

"Fine, why don't you just do what I do- ask Frederick for a ride!" Somehow, her explanation as to why she'd refused rides from Sumia and Cordelia's had turned into this. Robin nearly choked on her spit, coughing from the shock. She had to be joking, right?

"I'm... not going to do that," Robin said, heat rising to her cheeks as she tried to look away from both Lissa and Frederick. Just in time, she manages to catch one cheeky smile, before Lissa returned to feigning ignorance.

"Why not?" The question is innocent, but the way Lissa drags out her vowels is not, spreading the flush of heat to both Robin's ears and neck. Oh no, she was not putting up with this right now. Not in this cold.

"Because I- He'd- I need to go." Robin spluttered, storming ahead a few paces, only realizing she was moving in the direction of the knight and his prince when it was too late.

"Robin?" Chrom's voice cut through the embarrassed rush of blood to Robin's ears, catching her attention as she looked up at her friend.

It wasn't often that Chrom was seen on horseback, but with the harsh weather and Fredericks fussing he had been all but chained to the back of his poor stallion. She wouldn't be surprised if the animal dropped dead on the way there.

"What are you doing up here?" He inquires, as Robin looked back with a huff, finding Lissa laughing and waving back at her.

"Lissa just wound me up..."She sighed, looking between the two before slowing down a bit. She looked rather out of place. She felt rather out of place, gods why did she always have to act before she thought outside battle? It was as if a flip was switched, the moment she had to become social.

"I'm sorry, I'm interrupting aren't I?" She said more than asked, narrowly avoiding tripping over a snowdrift. Frederick stared with a straight brow, opening his mouth to no doubt inform her that yes, she was being a bother. He's unable to get a word in before Chrom speaks up.

"Not at all. In fact, I think I could use your clear mind." He said with a gleaming grin, before leaning off his horse and offering a hand. Robin raised a brow, looking at the horse with a look that surpassed doubt. This would not end well.

"Chrom, I don't know if-" She began, cutting herself off when she saw the determined look in his eyes. There was no point arguing. He was far too stubborn for that. So, with a sigh she grabbed his arm, letting herself be pulled up.

Everything is fine, up until the part where she needs to gain her footing. If not for Chroms’ ridiculous strength, she's sure she would have fallen right off. Instead, her foot catches on one random part of the saddle, knocking her stomach first onto the beast. The speed his horse is moving at is a shock, and she could feel herself tipping back over the other side before Chrom pulled her fully up, an arm wrapping around her, keeping her on with a steady, awkward grip.

"Shit, crap-!" She swore, fully aware that Frederick had just witnessed the utterly unladylike display, and fully aware of the influence Sully's language seemed to be having on her. Chrom laughed his head off, trying to help her shift while controlling his steed, but it was a difficult job. Gods, why did this always happen when Frederick was around?

With a face burning red, Robin adjusted herself so that she was holding onto Chrom, arms around his middle and face against his shirt. She could feel Frederick's eyes boring into her as she groaned, letting out the slightest laugh as she did.

"That was, uh..." Chrom started, before she hit his shoulder lightly, pulling her hood up and over her head to block out the snow, the noise and the people. She wanted to curl up back in her tent and hide, feeling Chrom's body begin to shake from withheld laughter.

"Shut up." She grumbled, but it's hard to keep the amusement out of her voice as Chrom burst out laughing, moving a hand back to awkwardly pat what he intended to be her shoulder, and end intended up being her face. Even she cannot hold her laughter in now. And the thought of people staring fades from her mind, for just a moment.

She thinks this is the longest she's gone in company without overthinking things. That's just how it was with Chrom, who trusted her so freely and offered no judgement. But not even Chroms’ near foolhardy trust was enough to shake the prickling anxiety in her stomach lining.

Her moment of brief amusement lifted as a quick glance behind her confirms that, yes, more people were indeed staring at her. And judging by the laughing and whispering, she'd not done well in presenting herself as a figure of grace. Let alone their gracious prince, who was already rattling off his rather dangerous battle plans and suggestions, in an effort to change the subject no doubt. Robin steals a glance to Frederick, finding his stony gaze settled on Chrom as he talks. She has no proof of it, but from experience, she knows he had been staring at her. Likely with the same expression he carried whenever he scolds the royals or his trainees, or when he's looking at her in general.

Robin makes a note to be quieter about these things from now on, lest she bring down her friends with her daft social nature.

And that worked for the last few days of the journey, certainly. The colder it got, the less she found herself having the energy to speak and argue. It was fair to think that, wherever she had hailed from before her amnesia, it had been warm. Warm enough that her clothes had been suitable, for they were certainly nothing of the sort here.

One look at her cloak, purple and embroidered, would make one assume it was more than enough to fight the Feroxian cold. Wearing it meant Robin knew better. Loose, with no pins or buttons to clip down, cold wind flowed freely in and out, nipping at her cold frame through her thin tank top. But she saw her comrades walk freely in clothes more revealing and open than that, with ne'er a complaint. So she held her tongue and kept her mouth shut until finally, mercifully, they arrived.

"We made it." Travelling ahead a few meters from the party, Robin had simply wanted time to clear her head. Travelling off the path, into the forest wasn't entirely intelligent, but she needed peace. And besides, she could still hear the army in the distance.

She'd known they'd be reaching the city today, but nothing could prepare her for what she finally saw. The bleak stone walls of the city warmed Robin more than her measly army tent had in its 4 days of travels. Her knees nearly gave out in relief when she spotted it, gate and soldiers at the ready. She hoped it would be a warmer welcome than what they received last time.

Leaning against a nearby tree to regain her strength, Robin laughed. Finally, she could be back inside a real building, eat proper food and sleep in a proper bed. The happiness inside her was unbearable as she swivelled around, ready to call out to Lissa or Cordelia, or whoever it was that she could hear approaching behind her. But of course, it's neither of those people. The fates seem to be set on her embarrassing herself today.

"I see we've arrived," Frederick commented with some amusement, armour clinking as he walks up beside Robin, keeping his eyes on the city. She had not talked to him or even seen him since what happened with Chrom and his horse. Strange indeed, seeing how set he always was on keeping an eye on her.

Silence hung between them, Robin herself unsure of what to say. She just kept her eyes on the city, feeling a shiver up her spine when he cleared his throat.

"I've been meaning to ask..." He trailed off, and Robin spared a glance in his direction. She meets his eyes, finding hesitance in place of doubt. Hands behind his back that she can see now are clearly fidgeting. It's like he wants to say something but thinks better. Robin raised an eyebrow, and he lets out a sigh, struggling for a moment before finally speaking.

"Robin, what on earth are you wearing?" Her face blanched, and she blinked. Once, then twice.

"My... my clothes?" She frowned and looked down. Of course. Of course, there was an issue with her clothes. Is it how awful they look, covered in snow and dirty water? How tatty and uncouth they were? How tidy they weren't? Robin resigned herself to whatever criticisms he had. She lacked the energy to argue and readied herself for a flurry of complaints. 'Your lack of decorum is showing.' 'You must present yourself better.' 'As the armies tactician-'

"They're hardly suitable for this weather. You look cold." With furrowed brows, Frederick spoke, and Robin felt her heart stop.

Oh. She felt a quick rush of blood to her cheeks. Was... no, he couldn't be worried. She brushed herself down, fiddling with some of the many loose threads that littered her coat.

"I mean- I don't have much choice?" She told him, and he gave her another frown with the slightest hint of concern. It's strange to be viewed like this by him, but certainly not unpleasant. In fact, it alights the smallest spark inside her chest.

"Pardon?" His nose crinkles, and Robin takes a moment to appreciate how cute it looks. How cute he always looks, honestly, when he gets that distant expression off his face. It's a shame she has to spoil it with her following words.

"I don't- I don't have anything, Frederick. Just the things you found me with." It's embarrassing to Robin, seeing the look of utter horror that spreads on Fredericks' face. Almost like he forgot for a moment that she was a dirty, homeless amnesiac. She was sure it was all flooding back to him now, as he went quiet and looked her up and down.

"No warm clothes at all?" He asked, and she shook her head with a grim smile.

"Nothing. I basically own absolutely nothing." Robin responded, and she watched as Frederick brought a hand to thread in his hair. It's very attractive and very amusing. She'd never seen him in such a stressed state and didn't know to be happy or apologetic that she was its cause.

"You mean to tell me you travelled this entire way in- that." He spat a final word and Robin raises her arms and shrugs, leaving him to stand silently as a number of emotions battled themselves inside his mind.

This was the longest conversation she's ever had with him, she thinks. The longest with her responding with sentences more than 3 words long. And with him not glaring or acting begrudging with her. Was this an achievement? She thinks this is an achievement. She'll take it, for sure.

Frederick was still standing there, a hand on his chin as he stared. Snow building on his shoulders and armour, ice probably crushing up its joints. She has no idea if she's supposed to be speaking, or what she's supposed to be saying. Instead she just... stands there too. In silence, with the sound of the army marching in the distance. Frederick once again cleared his throat.

"This an... oversight. I'll see what I can do to rectify it." That... was unexpected. Eyes widening at the offer. It was sweet, and it made her heart race but under no circumstances could she accept.

"I wouldn't want anyone wasting money on that." Frederick gives her the front-facing equivalent of a side-eye, before letting her comment go in favour of explanation. It doesn't do well to lessen the fluttering feeling in her stomach.

"I have some wool, I could make you garments in my spare time." Oh. Oh, now she knew she was blushing, and she couldn't stop. She couldn't care. He wanted to make clothes for her? Himself? Because... because he was worried? Her stomach turned flips, her palms going sweaty, somehow she could feel herself burning up in this bitter cold.

"Oh- gosh no, Frederick, you don't need to do that." She tried to argue, but even she doesn't want to. If he offered it couldn't mean he'd think it a bother, right? She tries so hard not to implode on the spot as she sees it- faint, but there. The very slightest of smiles quirking at the corner of his mouth, setting her heart ablaze.

"I must insist." He says, making her knees feel weak. It's such a romantic offer, and so kind. Gods, it's almost like it's come right out of her romance-

"We cannot let our tactician get ill. The lives of many lie on your shoulders, including my wards. You cannot afford to get sick." Fredericks smile is gone, taking on a serious expression as he discusses what is, of course, the most important thing to him. Ylisse.

"Of... course." Ah. There it was. The disappearance of all the giddy happiness she'd cherished at that moment. Robin visibly deflated. That was what she got for hoping. For tricking herself into believing that he'd actually-

"Thank you, Frederick." She smiles and nods, but it's forced.

"I should be making my way back to Chrom." He said, stepping back a moment before pausing. It took her a moment to realize he was waiting for her to follow.

"Oh, no," Robin shook her head, running a hand through her hair, pulling out some quickly melting snowflakes. "I just need a moment to myself." He's hesitant but respects her decision, and Robin smiles and waves him off. He gives her one last nod and then, that's it. He's simply gone. As quietly as he'd arrived.

Once sure of his absence, Robin shuts her eyes, taking a deep breath. And then another, and another, before turning and slammed her forehead into the nearest tree.

Why?

Slam

Why?

Slam

Why did it have to be him? Why did he have to be so difficult? Why was she so bad at- this. All of this. Absolutely everything. Robin knocked her face one more time into the tree before groaning at a volume that could have disturbed even the deafest of birds.

The cold was starting to seep in again, and the shouts were getting louder. And the last thing she needed was to continue her assault, which would only create a need to explain to her friends and dearest comrades why she had a bleeding forehead stuck with bits of bark.

She could lament this travesty of a social interaction later, in the privacy of a warm room with her books. Rubbing her head and looking back at the trail Frederick had made, Robin sighed. Naga, honestly.

How could this day get any worse?

Chapter Text

Getting inside the city was easy. The guards, far friendlier than they had been on their first visit, ushered Robin and the rest of the shepherds in. Up the streets, most of the army stopped off at the large barracks, where food and beds were being laid out for the night. It was rest well earned, but not rest available to Robin or her friends. No, they were needed by the Khans.

“How can they stand this cold…” Robin mumbled, looking around the Feroxian civilians that filled the streets. Snow was so thick in the air she could barely see the sun, let alone tell what time it was. Anywhere close to afternoon maybe, she surmised by the time they’d spent on the road.

“I would assume they’d be resistant, considering they likely grew up here.” From her side, Frederick commented, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. Robin’s cheeks burned, and it wasn’t due to the cold.

“Maybe we could get some warmer clothes while we’re stationed here,” Stahl muttered from her right, kicking at a snowdrift half in his way. That wasn’t a bad idea.

“After we convene with the Khans. I’m sure you can endure the cold a little longer.” Frederick lightly scolded the two, before walking ahead to keep up with Chrom, some meters ahead. Stahl let out a long, heavy sigh.

“Easy for him to say, huh?” He joked, sending Robin a smile, which she returned.

Not too long after, they finally reached the arena where they’d first fought on behalf of Flavia, winning her leadership of her country. Though months ago, the giant colosseum seemed completely unchanged.

Largely, Robin was distracted. Maybe it was the exhaustion or the cold, but even as Lissa and Chrom talked with Sumia, Robin found herself trailing around the arena’s edges, looking into the gates and openings. Seeing these entrances where all manner of gladiator or beast came out made her skin crawl. From bears to wyvern, she could only imagine the kind of blood that had been shed here. And her imagination was more than enough.

Her eyes moved on and went flickering around to stare at the empty stands. Before she’d seen them stacked with person after person making up swathes of roaring crows. Somehow, the space seemed smaller, without all the noise. The shouting and clanging of blade on blade.

“Ow! What the hell was that for?!” A sudden shout caught her attention, snapping her out of her trance. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Sumia landing a punch on Chrom’s face, sending him stumbling backwards a few steps. It seemed she wasn’t the only one who wasn’t quite on the ball today.

“Oh, no- Did I do it wrong? Captain Phila said sometimes a good slap will break someone out of their doldrums!” Watching Sumia’s hands raise to her chest, Robin lifted her hand to her mouth to cover a rising bout of laughter.

“Sumia, when you slap someone you do it with an open palm. You just punched Chrom in the face!” Chrom, who was still rubbing his cheek, hummed in agreement with his sister.

“Gods, that seriously hurt…” He mumbled, but as she approached Robin could have sworn she saw the corners of his mouth turn up a little. Almost like he was impressed.

“Oh, well… it’s the thought that counts?” Sumia tried, as Robin walked up to stand at her side. They all looked half ready to continue the almost-bickering when nearby the doors opened, and the small group turned to see Khan Flavia walk in, a big smile on her face.

“I hope you have good news.” Chrom greeted the Khan as she walked forward, he offering his hand.

Flavia looked much the same. Tall, muscled and as threatening as she was beautiful. Fully armoured with a sword in hand, she met Chrom with a hard clap on the back. He was getting hit a lot today, huh.

“If you call an entirely mobilized army on your side, itching to fight and ready for you order good news, then yes.” Flavia wasted no time beating around the bush. “I must say I’m looking forward to saving a skirmish or two for myself.”

“Wait, you’re coming along?” With a hint of concern, Chrom spoke, Robin herself feeling her eyebrows raise. As much of a threat as Plegia was, surely the Feroxians needed their Khan? Now, in times of overseas turmoil more than anything.

“Of course! A khan must have her fun. I’m even bringing my insignificant other.” Basilio too? Were Robin a braver woman she would have questioned the choice to take two leaders from their country into a foreign battle. But she was not.

“Really? Are you not worried about what would happen, were you two to…” Fall in battle, Chrom was likely about to say (hypocritically), but he was interrupted by her sharp bought of laughter.

“I assure you we have no intentions of dying yet. You underestimate our strength, prince Chrom. You’ll have our support as we walk to Ylisstol, and then further on at the borders. We can fight from there.” Her words were strong, as was her will, but they did not do well to shake the uneasiness that had settled in Robin’s stomach. Grimleal were nasty. And there was no telling what could happen out there. Still, Flavia was confident. Something Robin herself was not.

“Come, we’ll walk to the palace. When I left Basilio was receiving news of the Plegian movements. From there, I’m sure your tactician can form us a plan.” Robin’s back stiffened, standing to full attention as she recognised the eyes on her.

“I- I’ll do my absolute best!” She promised, cringing a little at how juvenile she sounded. It was enough for the group, as they started on their way out, no doubt to the palace, where Basilio likely awaited them.

Walking out they reconvened with the other shepherds, who had stood outside keeping guard. Frederick stayed to the door, only stepping away to shadow his lieges. There was no doubt in Robin's mind that he’d waited. Completely still and patient. Walking near the back with Cordelia, she found her eyes continued to linger on his back.

“The Feroxi army…” Cordelia murmured under her breath beside her, and Robin cast her a sad smile. Had they managed to get this kind of support earlier, things likely would have been easier. And it did not take a genius to know that Cordelia’s mind was lingering on the Pegasus Knights lost the day she and Robin met.

“I’m sure we’ll be able to finish this with them at our side.” The woman brightened, but it was too quick to be genuine. Robin nearly reached a hand out. The intent to rest on her shoulder or take hers but she simply could not. What comfort could she offer? None was the answer. Not with her empathy skills, anyway.

Robin doesn’t say a word as they walk up the steps to the palace, listening to the chitter chatter of the Shepherds, both shouting and whispering as they walked. A bit raucous to say the least, but it was understandable.

It’s a short walk, at the very least. Meeting solemn soldiers at the entrance, walking through the halls with high ceilings. Where Ylisse was like a cathedral, Ferox was like a warm barracks. Simple but still grand and wide, with wooden hallways and carved stone for its floors. Flavia lead them on, Robin struggling to both gawk at her surroundings and keep up.

It’s a little further before they’re in the doors, Robin’s speed letting her catch up to walk alongside Chrom and Lissa, through the doors and into the main throne room.

Wide, stone and carpeted, it was certainly a sight to behold. Braziers lit the edges, with some tables and chairs in the corners. It was not empty by any means. No, there were servants bustling around with trays and chair covers, some guards at some doors and Basilio himself, in the centre of the room talking with a scout, a creased brow on both their faces.

Something about the energy in the room was almost… manic. Off. And as the group approached, each one of the walking in the room, Robin felt her anxieties begin to rise. They do not falter when Basilio looks up, eyepatch and all, with both relief and worry in his eyes.

“Chrom! Gods, I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” He stepped away from the scout, and as they came to a stop Robin could see the concern carved into his face. Chrom went rigid beside her, before stepping forward, speaking.

“Is something wrong?” Robin began to think, looking between Basilio, the scouts and the servants whispering in the back corner of the room. Perhaps a town had been skirmished by Grimleal, or a segment of knights like Cordelia's had been cut down in battle? Robin’s mind ran through the scenario, as with the growing tension, her palms became warm as sweaty.

“Our scouts have reported back. It’s…” He trails off, and Chrom takes another step forward, Lissa a step behind him. Both look tensely wound.

“It’s what?” He demands more than asks, as Lissa’s eyes flickered back to lock with Robin’s before both women looked back to Basilio. The room was quiet, so quiet Robin could hear the blood in her ears. The nervous shuffling of feet behind her, and the snippets of whispers from servant to guard, and shepherd to shepherd. Basilio swallowed, looking between the two royals.

“Ylisstol… has fallen.”

Somehow, the room falls more silent than before. Crushing silence, silence that ripped and invaded and killed.

3 words.

3 words are spoken. And after their initial shock, Robin can only look back and forth around the group as they destroy the shepherds. Disbelieving whispers, pained moans and gasps swept through them, filling the air with their with rising levels of distress.

Footsteps faltering, quiet sobs. Robin felt her entire being go distant as Basilio's words echoed through her head. Over and over and over again. Stabbing at her chest like a sharpened knife.

Ylisstol. Gone.

Chrom's voice spoke up, but in her numbness, Robin registered none of his words. Snippets passed through her mind as she stared down at the purple carpet, fingers shaking. Was this her fault somehow? Had her plans led them wrong?

It had been going so well. The Feroxi were mobilized, Khan Flavia was itching to fight at their sides. They'd made good time, Emmeryn had Phila for protection, so how could…

“The Plegians captured your exalt and took her back across their lines.” The next blow comes as they’re down, and it leaves Robin physically reeling. Her head close to spinning.

Emmeryn. Kidnapped. Border. Plegia. Some words caught in Robin's mind as she lurched, eyes fixed on Lissa and Chrom's faces, ivory white with horror, tears filling the princess's eyes, as they did her own. They'd been laughing not hours before, minutes before. Proud and ready to battle for their home and their sister.

‘Executed’ is the next thing out of Basilio's mouth that she hears, and suddenly the mornings' breakfast rises in her throat. Publically, no doubt. Her skin crawled, world blurring as the weight of what Emmeryn’s death would mean.

Robin is close to vomiting there and then, but Lissa's stumbling form catches her off guard. She has to lunge to grab her friend before she hits the ground, arms wrapping around her middle to stop a collision with the hard cobble ground.

“Lissa!” Holding Lissa as firm and steady as she could, Robin was powerless to do anything. Say, anything that could comfort her friend as she sobbed.

Around her as well he could see the other shepherds. Leaning against walls and pillars for support. Stahl with his hand out, looking for support from Sully. Donnel looking to Maribelle and Ricken, both looking just as physically sick. And Frederick…

Looking over, Robin found him to the side, against the wall. Frederick looked blank. Not stoic, or stern. But blank. Disbelieving. A hand resting stressfully in his tousled brown hair.

In her chest, Robin could feel her heart cracking, breaking, and her mind whirring.

“It's a trap.” You'd have to be a fool not to recognise it. Basilio commented in agreement. No doubt, were they to go to Emmeryn now, they'd all be slaughtered in some manner of assault or ambush. They needed to be careful. They needed to stop and think before risking any more atrocities.

“We-”

“Are marching to Plegia.” Chrom cut Robin off, silencing his tactician through sheer shock and horror. He couldn't be… no. No, he was serious. He had that look in his eye.

“Well, that's one option but-”

“I don't care if it's a trap, Basilio, he's going to murder my sister!” With Chrom's harsh words came the harsher, cutting reality. Murder. A war crime. That was what this was. What would be remembered in the history books, if they did not stop it.

“Peace, Chrom. No one's saying we shouldn't act. We're saying we should act wisely,” Flavia interjected sternly, stabbing her sword at the ground. A serious look painted her face, as she locked eyes with Robin for the second time that day.

“We’ll need guts and wits in equal measure if we’re to save your sister.” Hesitant as she was, Robin nodded, and with an arm still around Lissa, she took a step towards Chrom.

“The Khans are right,” She said softly, reaching out to rest a hand on his shoulder. A lump was forming in her throat. “I…” She began, looking to the ground before taking a deep breath.

“I’ll think of something, Chrom. I promise.” Robin said, not so sure about how confident she was in those words herself. She’d thought on her feet a thousand times before. In the canyon where they met Cordelia, the night of Emmeryn’s assassination. Even back in the village the day she first woke up. But that was when the adrenaline was pumping her blood and body to the limit. Not when she was a state of grief and despair.

“All right, Robin…” Chrom said, looking to her as he spoke. A pit beginning to form in her stomach as he agreed. “I’ll leave formulating a plan up to you.”

Just like that he’d agreed. Because she’d been so sudden to offer. As the nerves begin to rip at her insides, Flavia addresses her in full.

“Are you certain you’re up to the task, Robin? It won’t be easy. You hold the Exalt’s life in one hand, and all ours in the other.” No, she wants to answer. She wants to tell them how sure she is that she isn’t ready, to have so much possible blood on her hands. She wanted to say ‘I don’t know’ at the very least. Sure, she could plan. Maybe most days that was all she was good for, but this…

Her eyes flickered over to the shepherds. Sumia, leaning against Cordelia as the two friends watched for her answer. Her close friends. She looked at Donnel and Ricken, Sully, Stahl, Vaike. Maribelle and Panne, Miriel and even Lon’qu. Her eyes finally, painfully resting on Frederick. Finding that same blank expression, locking eyes with an intense, fierya glare. Her stomach steeling, she looked back to Flavia.

“A responsibility I do not take lightly,” She said, taking in a deep breath, straightening out her back. “But I am equal to the challenge.” She stated, ignoring the doubt at the back of her mind that grated at her every word. Her shoulders dropped when she heard Flavia’s bark of a laugh.

“Ha! You’ve got stone, at least. I like that!” ‘Thank you?’ Robin nearly answered, but thought better of it.

“No hesitation, no mincing of words… She’s either a genius or a fool.” Oh, fool. She was a fool alright, but any tactician had to be to choose the job by which they defined themselves.

“I suppose we’ll find out when we march.” Walking over to Robin, he gave her a slap on the back that nearly knocked the wind out of her.

“Hold onto your tassets, Ylisseans.” He shouted to the melancholy group. “We’ve an Exalt to save!”

With that, the meeting was over. The Khans insisting for the group to rest. Each shepherd was allotted their own private room. Many of them opting to stay with each other in some cases. The shock and exhaustion still washing over them. Tears dried and wet still staining their faces as one by one they slipped away, all unsure of what exactly they could say.

The room gifted to Frederick by the Khan of Regna Ferox was a fine one indeed. With rich red curtains and beds laid with thick woollen sheets, this room and the others that were briefly lending themselves to the temporary aid were sure to leave the group well rested, under the assumption that this would be a night where they could get any rest at all.

It is a shame, in Fredericks mind, that he can scarcely remember how such a room came within his possession. Well- Remember he could, the matter of making sense of the past few hours? Of coping with its cruel revelations?

That was another story entirely.

He remembers travelling with his lieges through the snow and the long walk to Regna Ferox. He remembers talking with Lissa about the horror of facing another dinner with bear meat, planning with Chrom over where to move next after reaching the Khan's city. He'd been worrying himself over the smallest details of everything. The horses, the growing time it was taking for them to arrive in the allied country, he’d even found himself worrying over Robin’s attire. Such small details had seemed so big, all those hours ago.

Flashing images in his mind made from an all too vibrant imagination clashed with pain. Pain in his chest, sharp like a serrated edge to a blade. Pain stronger, more virulent and mind-numbing than any attack, physical or magical, could ever manage.

How could this happen?

How did he get here?

Why?

Why?

After such a long and gruelling trek into the country, Frederick found himself happy to be met with the intimidating, bleak stone walls of Regna Ferox. High and mighty, towering over the half-frozen group, the could have been made from the wood of the sweetest, friendliest looking cottage, for that was all the exhausted group of Ylissians saw.

The chill was not something that affected him badly, unlike some of his less fortunately clothed allies. No, it was anxiety more than anything that drew him towards the palace gates after the brief meeting in the arena. The guards who stood in their solemn duty went to strict attention at the fast approach of his lord.

"They certainly look happy to see us," Chrom had commented to the knight, who bore the words no mind. He'd served long enough to recognise a grim situation. Blood pounding in his ears, the anticipation for fresh news overtook the knight.

Not that the anticipation prepared him for what was to unfold in that throne room.

In the room that the Khan had so graciously given him for the night, Frederick thought he could find solace, but it was not so. Rather the quiet was deafening and deadly. Feeling dragged down, sluggish almost. His armour, though removed from his body, does nothing to lift the crushing weight upon his ribs. Ripping into him like a wild animal, and it reminds him of a time in his childhood he would much prefer to forget. On both sides of his walls, up and down the hallway lined doors were the rooms that held his fellow Shepherds.

His hands rested on the stone windowsill with an eerie stillness, white with the tight grip he has on the carved rock. His eyes focusing past the window, looking further than the snow-capped roofs of the homes outside. From behind him, vaguely, he hears the slow, creaking opening of a door.

"I'm sorry, Chrom." Flavia spoke with a deep sincerity that Frederick was reluctant to say shook him to his very core. Outside the throne room, the news had just hit. Everyone was standing in the foyer, spread out and silent, a pin could have been heard, dropping down the stone staircase like the hearts of all those who stood beside him. For this information could not be right- there had to be some mistake.

"Ylisse..." Lissa murmured, stepping back for a moment as Maribelle surged forward to hold her arm, pain painted across the noble's own face. Frederick, in the face of the news of the destruction, stayed still. Like the statue of a solemn athlete, the inner workings of which could not be determined, by even the most perceptive of people. No. Frederick stayed steadfast, as he always must.

The knight bears no mind to the sound of an opening door just behind him. A maid, a servant. A person who did not come before his current thoughts, before his bitter mourning.

Ylisse stormed, destroyed. Many of its people slaughtered by the Plegian army. Fire in the streets and blood on the roads, Frederick can imagine it all too viscerally. All so detailed, gruesome and well.

The Exalt. His Exalt, gone. Taken by the Mad King himself.

And what was he doing? Enjoying the quiet leisure of a peaceful village, hundreds of miles away from the people who needed him most. The burning buildings, the dead that likely lay in the streets. The thought was enough to send his stomach lurching.

“Are you okay?” Lurching, and then diving, as he is brought out of his memories. Recognizing the owner of a cautious voice from the doorway. Not a servant, and certainly not a maid.

“No, Robin.” Without turning around, the knight speaks with alarming coolness. Knuckles turning white as they strained, before relaxing, as he turned to face her. “I’m angry.”

To this, it seems the tactician has no reply. No nervous, suspicious smile that he'd seen her use following an awkward comment. No solution, like she seemed so quick to offer when looking over maps and battle plans with Chrom. Robin simply said nothing and stared.

“Why are you here?” His fingers pinch at the bridge of his nose, and for the first time, he sees no point in hiding his exhaustion, or indeed any weakness from the suspected spy's gaze.

Still only inches from the half-closed door, Robin ran a nervous tongue across her lips. It was only a few feet of room between them, but the two seemed worlds away.

“I was checking in on everyone,” She started to speak, eyes flickering to the door, her fingers pinching the skin on the back of her hand. Frederick took note of the bags under her eyes and the slump of her shoulders.

“I thought-”

“I’m fine.” He interrupted swiftly, like the killing blow of an axe. Noting a quick flash in her eyes, before she shot back a quick reply.

“You don’t look fine.” Any other day, Frederick would have taken offence to the suggestion he wasn't working at his full capacity. But this was not any other day, and he wasn't in the sort of situation that allowed him to pay mind to something as trivial as his own wellbeing. Not at a time like this.

"Do you have a plan?" Arms firmly crossed, the knight stares Robin down. He's sure it's quite a sight, the low light of the night sky, painted with stars and carpeted with snow as the background to his intimidating figure. Complying quickly with the subject change, Robin finds confidence in the sudden structure and safety that came with discussing plans.

"Yes.” She responded, sharp and quick, and Frederick is left to inhale deeply when she follows the definite statement with a less than convincing retraction. “I think I do."

"And it's going to bring her back?" He pushes the subject, taking a step forward, and paying close attention to the woman's body language. How her eyes flickered around the room, anywhere but his face. How her hands fidgeted with her clothes and picked at her own skin. How well she walked the line between an anxious, amnesia plagued woman, and a terribly trained, awfully suspicious spy.

So much so that Frederick was hardly sure for which character she was playing most the time.

"I... I think so." She tells him, crossing her own arms so tight she might as well have wrapped them around her body. Frederick, he shakes his head. A defensive action. The kind Lissa would do when he was questioning her about missing sweets from a jar. Resting his hand on the back of a nearby chair, pushed into a neatly organized desk, Frederick does his best not to think about what would happen were he and the Shepherds to fail. What would happen to Ylisse were they unable to win this fight. What would happen to its people, were they to be left leaderless.

What life would be like, were they unable to recover Emmeryn at all.

Swallowing hard, Frederick takes the same tone he would when speaking to newly trained troops. One laced with the hardened temperament he’d grown to define himself by.

"That's not good enough. Not for Chrom or Lissa, and not for Ylisse.” With a cold fire burning within him, Frederick repeats his question.

“Will it bring her back?"

And with a sharp tongue, and a similar temperament, Robin, for the first time, talks back.

"I don’t know!” She snaps, her hands quitting their idling to throw out at her sides, palms facing the ceiling.

“I don't know, okay? I can't predict the future, I can't promise that right now. I can't just make every plan perfect with a snap of my fingers. Not without a lot of thought." With every word her volume changes. Rising, wavering, with a hesitant, unsure energy throughout that only made the tightness in his chest worse.

A tactician couldn't have this sort of self-doubt. They couldn't stutter or stumble, and they certainly couldn't risk instilling this sort of insecurity or wavering bravery in their fellow soldiers. And like it or not, a tactician was what Robin was. And if Frederick had to be the one to remind her of this harsh truth? Then so be it.

It's with swift, long-striding steps that Frederick closes the gap between them both, barely noticing as Robin stumbled backwards, her back hitting the wood as the knight stopped, just short of half an arms reach in front of her.

“Then think, Robin. And make it perfect." He spoke harshly, watching her wide eyes as they fixed themselves on his solely face.

"It's more than just her life on the line." She looks like she has more to say. A thousand words kept behind her tight lips, bitten back by gritted teeth and a set jaw. But they are words Frederick never hears, as with a soft exhale, and one final intense look, Robin slips out the door and into the hallway, leaving Frederick to rest his head against its wooden body, blood pumping in his ears.

It's frustrating to him that he is now more grounded than he was before she came in. That his grasp on the physicality of his surroundings is that much more tangible than when his head was clouded with destructive thoughts.

She'd come here to check on him. After likely checking on all the others as well. She had to know there was nothing she could have said to fix the pain he felt. That anyone felt. She had to know.

But she'd tried to help. And though it vexed him to such a great degree to admit it, she did, in a way. Focusing him. Giving him a glimpse of a goal. Even if that tightness was still ever present, tugging and prickling at his chest.

Only now is the weariness taking his body. Days travel and hours of emotional torment taking their toll, weighing down on him like the heaviest armour. Sleep still feels so far and foreign, like an unattainable goal. But a goal he would pursue nonetheless.

Pulling back from the door, with slowly opening eyes, Frederick sighed, and without his normal decorum, began to pull off his day clothes, and settling into the too-warm, too-comfortable Feroxian bed.

Tonight was time for sleep. Rest, at the very least could he manage it.

And come tomorrow, he would make sure that in the very least, someone had a plan.

Chapter Text

The hallway outside Frederick’s room was long and winding. Empty save for a few dimming scones and a table holding a flowerless vase. Lukewarm in its temperature, Feroxian in its design. Robin, would have appreciated it more were her eyes not screwed so tightly shut.

With her head resting on his barrier of a wooden door, she was with laboured breath. Heaving like she’d run a marathon. Her eyes stinging, and her teeth grinding.

That was the first time anyone had ever raised their voice ather off the battlefield. She was sure of that. In fact as she stood there with clenched fists, it hit Robin like a heavy weight that that incident had been the first time she’d ever argued with anyone.

Within her miniscule memory at the very least..

It was so… stupid. This entire situation.

Sucking in another breath, Robin let her mind wander to Fredericks form at the window. Tall, broad shouldered she saw it briefly before before it vanished along with the air in her lungs.

How entirely stupid of her to try to see him after such awful revelations. How completely idiotic of her to think he’d want comfort from anyone, or at the very least from her. Walking in there with no idea what to say and the full knowledge of how deeply he felt about the royal family and his country. Her, going in there with the intent to talk him down and into a better headspace? Her, standing there, when it was well known that he hated her presence. Hated her everything.

Feeling a sob choking in her throat, and her frustrations rise once more, Robin stepped backwards till her back hit the opposite wall, her head resting against its surface as her arms wrapped around her middle protectively.

So stupid, Every single thing about this situation, about her- It was stupid.

She hated that part of her would have been content standing there all night. Bubbling in self-loathing in this hallway until she passed out from exhaustion. That didn’t solve anything. Self-pity and wallowing wouldn't fix this. Her fingernails dug into her arms as she screwed her eyes shut, trying to block tears from escaping her.

Where was that confidence she had back in the throne room? Maybe it had only been a surge, but she’d felt it. It was proof that she could muster the courage to speak up, if only for a second. The feeling was fleeting, but now she wished she could cling to it, and use it to face that which was tearing her down both inside and out. Her heart burned to feel fueled by that fire, to be driven to a new purpose.

But in the hallway she found nothing but the sting of tears in her eyes and heartache of another kind.

And it was there she would likely have lingered, did not the sound of approaching footsteps echoing towards her trigger a mad dash to scrub any evidence of her strife from her face with her hands. Just in time as the figure came into view.

“Robin? What are you doing out here?” Exhausted, but still so full of sweet concern was the voice. Hesitant was the look in his eyes, it was with extreme guilt that of all people in this massive castle, it was him. Robin looked up to find Chrom standing just a few meters down the hall, dressed in casual clothes.

“I was just… wandering around,” She lied, shrugging as she let out a sniffle. She'd have worried about being questioned, but something about the bags under his eyes and the messier than normal blue hair told her that she could get away with this disheveled state this time. She cleared her throat.

“Are you… well, no. You're not okay.” Robin started and then backtracked immediately. Chrom looked to the floor for a moment, eyes glassy, before his gaze flicked up to meet hers. The sudden eye contact made her instantly nervous. Then again, when didn’t it.

Chrom had seemed fueled by her words in the throne room. No, she knew he had been inspired. That fire that was always present within him burned brighter after she spoke. She should have felt happy to have such an effect on her friends mood, but the only emotion coursing through her right now was sharp, virulent guilt.

“No but… I will be.” Confidence flooded his tone, and a feeling of dread tugged at her stomach lining. There was something in the brief flash of fire in his eyes that told her that what he was about to say, would not ease her worries..

“With you planning this I'm sure… no. I know we can win this.” The sureness in his tone could have killed her. It should have killed her right then and there. Just stopped her heart and had been done with it. But as Chrom stared on at her with such a dedicated look in his eyes, Robin found no release through death.

“R-Really?” She stuttered, trying not to sound like she’d been shattered just then. Her planning wasn’t enough. It wasn’t even a plan yet. She’d just spoken out all of the sudden, with no basis yet to work off of.

“Yes. You've never once let us down,” Yet.

“And I've seen you in action,” Not closely enough, apparently.

“You're talented,” Because wielding a tome made her so clever.

“I know that whatever you come up with, it'll work.” How? How could he be so sure?

Genuinely, she wanted to drop to her knees and ask him how. Beg him for an answer as to why he had put so much faith in her from the very beginning when she barely trusted herself.

She wanted to ask him how he could be standing there in front of her. Sturdy, with dry cheeks. Not sobbing in his room, or giving up altogether. She wanted to plead for a morsel of that resolve to use in her everyday life. But she knew the answer was simply that to back down or give up not in Chrom’s nature. That sort of weakness wasn't who he was.

So who was she?

It's in complete silence she stared on at him. There was nothing she could say or do. Nothing at all as he looked on with the confidence of an army of a hundred thousand men. She could not say a word in response that could either affirm his trust in her or destroy it.

Was that who she was.

In that quiet, his eyes fogged for a moment, before his throat cleared. Followed by a purposeful gaze he looked past her, down the hall. Robin looked behind herself briefly and found and empty hallway. When she looked back he had begun to walk.

“I… I should head to bed. Lissa is sharing with me tonight, and I don't want to leave her alone any longer. Goodnight, Robin.” Resting a hand on her shoulder as he passed, Robin gave what could barely be considered a nod.

“Goodnight, Chrom.” She murmured half-heartedly, as his figure left her peripheral, the footsteps turned to nothing and he simply disappeared.

She didn’t notice the absence of sound. Her mind was somewhere else.

A full minute of being wrapped up in her personal crisis passes. Robin swayed a little as her thoughts consumed her. All that time felt like an eternity, and it was only just after that that Robin finally decided to part ways with the hard exterior of Fredericks room, and the hall. Walking and turning corners to approach her room, the same 3 words echoed in her head

Who was she? Who was she?

There was no answer beyond the fog that clouded her mind whenever she looked to her past. Nothing but strife and confusion.

No answers, but there was another question. One that had awoken her many times through the night. And one that was cruel enough to do the same on this awful, cursed day. Attacking her long after she reached her room and quickly locked the door.

That invasive thought poked and prodded her, like the tip of a dagger on the crown of her head. It burdened her with painful headaches. Permeating in her mind as she stripped down to her nightclothes and threw herself under the covers, moaning in desperation at the intrusive thoughts.

Who was she? No.

Who is she now?

She was… she was...

No one.

Burrowing further under the covers she tried to block it out. Building a downy fortress as her weak defense.

She was no one.

With her fingers grasping at her head, Robin sat up with a soft cry. Tears springing at her eyes. No one. No one. No one at all.

That was the answer to that insufferable question, wasn't it? The reality haunted her every time she tried to talk and joke with her comrades. They were people she was learning more about every day. They had more to them than she could even begin to hope for or imagine.

Stumbling to her feet, nearly getting caught in the bedcovers, Robin stood, a hand on a wall keeping her upright. Her cheeks began to stain with tears, her eyes burning with exhaustion and pain.

There was a war going on. There were people dying, right now. People who were dying as she sat there and cried for herself. People who were relying on her. Chrom and Lissa. Frederick. Emmeryn. Every friendly villager she'd met, every shepherd she'd bonded with. Everyone was relying on her.

An empty person.

Empty, save for the melancholy that always tugged at her heart. Empty, like the cavity in her chest while the space in her head whirred with a sharp intelligence that meant nothing without a personality behind it. Cracking her eyes open, she blinked away tears till she could take a look at her surroundings.

Walls. Door. Floor. Furniture. Shapes undefined. Dark.

Short of breath she focused on the details. One hand holding her stomach as she heaved and blinked.

Her romance novel on the bedside table. Closer, the outline of the poor heroine’s rejection. Her stomach turned and she looked away.

No. Something else.

Her coat lying at the end of the bed. Purple, patterned. Unfamiliar, yet the possession she identified with above all.

Better.

A pillow, discarded by her tossing and turning, lying dejected on the floor. She breathed sharply.

Yes

The doorknob. Brass, metal. Shiny and eye catching, reflecting… reflecting....

Light.

Moonlight. Cutting through the inky blackness of the room. Peeking through the half pulled curtains on her window.

Moonlight so sharp it grabbed her attention, and briefly took her breath. Letting her follow it across the room, to the door as she reached its end the space beside it.

On her borrowed wooden desk. Messy and laid out with blank paper and numerous writing utensils. It's chair pushed out, waiting.

Robin swallowed, her mouth turning dry.

Waiting for it's blank pages to be filled.

Blank.

She blinked.

Robin was… empty. This was an unavoidable truth. She was battle plans, wrapped up in a purple coat and a timid frame. Not human, not a person. She filled notebook after notebook in the hopes that the words she constructed and communicated would be enough to fill her own self up.

But it never did. And she was never sated. No matter how many ideas she pushed out, in the hopes of pulling something new in.

So…

What did she want to be?

Shakily, she took a step forward. She let the sound of bare feet against the stone floor ground her. As sharp as the feeling of the cold wood against her hand as she rested it on the back of the chair. The smell of long burnt candles hung in the air.

She sat down.

Her fingers found a pencil, and comfort, in turn.

Robin had spent night after night alone. Pouring her fleeting being into plans for fleeting moments. She'd leaned over books till her back would crack and pop at any movement. Written till her hand was ink stained and cramped and strained.

She’d known glimpses of that something more. Like the flickering, dying flames of a fire her flash of determination hours ago still lingered there. Decisive. Confident.

She liked the sound of that.

Robin had been empty for what felt like an eternity. Since the moment she woken up in that field, feeling like nothing more than an amnesiatic husk. For months, she'd searched for meaning in a job gifted to her by those who she clung to for support.

For so many sleepless nights before, Robin had drained herself. Thinking of ways to keep the others happy, to keep herself by their side. To learn. To grow. To change. To change into anything but she, who was so hatefully nothing inside.

Clenched, her fingers moved to scribe the first letter. A hollow being forcing the dregs of courage into actions. Grasping the sense of another, better self for purpose. A light, however fleeting, building to a ghost formation. Built with the goal to push away the cold, avaricious obscurity that hung around her in the last hours of the dusk and threatened to seep in.

In a cold and empty room, Robin wrote her way to a night unlike the others.

Chapter Text

To say Cordelia slept much that night would be a lie.

The events of the day prior were heavy in her mind, long after she'd risen to get dressed. Every Shepherd she crossed paths with on her way to get food and any further information on their situation walked with shoulders drooped, eyes red and weighed down by dark purple bags.

Chrom, though working with a heart that seemed close to breaking, planned and worked with a furious determination that was frightening in a way. Though Cordelia was not always privy to what happened behind closed doors, she could see it in the way he talked to Frederick and Lissa. The fire in his eyes. The strength in his voice. It was a fire and strength that pushed her to her own limits. Checking every piece of her armour, practising every swing of her arm and stab of her lance. Preparing, while the army built up their numbers to swell, for the coming war.

It took a day for them to gather themselves. And the very next morning at the break of dawn, 2 days after the news, the army moved out.

This time nobody complained of the cold. Nobody talked, really. Even Vaike with his constant little instigating comments was silent as everyone moved as one conglomerated swarm.

Cordelia was quick to take point on her pegasus, with Sumia helping as they soared over the endless line of troops, moving like a dark metal river through the pure white snow. There is no risk of a risen attack. Not with forces this big and overwhelmingly armed. But Cordelia still patrolled over the moving soldiers, in the hope that it would bring some small comfort that they all desperately needed.

Below she could make out the shepherds, quiet as they moved. In the hour that had passed since they'd exited Regna Ferox's gates, some conversations had bloomed. Quiet, but just audible if she were to swoop down low enough.

“Lissa, dear. Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to ride with me?”

“Uh, hey. Stahl. I know you get real hungry on these things, so I snagged you some bacon before we left. Don’t look at me like that, you bastard. Just take it.”

Obviously, now more than ever, the Shepherds were looking out for one another. Each offering the other support in their own ways. Careful not to fly too low, in fear of hitting her companions heads with her pegasi’s hooves, Cordelia watched her friends as they all talked.

All but two.

Cordelia can't find it in herself to feel surprised as she watched Frederick and Robin moving silently.

Not together, no. Never together.

Frederick and his horse kept near the front of the group, keeping a close watch on Chrom, while Robin trailed behind, with her head in a tactics book.

The two had been solemn since leaving the city walls. Frederick was always serious, yes, but there was something far more intense in his focus, with more force in his movements and strides. And Robin…

Robin was different. Now more than ever she was reading, writing and handing things off to Chrom. There were whispers about the fire she showed in the throne room. And whispers about her elusive past, and that Plegian coat.

But most interesting was the tension between the knight and the tactician. It was sharper and edged with conflict. Some murmurs suggested they were close to a full-blown argument, but Cordelia…

Something had happened. And the pegasus knight was determined to know what.

The army made camp some hours later. Though they’d only been walking a day, they were pushing themselves harder and further than when they’d been on their way to Regna Ferox. The Feroxian army was used to the cold as well, which meant they were moving quicker over the land. It would likely only be a day more until they reached the village the Shepherds had taken their rest at all those days ago. This time, however, they wouldn’t be stopping.

They marched a few more hours before finally stopping just before night had fallen. Making camp took an hour and after dinner, most were settling in, more than ready for a long sleep.

Army tents, both Ylissean and Feroxian in design spanned outwards like a never-ending sea of harsh tarp. Their bland colours would have looked vibrant against the snowy wastes, were it not for the heavy clouds blocking the moon. Leaving dim, weak torchlight to haphazardly light the way.

Cordelia's own tent was long set up, her weapons and armour deposited precisely beside her cot and her pegasus carefully hitched with Sumia’s, in a field not far from her.

Logically, she knew she should be in bed. The army would be rousing early, and there was little time for rest. But as she laid out her nightclothes, she was unable to fight off the curiosity that poked and prodded at her mind.

Robin’s tent as only a row or two away... And Cordelia had more than enough time for a quick chat… right?

It wasn't like the tactician slept much without the distraction. In fact, with all that had happened, a distraction was surely exactly what Robin needed, right?

Yes. Yes, she was sure of it.

Quietly, Cordelia slid through the tent flap, as if she were a teenager sneaking out of their parent's house. Walking to a friends tent was hardly the most illicit thing Cordelia could do, but she still found herself moving swiftly, deftly hopping over ropes and tent pegs, lest she trip and collapse a tent upon some poor foot soldier. The cold air nipped at her heels and casual clothes and she thanked Naga she had not yet donned her nightclothes.

There wasn’t much to Robin’s tent. It was bland enough that Cordelia was sure that she’d never have found it; without the sheer luck of spotting the tactician moving her sparse collection of things into the temporary abode.

She considered knocking for a second and then thought better of it when she remembered there wasn’t much to gain from effectively punching fabric. So instead she simply pulled aside the flap and stepped inside, calling the tacticians name gently.

There was, of course, a risk that Robin was asleep and Cordelia was about to wake her up. A tiny risk. An utterly minuscule risk if the constant purple bags under the tactician's eyes were any evidence. But a sleeping Robin was certainly far more likely in Cordelia’s mind than what she beheld as she stepped inside. A sight that had her words fall dead on her tongue.

Papers.

Everywhere.

They covered the ground, stacked high in corners and the little nightstand table. Even spilling over into the cot, covered in quickly drawn squiggles and diagrams, mixed intermittently with tactics books, tomes and god knows what else. It was like a library had been hit by an Elwind and exploded. And then been pushed into a pile with some surviving books. And then exploded some more with a Rexcalibur.

It was a nightmare, and seated in the middle of it, on the floor of all places, with her hair undone and frazzled, was Robin.

“Cordelia?” She asked as if she wasn’t sure of the pegasus knight was real. Cordelia herself was questioning reality because, Naga, there were so many papers, it was inhuman. She gaped a few seconds like a fish before answering.

“I... wanted to… check on you.” She mumbled. Yes, she knew Robin had been working harder, but this? It was ungodly. It was frightening and so very disorganized. It was worrying.

Robin caught her gaze and looked around at the gathering of papers sheepishly. She seemed at least somewhat aware of the absurdity of the situation.

For a moment, at least.

“I… I haven't thought anything out yet.” Okay. Well, that was blatantly untrue.

“Really?” Cordelia asked as she loitered by the doorway, in fear of walking on something important. Robin didn’t meet her eyes for a second, looking down to the pencil and half scrawled on paper.

“Because it looks to me like you’ve been thinking all too much.” Kneeling down, Cordelia picked up the nearest paper. On it, were drawings of terrain. A scenario where the army would be fighting in the sand. Looking over, she found another, this time with a map of a river. Separate formations were marked in separate inks. There was another, detailing ruins. Another, theorizing possible Plegian architectural building layouts.

Everything was thought of. To the point where everything was being overthought. Every movement, every line and letter were written in handwriting edged in desperation. Once she’d collected a good ten of them, she stacked them together and looked Robin in the eyes.

“You need to tell me what’s wrong.” No asking, this time, like Cordelia had in the barracks, and later on with the girls in Lissa’s tent. No observing like she had on her pegasi earlier that day. No more guessing and dancing around it.

“I know something is wrong.” She said again when Robin met her eyes, Twirling a pencil between her fingers, looking to the papers in Cordelia’s hands.

Cordelia had expected more romantic troubles with Frederick. Something that the knight could easily help with. This? This was out of her range. This was out of her depth and— yes Cordelia maybe had some small, minuscule issues with perfectionism but they were hardly anything worth mentioning in comparison to— to— well, this!

Robin sighed.

“I don’t know if I can explain it,” Robin admitted, beginning to pick up the papers and books. There was a distant look in her eyes as she moved them into her own piles, glancing to Cordelia as she did. The air was thick with a loud silence, and after a full, painful minute Robin had cleared a space around her and looked to Cordelia again.

“I can’t explain it.” Robin decided, rubbing a hand over her face. She looked tired. So, so tired. But she didn’t stop, scooping a pile up, shuffling over to the entrance of the tent, closer to Cordelia who listened intently.

“But if you give me a chance then I think…” She gestured to the papers, all of them. Clutching a group in her fist that she loosened her grip on, before offering them to Cordelia.

“I think that these can.” Cautiously, Cordelia took the papers in her hands. She wasn’t going to lie and say she understood what was going on. She wasn’t going to pretend she wasn’t alarmed by what exactly was happening with their tactician. But Robin needed someone to listen. And Cordelia had offered her that days ago.

So if Robin felt that these papers were the answer- or at least some answer of any kind to what had been weighing on her- hurting her. Then Cordelia would listen.

So with her legs crossed, as the thousands of others headed to bed for the night, Cordelia took the papers and held them close to her chest.

And she listened. For the good of her friend, she listened.

And Robin’s rambling began.

-

She hadn’t expected any visitors that night, but then again when did Robin ever invite anyone over. Had she known Cordelia was coming she would’ve made an effort to clean up, but it was perhaps her messiness that made it that much easier to explain what was happening inside her head.

"Two nights ago I talked to Frederick, in his room." Robin watched Cordelia's eyes glint. Like she had finally found something she could understand.

Not quite.

"I wanted to see if he was okay and he was not and we fought. Like, we had an actual fight. With yelling. And then I went back to my room and—" Did Cordelia need to know about her breakdown? Robin doubted that would make her seem anything but weak in the eyes of the pegasus knight.

She would leave that out.

"I realized that— I understood—" Robin stuttered and stumbled before biting down on her tongue. No. None of that.

“These are my thoughts," Robin said, gesturing to the papers.

"My thoughts and my plans. And they’re… all I have, really. My ideas. My failures. My successes. Does that make sense?” That night in her room at Regna Ferox still weighed heavy in her head. Robin didn’t sleep. She just wrote. She didn’t eat that morning, she just wrote. Over and over and over she came up with plans and offered them to Chrom. They would be shot down and redone, or they would be accepted and put in the pile of possible contingencies when the time to battle came.

She didn’t speak to Frederick after visiting him that night, and the knight seemed to like it that way. His eyes still burned into her back each time she approached Chrom. Watching and scrutinizing but it was nothing compared to the burning in her chest.

Who am I?

Who am I?

“This is me, Cordelia. This is it. Blank papers with scribbles. I’m just scribbles. I write scribbles. They work or they don’t. They make people happy, or they don’t.” She watched her friend closely for any comment. Any denial or attempt to cheer her up. But Cordelia was silent in shock. Cordelia was just listening.

Robin tried another approach.

“I’ve heard people talking about it, so what do you think about what happened that day? In the throne room?" Cordelia blinked and thought for a second, then another. Pursing her lips and hm-ing, like the possible words she could say were rolling over her tongue.

“If you mean when you spoke up, people are talking about it because it was just so sudden and so… completely out of character.” There it was. Robin barked a short laugh.

“Was it?” She asked, going back to collecting her papers. Sorting maps and writings and theories in, what were to her, clear piles.

“What?” Beside her, Robin hears shuffling and she turns her head just in time to see Cordelia laying papers on the cot beside her. Organized in a way Cordelia seemed to understand.

And one that Robin just... couldn't.

“I… I don't know. I just… I don't think I can say it's out of character. Because I don't even know what's in character for me.” She looks away from her friend's collection of papers, instead seeking out the last of the books.

It's around now that it really occurs to her how frightening and manic a sight this must be.

“I'm sorry." She freezes and then rushes to pick everything up.

"I know you didn't come here to hear me like… this.” Flustered now, Robin harried herself. Gathering things up in a flurry of arms and sheets.

“No, It's okay. I understand.” Understood what? That Robin was manic? One-tone? Probably insane? With a swift motion, she pushed everything onto her bed.

Failures.

Successes.

Theories.

Maps.

Reports.

2 days and 2 nights worth of ramblings and desperation.

Robin faltered.

“I… I don't. I don't understand anything.”

She could feel herself returning back to that pitiful state. Wrapped up in her covers on the brink of tears. Feeling pain. Feeling confused.

Her fingers tightened around the edge of the cot, and she gripped it till it hurt. And she fought it. With all the force she could muster, Robin fought.

And then let go.

“I don't know who I am." She whispered, letting her grip loosen like the words she spoke into the air. Openly, not just in her mind or too herself.

She admitted it to another person.

"I don't know who I am and I don't know who I was either. I'm terrified I'll never know and I'll always be like this, and I'm terrified that what I'll learn about my past will make me wish I had amnesia all over again. I don't know if there are people out who— who care about me. Who are out there, waiting for me, or looking for me. I try to think and everything is just… blurry. Messy, like scribbles.” At some point, as her words rushed out like an overflowing river, Cordelia had shuffled over. Quietly, carefully. Having taken a seat close to Robin's side. Offering a question.

“Well… if you can't work with what you may have had, what about what you know? How do you want to be?” How did she want to be?

“I don't know." Robin's shoulders moved in a weak shrug.

"I feel like I don't know anything.” No. No that was a lie. That was her trying to get out of talking. She would not abide that.

“What I mean is, look at everyone and I want to take on their traits. I want to be observant like you. Kind like Sumia, fun like Lissa. I want to be steadfast and confident like Frederick and I want to be the kind of person someone would follow into battle, like Chrom. But adopting all those things onto myself wouldn't make me, me. It'd just be acting.”

“Then be you.” Easy. Simple as could be. Probably one of the easiest things most grown, adult women could do.

Easy if that was what you wanted.

“I can't. I don't… I don't want to be.” There's a heavy feeling in Robin's chest. Clenching, aching and pinching. Embarrassment is not something she's totally unfamiliar to. But there was something particularly embarrassing about admitting you were embarrassed— no, horrified by the thought of being yourself.

Cordelia was so quiet as Robin ranted. The decisive, intelligent and wonderful woman seemed unable to decide on words. She just watched Robin, who watched her papers. Begging, hoping, pleading that the only person observant enough to know something was wrong would be able to give her an answer.

Instead, Robin is offered a question.

“Robin, do you like the way you are now? Are you happy with yourself?” Was she happy?

“... No,” It's a simple answer to a complicated question, which filled her mind with complicated thoughts.

She wasn't happy with how she was now because how she was now didn't feel right. Didn't feel like a person she wanted to be, at the very least.

Focusing on her cot, she gazed over the towns in her plans again.

Fusing her own views of herself with what people told her, how they viewed her. She defined her current self by that.

“When people talk about me— describe me, they say 'Oh, well, she's a tactician. she makes choices on the battlefield. She's a person who acts good and follows most of the rules. She reads books and she sits in areas that are quiet.' That's what they say. So I think that's what I am.” She paused, looking over to Cordelia, still watching closely from where she was seated neatly on the ground

“Does all of that sound accurate to you?” Robin asked the flier, who chewed her lip for a moment, likely wondering what exactly to say.

“Yes, but…” She began with a raising hand and then faltered. Robin ignored that and egged her on.

“But?”

“Well, like you said. Those are decisions. They're something you do.” Quietly, Cordelia spoke, and Robin nodded with a small, melancholy smile.

“Exactly.” She said softly, leaning back on her arms.

It was the things Robin did that caught people's attention. From a week ago, back in the barracks, when Cordelia first called her out on her strange behaviour, everything she did that made her suspicious in Fredericks mind.

It was her behaviour that caught people's eyes.

She was a good tactician because she made decisions that helped them win. That was why Chrom had her join the shepherds. She was quiet and didn't socialize, which was why she was invited to hang out with all the girls.

Robin was actions. Robin was doing and overthinking.

But Robin was one more thing, behind all of the actions she took and things she did not say.

Robin was an amnesiac.

And she was terrified to forever wallow as that defining state.

“I'm not a person... I-I don't feel like a person.” Sure, physically she was. All her parts and her intellect matched the definition at the very least. But did she ever think of herself in a broader sense, things got blurry. Ultimately it would bring about the mind-fog, frustratingly obfuscating any truths. Then with it, would bring the aching headaches at the pique of her skull in tow.

“I don’t want to be quiet,” Pulling away from the pain, she thought briefly of her moment in Frederick room days ago. More accurately, how genuinely liberating it felt to snap, just for once. And the feeling of venting her actual thoughts and opinions to other living breathing humans instead of letting them whir around in her mind.

“I don't like being quiet.” Her words were spat with a sharp bitterness. Peace and quiet being around her was a gift, for sure. But quiet wasn't Robin. It wasn't what she wanted to be, at the very least.

Because quiet got her pity from her comrades. It got her mostly overlooked until it came to needing a second voice on the battle. And while quiet didn't mean weak, it gave many that assumption towards her. And other assumptions. All dubious in nature.

“I want to change.” Robin decided, feeling a weight slip off of her back with the four words.

She wanted to be that woman in the throne room, with the confidence to take on an impossible task and shoulder it. She wanted to take her many building frustrations and use them as the ammunition she needed to be decisive, and witty enough to strike back.

But most of all she wanted- no, she needed the freedom. The chance to do more than what she already was already doing every day. To learn about herself beyond the boundaries of her work, and the world she felt so unfamiliar with as well. And she had no opportunity for that here.

She couldn't go where she pleased, or spend money and meet people as she liked. Not without being watched and judged. Robin had responsibilities and expectations for what she needed to do following her every plan and move. And they were responsibilities that she would never turn on.

But Robin, still, could see no place to grow. To develop or learn about more than just fighting. A life more than tomes, schedules and training. Where she isn't sleeping in an army tent with a sword always in arms reach, just in case.

Robin was now barely aware of the tent around her. Consumed by thoughts of warm, sun-soaked fields and peaceful village upon peaceful village. Faraway places where somewhere she might find a clue to her past.

“I want to change,” She repeated to Cordelia, fingers flexing as she blinked her eyes a few times, bringing herself back to reality. A reality where she sat in a tent in the middle of nowhere, on her way to fight a battle that was only barely hers.

“And I can't do that with a war going on.”

Cordelia watched her with hesitancy. Hesitancy Robin had seen on the faces of countless others who had questions she had no answers for.

But not this time.

“So what are you going to do?” Robin looked back to the maps of towns. Kingdoms. A Plegian map that was a clone of the larger copies used at war tables. Old, and immaculately recorded by an expert cartographer. Robin plucked the paper and placed them in her nearby journal. Snapping violently it shut.

What would she do about this hot-blooded, impending war?

Oh, the answer to that was very simple.

“I'm going to end it.”

Chapter Text

The road from Regna Ferox to the Plegian borders and the deserts that followed were filled with silence, planning, and not much more.

Robin didn't sleep much after she and Cordelia talked. Rather, her hours were filled (unsurprisingly) with war plans and marching.

It took a week to re-enter Ylissean soil, at which point there was a split. The army they'd gathered was strong and had plenty in numbers, but it would be useless as a whole in the effort to save Emmeryn. Entering Plegia with such a force would do nothing but force the Mad King's hand.

Instead, the large force was sent to secure Ylisstol, Flavia and Basilio staying with the smaller militia of the shepherds, who would travel into Plegian territory, hopefully going unnoticed. Robin was certain Emmeryn's public execution was nothing more than an attempt to ensnare Chrom and the others, but they had no other choice to engage.

Robin would need a plan.

Plegia had a curious history of war practise, and a wicked one. Ylisse in its crusades those 20 odd years ago was cruel, bloodthirsty almost. So much so that Robin was shocked at how Emmeryn managed to win the hearts of so many after the conduct of her family before her.

But then, Emmeryn was not her father. Neither were Chrom or Lissa, all kind in nature. Not that many there seemed to care. The Plegian survivors of the war that won nothing but blood and broken families learned to be more ruthless. Moving past simple survival into cruelty. Revenge. A fantasy that, in its sudden reality, put the stability of all neighbouring countries and their people at great risk.

The Grimleal would be formidable. Dark fliers and dark mages, who would all be fighting on their own turf and own terms. Winning, or at the very least extracting Emmeryn would be excruciatingly difficult.

But not impossible.

Over the 2 weeks, it took to reach the golden deserts, people along the way jumped to try and join their fight. Young men in outskirt villages, armed with bronze swords and little basic training were turned down and directed to the more helpful purpose of defending their villages. However, it wasn't just these kinds of willing fighters the Shepherds came across.

Gregor, the foreign mercenary and Nowi... the…

They were two of those more… special, individuals. Caught in a grand misunderstanding when the Shepherds met them, which took a good half hour of battling Plegians looking into the slave trade to sort out.

Now the two were fighting with them, for better or worse.

"So you're a dragon?" Robin asked rather bluntly, during a stop to water the horses. The shepherds had been travelling in the desert 3 days now, and those with heavier armour and on horseback were suffering, especially with the sudden change in climate.

Horses moved slowly and painfully, and armour was so heavy and hot it posed a real risk to anyone who wore or was even unfortunate enough to be close in proximity to these people.

Not that some of them would ever admit that.

"Yeah! Well, I'm a manakete. You do know what that is, right?" Nowi spoke with vigour, jumping and bouncing with enthusiasm that was exhausting Robin, who had taken the moment to rest in the heat.

Not really. Not anything more than Lissa and Frederick told her. By all accounts, Robin should have been worried about the sudden appearance of dragon-like people. But it was the images of Plegian soldiers, who’d attempted to sell Nowi off that stuck in Robin’s mind.

Images of them running away. Paired with worries of how far they’d gotten, and who they’d reported the Shepherds presence to since. She needed to make sure the group were moving as fast as possible.

Robin shook her head and gave Nowi a shrug.

"No, I’m afraid I have amnesia. It's a really long story." She sighed, looking across the way as a few meters from her, Frederick coaxed his horse into taking a drink. From here even she could see how red the sun had turned his face. And how drained he was undoubtedly feeling.

In sharp contrast, as the sun's rays beat down on her body, Robin faced no physical toll. She found no discomfort in the sand and how it seeped into her shoes and got caught in her hair. And she was not so easily disoriented by warped waves in the air, making hallucinations of distant figures and buildings like many others described.

To Robin, the desert was disturbingly familiar.

"He needs to take his armour off. He's going to bake in that." Nowi, who had plopped down beside Robin crossed her arms with a scowl. One that nearly made the tactician laugh.

Frederick was the one in someone's bad books for once after he had told Nowi off for breathing fire near the horses. Admittedly a bad idea to do near some people's only form of transport. On his end, also admittedly a bad thing to do when the person he's riled up is a dragon whose age and maturity translated to that of a human 14-year-old.

"You can tell him that," Robin said, pulling out her waterskin to take a sip. No way was she going to try to speak to him. Not until after she’d proved herself. And after everything here in this desert and with the Plegians had wrapped up. She offered her water to Nowi, but the manakete seemed to have taken Robin’s words to heart.

"Ok." The girl chirped, and it was to Robin’s utter horror that she watched Nowi hop up to her feet, and cup her hands around her mouth, like the world's smallest and loudest town crier.

"Hey! Hey! You need to take that armour off or you'll burn!" She yelled, grabbing the knights attention as Robin looked for a swift exit. Something difficult to seek in an empty, barren desert. In her haste she pulled her hood down over her eyes, just in time to see Frederick staring across the way at the two of them, arms crossed and, as always, looking thoroughly unimpressed with her.

"And risk attack while unprotected? Unlikely. I'll keep myself safe from any attempts on my life, thank you!" Spoken like a true knight, Frederick barked his words at Nowi and Robin like an instructor answering a stupid question from two children. Robin kept her eyes to the sand before she gave a thumbs up to the knight that she regretted instantaneously. When she looked up, Frederick has already moved on.

“Cool,” She muttered, rubbing her face with her hands. She’d already managed to annoy him just by association. Just by being there. Awesome job. Incredible. “Great.”

"Who is he afraid of stabbing him?" Nowi sat back down beside Robin, leaning on her arms as she lolled her head to the side. Being completely oblivious to Robin’s change in mood, the tactician gave the short answer and raised her hand silently. Nowi’s eyebrows raised suddenly.

"Have you stabbed him before?" She asked; and almost sounded excited? Robin wasn’t quite sure.

"No. He just thinks I might." Robin explained, dusting down her sleeves, preparing to stand up. Nowi asked another question.

"Do you want to stab him?" Robin thought for a moment. Of when Frederick gave her food and helped her train. When he worried for just a second about her wellbeing in the snow.

And then she thought of the staring and the fighting and the constant undefinable tension.

Robin sighed.

"Sometimes," Robin admitted, helping Nowi to her feet. In front of her, the girl looked up and cocked her head. Staring up at Robin as Robin stared down at her.

"..."

"..."

"I can st—"

"Let's not have this conversation right now please." And that was the last time Nowi brought up any plans to assassinate the man Robin pined for. As the two moved to rejoin the others, and return to their trek to the desert again.

The ruins and the Mad King drew ever closer.

A day and two nights later, they came in reach of the ruins. Tall and looming in the distant, the group made camp to finalize their plans. With Robin at the centre of the table.

“The exalt is to be executed at the castle on the morrow. I heard if from the king's own lips, sire.” A spy, who's arrival had sparked murmurs and a rise in energy all over the camp spoke. At his side, Basilio looked over his report. Flavia leaned against the table and looked to the maps once again.

Robin had thought as much.

“This is it, then.” He said, leaning back so the current Khan could have her own look over. Chrom, with Frederick at his shoulder and Lissa at the knight's side, wasn’t looking at anything on the table or in anyone's hands. Instead, his eyes lay directly on Robin.

“Exactly as you predicted, Robin.” He said. The escapees from the border conflict with Nowi and Gregor had made it. Which means they’d arrived just on time.

“So far, yes. But tomorrow will be the true test…” Robin shrugged off the praise. Nothing had happened yet. There was nothing to celebrate.

"Chin up, there! Show some confidence! It's your thinking that's got us this far. The plan is risky, but only as much is called for." Robin's coughed heavily as the Khan slapped her back, knocking the air from her lungs and winding her momentarily. Gods, this woman was strong.

"We'll find a way to see it through, Robin. Don't worry. This time tomorrow, we'll be swapping stories with Emm on the road home." Chrom did his best to offer comfort, and Robin took it happily with a deep breath inwards, looking over the map of the ruins and their plans one last time.

Where Emmeryn would be put on display. The positions of the Mad King and his witch-assistant, Aversa. The troops and their weapons, the tactical layout of their army.

Everything had been accounted for. Robin had made sure of it. She was so sure of it.

From across the table, Frederick met her gaze. Their eyes locked, and she swallowed but did not look away.

"I hope you're right."

Robin went to sleep that night with Chrom's words in her mind. Her clothes laid out beside her, and a sword and tome on the ground beside her cot. She fell asleep confident she could prove herself. To all the shepherds, to the army, to Frederick. And to herself.

She was so confident, and then she woke up in a cold sweat the next morning.

A bad dream setting an omen for what would be, unknowing to her, a dark day ahead.

“Robin? Hey, Robin!” It was a pair of hands on her shoulders that woke her up, jostling her body as she gasped into consciousness. Her eyes scrambling to find focus through a groggy panic.

Lissa’s voice. Her tent. Her things at her side, the cot that she lay on and the light blankets hanging over her sweating form.

Robin had heard plans and orders in her dream. Unfamiliar, frightening voices. Emmeryn's name. She felt hollow in her chest.

There were tears in her eyes.

"What's wrong? Was it a nightmare?” Lissa was fully dressed, with her staff along her back. Light was peeking in through the tent flap and, now that she had started to concentrate, Robin could hear people, horses and boxes being moved outside.

Robin was here. Robin was safe, in camp, and Robin was with her friends. Her breath left her lungs shakily, along with the details of her dream.

"Is...that what it was? Y—yes, it must have been…" Her mind sharpens as she feels her knot of hair, untied and lying loose around her shoulders. Her sheets, damp like they'd been splashed with a little water. Her mouth, dry and sore.

Lissa looked over her. And Lissa looked worried.

"I'm sorry, what brings you here, Lissa? Was there something you needed?" Subtly, Robin reached for her waterskin and took a deep drink. Lissa looked over her friends form hesitantly but told Robin why she was here anyway.

"Frederick says it's time to march. And we can't start the plan without our master tactician!" Sighing as she capped the bottle, Robin's heart began thudding hard against her chest. Whether it was from the mention of Fredericks name or the notion of possibly dying later on today, Robin was unsure

"Right, yes, of course." In a swift movement, Robin threw the sheet off her bed, wiping the sweat off her forehead. How long had she been asleep? Not matter now, she needed her things.

Quickly she stood, locating her clothes, weapons and plans. Lissa hung by the bed, hesitation radiating from her body as she watched Robin move erratically around the room. The tactician wearing little more than underwear and a loose shirt.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Almost as if she had been hurt, Lissa had her arms crossed over her chest. At the sight of such concern, Robin paused.

This had to be hell for her. Her sister kidnapped, her brother made to lead an army. How she'd managed to cope throughout the whole ordeal with a smile on her face and no breakdown since her fainting at Regna Ferox was beyond Robin.

Lissa was strong. And so Robin would be strong for her friend.

"Yes, I just had the strangest dream. I thought…" Her stomach twisted as she thought back to it. They were unfamiliar figures, but something about them…

No. It had to be a symptom of stress. Robin shook her head and waved a hand, the hope in her chest begging that she seemed at least somewhat confident. For the sake of her companion.

"It doesn't matter. I'll be ready in five minutes" Robin promised. And though Lissa looked ready to argue, she said nothing and, with a nod and a smile in goodbye, exited into the desert.

A short time afterwards Robin followed. Fully dressed and tying her hair into pigtails as she walked. All around people were mobilizing. In an hour or so the encampment would be mostly empty, in its little crook of ruins not far from where Emmeryn was being held.

Time would tell whether they'd return, or if the camp would stand forever empty, as long as the sands willed it.

Everyone Robin had ever known was out and about. And while it was hardly a statement worth a lot in regards to her social circle, it was still a lot.

Phila, Cordelia and Sumia talked as they readied their pegasi, brushing the beasts with an air of anxiety. Vaike gave mediocre advice to Donnel, who did his best to copy the braggart's stance.

Frederick stood tall by the large tent keeping the horses shaded. At his side, Stahl and Sully talked, but he didn't seem to be listening. From the moment Robin had locked eyes on him, she found his staring back. Watching.

He pointed to the tent where she assumed Chrom was waiting for her, and Robin wasted no time in getting her nervous, blushing into the tent and far away from him as quickly as possible.

Gregor had other plans for her. Waving the tactician down as she walked past, nodding at the tome poking out of her coat.

"We are making of the killing of Plegian army today, yes?" He asked in an accent unfamiliar to Robin. Not that she actually knew what most accents sounded like anymore. Regardless, she nodded.

"Hopefully, we'll have fewer deaths on our hands. If the plan works" She informed him, watching as the large, older man snapped his fingers and nodded.

"Pegasus knights. Yes." So it seemed Chrom had already explained everything. Robin nodded again.

"Yeah, pretty much." Have the knights with Phila swoop in from behind. Catch the Plegians off guard, and get Emmeryn out of there and over to her heavily armed siblings and their friends, similarly armed to the teeth.

It would be swift, but it would work. Robin was sure that as long as no Plegian soldier were aware of the plan, it would work.

She swallowed a lump in her throat and gave Gregor a nod.

"Good luck out there." She told him, watching as Lon'qu gestured for him to join the other swordsman. He nodded again and gave her a wave, before moving across the sands to the others.

It was another few hundred meters away that Robin found Chrom, standing atop a massive sand dune that allowed the shepherds a clear view of their target. It was there that he was pouring over the map one last time.

"If you stare at it any longer like that, your eyes will start to sting." She said, walking to his side. His eyes didn't move from the paper and were it not for the noticeable drop of his shoulders upon he approach, Robin would have thought he hadn't heard her come in. He was that engrossed.

"When you described where we were going you said ruins. I wasn't expecting a city." He said with an upwards glance after a few more moments of silence. Robin winced.

It was both really. Looking over it, the Plegian capitol was both imposing and… depressing. A city built into the skeleton of a giant, long-dead beast, it’s final resting place half settled into a desert mountain. Surrounded by barren cracked ground and dust, with fallen columns and hollow, roofless four wall structures surrounding its crumpled walls.

It was tiny. It was overflowing. And near the outside, strangely beyond the walls, it had a large courtyard, that lead into a large castle embedded into the mountain. One that was swarming with soldiers.

One that would be the scene of their battle for Emmeryn's life.

"Their infrastructure hasn't changed much since the crusades," Robin explained. No money, barely people any people and even less young men made for an economic nightmare. Knowing what she did from history books and reports, it was a wonder to her that they'd managed to scrape together an army at all.

But then again, when people were really, truly desperate they'd do anything to have a purpose than wasting away in poverty.

Robin was a perfect example of that.

She cleared her throat.

"Are you versed on the plan?" She asked, looking away from the daunting buildings and distant people. Chrom folded the map, giving her a half-hearted half-smile before he spoke.

"We move in quietly to the ruins. Enter from the north, and then move south through the dunes and then east, past a blockade and to the courtyard entrance. There, we'll have our backup. The Plegians will be caught off guard, and we'll have Emm." Robin clicked her tongue, thoroughly impressed with how quickly Chrom had memorized and then retained her plan.

She reminded herself that, despite his oblivious nature with women, he was their leader for a reason. He was just in need of an extra voice of reason.

Extras. If you considered her, and—

"And this will work?" Said a stern, familiar voice from behind the two.

Frederick.

Robin froze solid on the spot, and a chill fired up her spine. Her senses completely leaving her and leaving her an absolute tense mess. Chrom paid no mind as Frederick walked forward, deliberately positioning himself to stand between his liege and Robin. In such a way that he brushed against her shoulder, briefly breaking down her ability to speak or think rationally.

"It will work," Chrom said with a voice that was, to his credit, full of confidence. A shame that his words prompted Frederick to turn his attention to Robin. Looking down on her, accentuating the good whole foot of height difference between them. Something that made Robin's mouth go dry.

"I mean, it—"

She hated that he could do this to her.

"It has to." She finished, after taking a deep breath, trying her best to smile at Frederick who, as always, wore a mask of steel in return.

His eyes flickered away from hers, looking to the city and ruins below.

"I hope so." He mumbled, before excusing himself swiftly, with Chrom in pursuit. A battle was coming after all.

And Robin, with a heavy heart, could feel the strain Frederick held in his tone. It added to the weight that was breaking her shoulders. A weight that grew heavier as everyone finished preparations, and started their short march down from the sandy hills

Getting to the scene of the coming execution was so easy, it sent Robin into a paranoid state more severe than she'd ever felt before. They simply walked down the hill, and seemingly, to the guards patrolling, appeared from the desert-like countless others who'd travelled to see the Exalt fall.

No random encounters, no people asking why they were there and only a few funny looks followed the group as they all moved on foot.

It was almost certain that they had been allowed to sneak in.

And as Robin had suspected, that meant there was no doubt that the group would be walking right into a trap.

This fact did not make a single Shepherd falter as they reached the edge of the courtyard ruins. Dressed in robes, donned in concealing scarves, hoods and wraps.

A fashion sense apparently popular with Plegians, as Robin noted the passing individuals. All keeping their heads down and avoiding eye contact. For a public execution, not many people were there.

And the people present hardly looked common enough to warrant grouping in with the 'general public'.

"Hey, Robin, I'm— uh. Seeing a lot of armour, and swords on hilts." Mumbled Stahl, who did quite well to keep his voice down as he walked up beside her. Robin nodded but didn't respond as they passed by yet another gigantic fallen column and passed by the last few guards before the main gates. That was if the spies information was correct.

The once grandiose courtyard towered over the group, bigger and greater than even that of the Ylissean palace. And hauntingly empty.

Behind great chunks of weathered sandstone, the group knelt and hid. Chrom, Lissa and Frederick in front of Robin, and the rest behind. Across the sands and near the outskirts leading to deserts, Robin locked eyes with Phila. Hiding in a hollow, roofless building. Her pegasus knights, and The Shepherds other animals in tow.

Turning her attention back to the three in front of her, Robin cleared her throat.

"There's your horse." Robin murmured, tapping Frederick twice with her finger. He raised a brow at the sound of her nail on his pauldron but followed where her other hand pointed.

"An astute observation." He commented. In fact, he said rather dismissively.

For the first time, as she looked at him, Robin felt a flare rise up in her stomach. An intense emotion that was neither sad nor driven by any romantic attraction on her part.

Very deliberately, Robin proceeded to look past Frederick, over to where Chrom and Lissa were still watching the courtyard. Going to great lengths to not have to look at him again.

It was wide, with stairs leading up and inside to a building reminiscent of a giant cathedral. Large, narrow platforms suck out from the cliffside the back of the building was built against. Like spikes embedded in poorly made brigand armour. But it was the biggest, most heavily guarded one, along with the square of guards at the top of the steps that caught Robin's attention.

"That's where they'll have her. And that's where the Mad King will be." Robin told Chrom, earning a wide-eyed look from the prince.

"And you are sure of that because?" Asked Frederick, dubiously. Normally she would have somewhat understood his hesitation, but time was short and so was her temper. Robin felt that flare once again. Sharper, and more evocative, like she'd been prodded directly to the stomach with a hot iron.

"Critical thinking and the use of context, Sir Frederick." Somehow the words that left Robin's mouth were both sharp and placid. They were strong enough that they garnered a sharp snort from someone behind her. As well as a flare of nostrils and set jaw on Fredericks end.

"I–"

"Would advise we wait until we see Emmeryn and have a clear mark on her before we act. We won't have a direct way in." Paying no mind to whatever Frederick was about to say, Robin, pressed on, gesturing to the courtyards exterior infrastructure.

Elevated above the sands, there was no way to get in but the front door, without a pegasus or a wyvern. And with the archers positioned at the same entrance, there was no getting past them that way either.

No, to get inside the courtyard they'd have to fight their way in and then out.

"Basilio and Flavia will have secured a way out by the time we have Emm," Chrom said, but Robin was only half aware of her words as a hand suddenly grabbed her shoulder and dragged her attention elsewhere.

Gaius, a thief she had barely had time to talk to since his recruitment during the first attempt on Emmeryn's life, pointed to sudden movement at the top of the stairs.

"It's starting." He murmured, and her stomach dropped.

"Good eye." Was what she dumbly said back, as the others beside her slowly caught on with sudden gasps and caught breath.

Most of them, at the very least. For when Robin looked to Chrom, she found Frederick still staring at her with a slow-burning frustration bordering on anger in his eyes. A look that made the pit in her stomach worse.

Trust her to make an already bad relationship worse with a few simple words.

She could have contemplated Frederick longer, and likely would have, were it not for the sudden voice that boomed out across the courtyard, reaching the sands where the Shepherds stood, instilling a sensation of cold-blooded fear and hot-blooded anger coursing through Robin's body.

Gangrel had finally made his entrance.

"Good people! Warriors of Plegia! Welcome! Welcome, one and all! Your anticipation electrifies the air!" Even from this far away, Robin could tell he was decked in his usual gaudy fashion. Flashy gold, beautiful silks. All that as a reminder to the gold the country hoarded with their church, never a coin spent on its citizens.

Robin's blood burned through her veins. Her fingers coiled with rage she could not quite place as she caught sight of the figure being lead out onto the cliffside by a guard. A figure she'd seen and known before.

"Emmeryn." Lissa's pained whisper reached Robin's ears at the same time the Mad King's cries did.

"We ALL remember the crimes of Ylisse…" A single sentence and the Shepherds around her bristled. Hackled raised.

"Not yet." She hissed to them through gritted teeth. "Not yet."

"Would you have their witch-queen answer for them? Here? Today? NOW?" With each question the cries and jeers of the soldiers in the courtyard in a sick display of joy and anticipation. In the corner of her eye,

"Yes!" He screamed, certifying any question of his lack of sanity. "Finally, we will have justice!"

'What justice?' Was what Robin wanted to scream back, but an internal hypothetical debate with a madman incapable of forming a justifiable argument is the last thing the Shepherds tactician needed to occupy herself with.

"Executioner! If you would be so kind…" was what Gangrel shouted, but Robin could hardly hear it over her own shrill and sudden scream, as she tore herself to her feet

"Flavia!" For a second she feared the Khan, wherever she was on the soon to be battlefield, had not heard her cry, but the axe that flew through the air and killed Emmeryn's executioner said otherwise.

Emmeryn was alone up there. The field was set, and their targets lay in their sight. Robin drew her sword.

"Everyone!" She bellowed, pointing south to the barricade set up around the corner. "Now!"

The reaction was instant, the shepherds around Robin jumping to their feet, weapons drawn, bounding into a run. Some south, some detouring, like Sumia, for their beasts.

As they moved it was Chrom's, and then Gangrel's voice that egged them on.

"Take out all the soldiers first! We'll deal with the Mad King later!" Chrom shouted to Robin as he charged ahead into the coming onslaught of barbarians, mages and others. In the distance, up the stairs, Gangrel cackled.

"Oh, will you now? We've been expecting you, Little Prince. Men: Kill him. Kill his sister. Kill his troops and his friends and anyone else you find! Kill them all!" Spoken like a true madman, Gangrel gave the official shout before, like a true coward, he rushed back into the palace, with his little witch Aversa at his side.

They'd get to him soon enough.

"Lissa! Keep with Chrom, make sure he doesn't get himself killed!" Robin ordered the princess, who took off in hot pursuit of her brother, Lon'qu and the other warriors on foot who had charged at the enemy line.

Robin began running herself, shouting orders as she prepared her Arclightning tome. Her heart was beating in her ears.

"Miriel, Ricken, take out the archers! We need room for Sumia and Cordelia! You two, don't you dare take flight until they're dead." Her orders were followed, as she kept running, finding easy footing despite the sand.

This was it.

"Frederick!?–" She started but was swiftly silenced as the knight stormed past (albeit slower than usual) on his horse, towards Chrom.

He knew what he was doing, taking a swing with his hammer as he passed a foe. A foe who, despite taking the hit, kept running with his axe drawn. Beelining for Robin.

The tactician stopped in her tracks, and steadied herself tome in hand, face like stone.

And so the battle began.

Robin learned swiftly that blood didn't sink into mud or snow quite the way it sank into sand.

Maybe it was the way the sun burned it, or the texture of the grains altogether, but when blood hit sand it seemed all that drier. Or at the very least, far worse than how it looked dripping from a blade of grass.

And the heat didn't help either.

Robin fired off another lightning spell, bringing the swordsman that sprinted at her to a screaming, crackling end. He smelt like a pig on an open fire, his body like a charred log at the centre of its pit. He didn't look like a person anymore.

He was not the only corpse on the battlefield.

The ruins towered over the shepherds as they drew ever closer to the palace's entrance. The group ahead having passed what seemed to be the little blockade formed, with the courtyard gate ahead. They'd only been fighting 10 minutes.

Behind and beside her, Robin saw countless bodies felled by her and her comrades. Stuck with arrows, cut to shreds or simply left smouldering after a particularly nasty fireball a la Miriel. The archers and the barbarians are long gone. Only mages, and the Plegian general lay ahead.

Something about the way Robin fought was grittier than normal. Maybe it was all the self-reflection, maybe it was the location and it's circumstances. But the corpses she left behind were dead far quicker than normal.

She attributed it to her seething, built-up anger.

None of the dead littering the sands were friends or shepherds. So without need to mourn, Robin took another few steps through the sand to focus on what was ahead of her.

In the distance was Chrom. Frederick, Sumia and Cordelia. Robin can pick them out easily, with the first's hair and the latter's mounts. But that's all she could define from this distance, as the enemies that managed to break through the line ahead thundered in her direction.

For the seventh time this battle alone, a Plegian soldier chooses to die at the hands of a mage powered through hostility alone.

Robin didn't even know why she was so angry, or what she was angry at as she drew her bronze sword and struck down on brigands neck. The war? The mistreatment of her friends family? Plegia as a whole? Herself? Frederick? She could not put a finger on it.

All she knew was that those who were getting in her way now with cruel intentions would pay for it. With her crude swordsmanship, that made death far messier than it probably should have been.

The man who charged at her, screaming profanities, is dead. Cut up silently as Robin struck repeatedly with only grunts escaping her, as she felled him. Leaving him a butchered mess in the sand.

It took the woman's entire resolve not to vomit on the spot. Robin was on a battlefield, she could not afford to mourn for slain enemies who'd have done the same to her. Still, it was difficult for her to not stare at what once was a person, instead of looking away.

Someone noticed this.

And it wasn't someone she knew.

"Looking a bit green, are we?" A drawling voice drew Robin out of her haze. Bringing her blinking to reality as she looked up. Where she found her eyes locking with a dark-haired, scantily clad woman. In dark mage robes.

She drew her sword.

"Who are you?!" Obviously, the mage wanted to talk. Robin wasn't in the mood for any witty mid-fight banter. Luckily the woman seemed to share that sentiment, she waved her hand as she walked forward, unarmed.

"Don't worry. I'm no threat to you. Think of me as a friend." Robin's sword lowered just a bit as she eyed up the woman, who walked past her and started to circle the still-warm body.

"You're wearing Plegian robes," Robin stated bluntly, sword still in hand as the woman knelt down, and pulled a small knife from the man's belt. Before Robin could react, she stashed it on her belt and stood back up.

"Yes, awful things, aren't they? Like I said before, you've nothing to fear from me. Your blue-haired friend is quite persuasive. And you are… fascinating."

"I, sorry— what?" Was all Robin said before, all in a flash, the woman drew an unfamiliar purple tone, and raised a hand. A hand that swiftly lit up with dark purple energy, and pointed in her direction.

Death.

It's what Robin awaits. For her heart that was beating irregularly to suddenly halt. For her heaving breaths from exertion to let out one final gasp. Death is what Robin had somewhat expected out here.

But death does not come to Robin, the bolt of dark magic from the woman's hand flew past Robin's ear and met its target, instantly killing another Plegian soldier behind her. His axe that he'd raised over her head falling uselessly to the floor.

Robin let out a heavy breath as the body twitched in the ground, her feet stumbling back two steps as she returned her gaze back to the mage woman. She looked pleased with herself.

"Do try to stay alive. I quite like the look of you." Robin is unable to parse a single word the woman says. She does not understand why she was being talked to by a strange individual, or even how she'd come to suddenly align herself with Robin's cause.

She only knew two things. The first, that this woman had just saved her life. And the second, that a creepy Plegian dark mage staring at her with googly eyes was the least of her problems right now.

Which was saying something.

In the seconds that had passed during their conversation, Chrom had broken through the main line of defence. He was almost out of view, charging towards the steps with Frederick and Lissa hot on his tail.

Robin needed to be up there, now.

"They— I'm needed up ahead. You— who are you?!" She shouted the question as she began to move up, looking back and forth a few times. The woman simply smiled.

"My name is Tharja." Tharja. Okay.

"Robin. I'm Robin." Tharja raised a brow, and for a second, Robin noticed the look on her face drop for just a second, before returning to the same almost menacing smile as before.

"Well, Robin, I have a feeling we'll be seeing much of each other soon." Okay. Creepy. But still, very much the least of her problems.

"If we survive this." She shot back

"We won't if you dawdle." Right. Chrom. The plan. She needed to get moving, and far away from this strange woman.

Which was exactly what Robin did.

"Be seeing you!" Tharja called after Robin, who debated for a second if the woman was aware of how entirely threatening she came off as.

She hadn’t come up with an answer to that as she approached Chrom, who was just finishing off a particularly brave and particularly stupid man with an axe, that now lay useless and blood-soaked in the sand.

Frederick and Lissa stood nearby, with the latter healing a nasty gash on the arm of the former. A pang hit Robin’s stomach when she looked at the wound but quickly left as soon as it had come when her eyes met with Fredericks. She very swiftly looked away, and at the battle scene.

The barricade was practically non-existent. Sharpened sticks and traps lay broken on the ground, and unfamiliar bodies lay scattered, with the only breathing enemies to the left, far ahead and guarding the steps up to the palace.

Breathing heavily, Robin gave the prince a withering look as he came to her side.

"Chrom, who on earth did I just talk to?" With ne’er a second for him to greet her, Robin began her line of questioning immediately. Sweet, bloodsoaked Chrom responded with a tilt of his head. Like a small, confused dog.

"Libra? He said he was the religious type—"

"Not the priest, Chrom, the ominous Dark Mage!" She snapped and ignored the implication that he'd recruited more than one person in a matter of ten minutes. In the corner of her eye, Lissa and, shockingly, Frederick perked up at her words. Finally, she'd got his attention.

"Oh, Tharja? I met her a few paces back. She wants to help." Robin’s face blanched. Yes, the woman had helped she supposed. And yes, she had certainly seemed to bear no ill will towards Robin or Chrom, as it seemed. But still—

"She's a Plegian." Robin hissed, but not quiet enough to escape the ears of Frederick who came up to stand beside her. The poor woman’s breath and speech suddenly caught in her throat, with her heart.

Robin half regretted starting such a discussion on a battlefield, but the other half screamed internally at the jeopardy the plan could have been put in had Chrom chosen the wrong Plegian to trust.

Regardless, she learned then when or when not to start an argument of this kind.

"She's a what? Milord—" Frederick started what would have likely been another legendary round of scolding, were it not for the sudden reminder that the four were, indeed, in the middle of a bloodbath.

"Look out!" A voice unfamiliar to the conversation shouted, and before Robin could even begin a search of what to look for, a shadow cast over the group, dropping in front of them with a shield that promptly blocked the bolt of fire, which had been cast at the group for some distance.

Robin swallowed heavily and looked to her body and arms. Free of burns, which was not something that could be said for her opponents earlier. Ones who had met their ends at the hands of the exact same spell, that had just fired her way. She looked to Lissa, Chrom and even Frederick. All unharmed. And then took a shaky breath.

Were it not for the intrusion, they would have all been dead.

Robin looked to their saviour, high on her pegasus, looking over the four with great concern.

"Woah! Sumia, thank you!” Chrom spoke in a voice that was free of fear, and laden with awe. Adrenaline got the better of Robin, the blood in her ears blocked her hearing for a good five seconds as he looked behind her and confirmed the rest of their shepherds, alive, and making their way to their position at their own pace.

They hadn’t lost anyone yet.

“—Frederick, we'll talk about this another time." Robin tuned in just in time to turn back, where she found Chrom behind Sumia on her horse. The pegasus rider looked to the final enemies far ahead, and then to Emmeryn. She stood alone at the cliff, awaiting the rescue which Robin had planned.

Robin’s hand lunged forward, grabbing the flier’s ankle and her attention as she looked down to the tactician, who spoke firmly.

“Phila will cover her. You get Chrom to that general, and the army will fall.” There was a reluctance in Chrom’s eyes, and Robin understood. He wanted to get to his sister as soon as possible. But they couldn’t risk it until the army was gone.

Wordlessly, Sumia took off again. Her pegasus kicked up sand as it surged, keeping to a low glide across the sand dunes. It left Frederick, Lissa and Robin to watch the two soar over the approaching enemies. As Robin drew her tome once more, Lissa spoke.

“I need to make sure nobody’s hurt. Maribelle can’t handle it alone, are you sure you two—” She began but was swiftly cut off by both Frederick and Robin.

“We’ll be fine.” The two said in unison, sharing a look of sudden surprise as they did. Lissa simply looked between them with hesitant eyes, before she gave way, and began her move backwards.

And then Frederick and Robin were alone. Him atop his horse with his silver lance, and her with her tome and sheer determination.

With a swathe of enemies that approached, ready to come down upon them with years of xenophobic rage and fury.

They were alone with that, and the bubbling frustration he felt towards her. An emotion for which she had planted the seeds for beforehand.

"And I suppose you're thrilled about this new friend of his?" Frederick asked as they prepared themselves, eyes glued to the horizon as their foes closed in.

In the gap it took for Robin to cop onto what he was talking about, she had already engaged with an enemy, the steadfast knight at her back as she took out the sudden frustration on the new target. With more on the move to their location.

"Oh, yes, Frederick." She hissed under her breath as she drove a sword into the throat of an oncoming soldier. A strike that left his body drooping, limp and lifeless. Through the same technique, Frederick had taught her half a month ago. Clearly, this is exactly the outcome she wanted.

"In fact," She said a little louder, swivelling around to send off a fire spell for a change. Charring a distant archer on one side of his body. For a risk to be put upon her plan and reputation that was already so shaky within the group.

"I talked him into this because—" Another soldier surged forward, coming to a halt as she fired off a wind spell with a tome in her coat, stalling him long enough for Frederick to skewer him and end his struggle. Obviously, there was nothing she wanted more than to sabotage the knight and his lieges.

"— clearly I'm a lying, psycho, amnesiac Plegian out to slit your throat." Because the logical summation of her interactions with Frederick so very clearly marked her out as an untrustworthy spy and not. Oh, maybe someone who had a stupid, confusing, misguided crush on him?

As Robin breathed heavily over the newly made corpse, it occurred to her that she had maybe started ranting a little louder than intended. This was evidenced by the seething look that Frederick held her to, his own foes dead at his horse's hooves.

"What was—"

"Robin!" Chrom's voice ended the argument before it began. The two’s onslaught had seemingly not been the only one, as Robin found him and Sumia in the distance, with the general lay dead on the steps. He pointed behind her, a gesture that lead her gaze to where they came, where Virion and Miriel stood amongst dead bodies and great, bleeding, unmoving hulks of scales. The rest of the shepherds had nearly caught up.

A failed attack from behind, it seemed.

"Their wyvern riders have fallen! The skies are clear! I'm giving the signal!" As Chrom shouted, Robin and Frederick began their push forward to where he and Sumia were, his words lit a fire in Robin’s stomach.

"Alright!" This was it. No more soldiers in the way, no more arguments to be had or sudden new arrivals.

This was it, and Robin— She was so, so sure.

Until she wasn’t.

Everything went according to plan as Phila and her knights flew up to Emmeryn, and Gangrel and Aversa ran back into their sights, only just up the stairs.

Everything was so, so perfect. As Robin reached Chrom’s side, her chest alight with pride as Phila reached out to take the Exalts hand. Everything was perfect.

And then cracked, rotting, dead hands sprung forth from the sands at Aversa’s feet. Littering the courtyard in their tens, soon to be hundreds.

And perfect it was no more.

“...Risen?! Oh gods, no! Chrom!” Robin shrieked, gripping the prince’s arm as his face turned a sickly white. They and the shepherds behind them stood frozen at the courtyard gates.

It was okay. The group was close together. Robin lunged into her coat holsters and pockets for a fire tome— one that could blast them to pieces before they drew their bows and aimed at Phila and— Oh, gods.

All it took was one arrow. A

n arrow that struck quick and true at the heart of Phila’s pegasi, killing it instantly before she could raise her hand to clasp Emmeryn’s.

It was an arrow that left Robin and the others to watch with utter horror as Phila fell, hundreds of feet to her death on the cobblestone below. Her last words lost in the wind, and her body obscured by that of her fallen beast.

She was the first of them to fall, all the rest dead within ten seconds. Their own cries masked by the screams that left Cordelia’s lungs. The redhead lunged forward, off her mount and towards the steps but Robin caught her, pulling her back into a half hug, half grapple.

“No no no…” Robin cried to herself and to her friend as she held her back, serving as a pillar for which Chrom leaned against as the risen turned their attention to the shepherds. Gangrel danced down the steps, among the bleeding corpses.

Emmeryn was still suspended upon the cliff. Alive, but no one knew for how long.

They no longer had control over that.

“We've lost…” Chrom’s voice was broken, and Robin who still held a weeping Cordelia looked around with the desperation of a dying woman. Something she supposed she was about to be.

Not yet, not yet. There had to be something.

“I believe this is what they call a reversal of fortunes. Now...grovel before me. Plead! Beg for your worthless lives!” Gangrel sang to them with a voice laced in sick malice, Aversa herself lurking at his side. Risen were still pulling themselves from the grounds and sands, their rot making it impossible to tell when exactly these once-people had died.

“I'd give up my life before I'd beg for it from you.” Chrom bared his teeth and took a step towards the stairs before Frederick stopped him, grabbing his arm with a vice of a grip.

“Oh, now THAT is a good line. A fitting epitaph for your tombstone, perhaps? But it's not just your life in the balance. The exalt still stands upon the block. And I have a dozen bows trained on her. All it would take is one word from me…” Robin’s stomach dropped, and Frederick’s grip on Chrom’s arm faltered enough to break free. His eyes on the exalt, and stone face completely devoid of the stone wall Robin was used to.

Frederick looked afraid.

And that terrified Robin.

“Emm! Hold on, I'm—”

“Archers! If this Ylissean pup so much as twitches, let fly your arrows!” Gangrel with all his disgusting wit was quick to shut down any words from Chrom, who stood in front of Robin still shaking and seething.

It was another horrifying moment, where Robin was reminded that that was his sister up there. And Lissa’s.

“I... I'll kill you!” He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. Even Robin couldn’t see a winning move here. And Gangrel knew it.

“Go ahead! I welcome it. Just know you were responsible for Big Sister's bloody demise! ...And what of the rest of you? Eh? Who wants the honour of killing the exalt?” The shepherds did nothing but stand. Silent, seething, itching to strike, but…

“...No one? Bah! Your merry band isn't quite so headstrong anymore, is it? Pathetic!” This was pathetic. It was ridiculous, and most importantly it wasn’t supposed to have happened.

Robin just… let it happen.

“Damn you!” She hadn’t planned far enough ahead.

“Now, now, my boy—no one needs die today. Not you. Not the exalt. Not your friends. Just lay down your sword, and give me the Fire Emblem.” This was her fault.

“...I...” Chrom started. The Fire Emblem. Robin hadn’t even thought much of it being in their possession. Sure enough, it hung at Chrom’s belt safely.

But how long would that be for? Robin could see he was thinking, and let go of Cordelia, grabbing onto the prince’s shoulder with desperate force.

“Chrom! You can't trust him!” There was no telling what Gangrel would do, and Chrom knew that as he whirled around to her, letting out his anger.

“Of course I can't trust him! I'm not an idiot! But if I just say no, he'll kill her!”

They couldn’t let Emmeryn die. But they couldn’t just give up the Emblem.

“There has to be a way…” She only half believed her words as she looked to the forces they were dealing with. If she could somehow get Virion in line to take out one of the archers… she and Miriel could handle the others… the risen… Frederick could...

“If there is, I can't see it... gods!” Chrom’s hand went to the Emblem, and Gangrels patience ran out. Throwing out an arm and pointing to Chrom, his manic voice echoing throughout the courtyard.

“I will count to three! Throw down your weapons, or your exalt becomes the world's largest quiver.” No…

“One!” Robin looked at her friends.

“Two!” There had to be something.

“Three—” This couldn’t be it.

“—No, wait!” A voice, gentle but impressive called down to them from the heavens. Like an angel sent from above.

“Emm…” Murmured Chrom.

“Silence!” Gangrel shrieked in an effort to shut her up, but Emmeryn continued.

“King Gangrel, is there no hope you will listen to reason?” Truly? She was trying even now for peace? Even Gangrel looked shocked before that gave way to the same ghoulish grin. He wasn’t about to listen.

“You mean listen to more of your sanctimonious babble?! I think not. No, all I want to hear now is the THUNK of arrows, and a SPLAT as you hit the ground. Take one, long, last look from your perch. You do so enjoy looking down on people... Then prepare to meet the ground and your maker! That is unless someone were to give me the Emblem... now!” Gangrel was approaching, along with his army of dead. An icy feeling settled in Robin's stomach as he came closer. There was no reason he would listen to, there was no solution.

He only halted when Chrom thrust out a protective arm, acting as a barrier between the madman and his friends.

"All right! All right..." He shouted to the king, and Robin's heart dropped as his head angled upwards, and called to his older sister.

"Emm, I know you won't approve, but this is my final decision. Maybe someday we'll face a crisis where maybe the Emblem would've helped... But I know for a fact that Ylisse needs you, today! The people need their exalt... And we need our sister. If those dark days should come, we'll face them together." Spoken like a true little brother, Robin's heart ached as Chrom pleaded with Emmeryn. Hoping with all her heart that Emmeryn could hear him, and the hopes of her people from all the way down where they stood.

And she did.

Emmeryn, with all the elegance of sleek cat, or graceful deer took a step forward, right to the cliff's edge, and then called to the palace, the army and the city. Her words so loud it seemed they echoed across the entire desert, and the entire country.

"Plegians! I ask that you hear the truth of my words! War will win you nothing but sadness and pain, both inside your borders and out. Free yourselves from this hatred! From this cycle of pain and vengeance. Do what you must... As I will do. See now that one selfless act has the power to change the world!" And then, to Robin's utter horror, she took another step off.

Right off the platform.

And Robin squeezed her eyes shut.

Whatever happened next Robin didn't see. She heard it, viscerally so. The screams of anguish, the sound of Chrom taking off towards her falling form, Lissa's blood-curdling scream.

And then a sickening fusion between a wet crack and a heavy thud.

Her eyes opened.

"Oh, gods…" Emmeryn's body lay on the palace's decrepit flagstones. Broken, bloodied and unmoving. Half blocked by Chrom's form, which had dropped down to his knees.

Gangrels voice mixed with the sounds of open sobs and weeping.

They'd lost.

Emmeryn was dead.

Robin had failed them.

"Well now! ...How disgustingly noble. And so lovely a fall! Here I thought death to be an ugly thing. I've never seen one fall so gracefully, in fact. ...And I've seen many fall. Ah... So ends Emmeryn, Ylisse's most exalted! But how can we ensure everyone remembers this beautiful moment of her sacrifice? Perhaps we should gather up her body and put it on display!"

As he ranted Robin moved sluggishly, but determined, towards Chrom, her hands grabbing at his shoulders as the risen drew closer. But Chrom didn’t care, he rose to his feet to challenge the Plegian king again.

"Gangrel! You die today!" Robin isn't the one to argue with him this time. Instead, a familiar voice that was absent during the fight announced itself, bringing with it, hope.

"No, boy! I secured an escape route! We have to flee!" Basilio called to the pair from the steps, the shepherds standing behind him in various states of distress. Sobbing, yelling, pulling weapons and shouting.

Frederick just stared at the dead body of the Exalt.

Somehow this put a kick into Robin’s stomach. A last push over the edge, as she pulled Chrom with all her might, dragging him back to the steps down to the desert, away from the enemies they could not fight.

"B—but...her body... I have to…" He argued weakly. Basilio had none of it, pushing him forward once Robin had gotten him to the stairs, rushing him and the other shepherds back to the sands.

"You have to RUN! Now! Robin! Don't let him do anything stupid!" The western Khan ordered her as she did a quick headcount, before returning to pulling Chrom by the hand.

“I won’t. I—" Basilio pushed her along and into Frederick, who didn't complain about her presence as he took Chrom with one hand, Lissa's arm already in his grip, taking the last of his lieges far, far away from here. Robin followed them.

“Go!”

They did. They sprinted from the Plegian castle. From its courtyard soaked in blood. From the bodies of those who had to be left behind. From Phila. From Emmeryn. They ran, without stopping, away from the capitol. Away from their empty camp into the unknown.

Some piled onto the others horses and pegasi, with others firing spells, arrows and javelins at whoever or whatever dared follow them.

Robin stayed behind Frederick and struggled through the sand, her legs growing weaker with each step.

In the silence, she cried.

Robin cried because she knew this was her fault. That she hadn't thought of everything as she prided herself on doing. That this failure had cost a life so dear and important.

Robin cried for Ylisse, for Emmeryn, for her friends.

Robin cried because there was nothing else she could do.

She cried quietly to herself, for those who'd misplaced their trust in her. And with them, she ran.

Chapter Text

It was as if the earth itself was mourning Emmeryn.

From the moment they’d reached the ravine at the edge of the desert, the sky had opened up. Weeping water that soaked the shepherds to the bone, and left them as cold on the outside as they felt in themselves.

Mud sloshed down the sides of the trench, seeping into Robin’s torn leather boots. The rain and mud had ripped through what little protection her coat served, and her body was both numb and aching.

They'd ran and ran. Heaving their heavy bodies up sand dunes and through rocky passes. Even after they could no longer see the Plegians or the ruins in the distance, they just kept running.

Worn, weary and half-dead the shepherds kept pushing themselves. Even as the weather ripped them to shreds. Even as the bones of giant, long-dead creatures grew more numerous around them, arching into the blackened, clouded sky like an omen of death.

Robin hadn’t said a single thing since they’d left the bleeding bodies of their comrades far behind.

“Hurry! There should be carriages waiting just through the ravine!” Basilio called out from the front, as Robin dragged her feet through the mud that was getting deeper and deeper. Sucking at her feet, inviting her to find a final resting place. Cold, wet, where no one else would ever discover her bones.

She didn’t stop moving. Somehow, she willed herself to take another step. One by one till she was at the front. Barely able to see through the water running in rivulets down her face.

“Chrom,” The prince stood still as Basilio begged them to keep moving. His eyes locked onto some animal remains at his feet, washed up by all the water. Robin reached out but thought better of it.

It was her fault they were here.

“Please.” Was she begging him to keep on moving? Or looking for forgiveness? Even she didn’t know as his head snapped up to look at her.

“I’m… I’m coming.” There was nothing but emptiness in his words. Matted, blue hair hanging so low on his face that Robin could barely see his eyes.

They kept moving.

What would happen now?

Robin knew the answer. Ahead they’d find the carriages. They’d go back to Regna Ferox and there…

There she would admit her failings to the shepherds. Accept responsibility for the utterly failed plan. Maybe she’d face exile. Maybe she’d be executed.

As if her life could hardly cover that of every single Ylissean she’d let down.

Cover that of Emmeryn’s.

Robin wiped her nose and spat crimson into the mud as she kept moving.

She knew how little she was worth now.

-

Frederick kept to the back of the marching order, after their escape.

'Escape'

It was a cowardly retreat.

Were the man not so utterly ripped up with grief he would have laughed, bitterly so. But here? Watching the backs of his companions slog through the mud? Forced to see them falter, and drop every stretch of the way? All he could do was stare ahead as they kept moving.

There was no laughter.

Just brown sludge, made of dirt and remains. Threatening to trap their feet and take away their pain for good.

Frederick... he simply felt empty.

Leading his exhausted horse through the mud, he picked up the pace. Weaving through shepherds with their heads hanging, pushing up to the front line. They would be at their rendezvous soon.

As a knight, he had trained for this. Expected it, even. It had haunted his darkest nightmares ever since he'd first taken his vow of protection. To witness the death of Emmeryn…

His fists gripped the leather lead attached to his horse, fingers curling so tight they were likely white-knuckled beneath his armour. Blood drained, like her crumpled corpse.

Frederick could still see Emmeryn’s body falling in his mind, every time he shut his eyes to wipe away the endless water. Falling as fast as the raindrops in the sky around him. The way they hit the ground and broke into smaller droplets was not unlike what happened to she who he could not save.

His stomach churned, and his chest nearly caved.

“Ser.” A voice took him out of his toxic thoughts, and brought his gaze downwards to Donnel, the village boy, standing by Frederick’s horse with wringing hands.

“Up ahead, there’s—” Is all the boy can get out before Frederick is moving up, weaving his horse quickly between the shepherds, all stopping in their tracks at the sound of shouting up ahead.

Swearing quietly under his breath, he picks up the pace. He never should have stayed as long as he had keeping watch from the back. He should have stayed with Chrom and Lissa.

There were so many things he should have done.

“Don't speak her name!” Chrom's anger was vicious, biting at the Plegian soldiers who'd cut the path with such force they hesitated. One even stepping back.

A bellowing voice responds to the prince, with a lack of enthusiasm one would not expect from an enemy general facing what looked to be an easy win.

“Your rage is justified, Prince Chrom. But the meaning of your sister's final sacrifice was not lost on me. I suspect many Plegians who heard her final words would say the same. If you lay down your weapons, I vow to protect you as best I can.”

Frederick challenged the general’s words before either his charges could speak.

Did the Plegians expect them to fall to their knees? Grovel like dogs?

“How can we trust you after what your barbarous king has done? I think we shall take our chances with weapons in hand!” He knows not who or what he is shouting to. In the far distance, through the unending barrage of rain, he sees what could be forts hanging to the edges of the ravine. Weeping mud like blood from an open wound.

Hidden, mobile figures. With Plegian colours.

He knows not who he is talking to, no, but he knows that their time in this world was to come to a swift end if the knight is given the chance.

“I suspected you would say as much. So be it, Prince Chrom. I shall endeavour to grant you a swift and dignified end.” Reluctantly, who he assumed to be the general, replied. Reluctant, remorseful maybe. But not enough so to grant mercy, it seemed.

That was fine by Frederick. He wasn't going to back down from this fight.

The general’s words were a bell, signalling a need for action, swords were pulled. Tomes were raised, and all hell broke loose in the deluged, rotting ravine.

The first Plegian went downed in an instant. His body hit the ground with a wet slap as Robin and Chrom both surged forward. His friend was quick to meet a similar fate.

Rage coursed through Chrom’s veins, as Frederick watched the prince swing and move with less regard for what was around him than normal. Cutting figure after figure down as his feet moved at a speed no exhausted man should be capable of. And Robin…

She had no risk in the war against Plegia, if what she had told the group was true. But as Frederick pushed his horse further into the scattered Plegians, he found her fighting with the same vicious vigour as his lord.

Thoron after thoron fired out of her hands, a tome clutched to her chest as she hissed incantations through gritted teeth.

A quick look backwards told Frederick that the rest of the Shepherds were moving up, weapons at the ready, but they did not match the speed of Chrom, Robin and he. The first two quickly getting out of Frederick’s own range, and deeper into the thick of combat. Where he would not be able to keep an eye on either.

Having left earshot of the Shepherds, Robin was unable to give orders. And without orders, they were going to be headless. It was already happening, as they moved to work in pairs. In small groups. But not as one cohesive unit, forcing forwards through the enemy line.

They were manic. Frantic. Taking on solitary foe after solitary foe instead of taking the moment to calculate. To think.

And they wouldn't, until either every enemy in their vicinity was dead, or their tactician finally came to her senses.

Cursing under his breath, the knight tugged on his horses’ lead, getting his lance at the ready.

They would not lose anyone else today.

-

Red and brown was all Robin saw. Splattering her body and face, as each man Chrom cut down let out their final gurgling breaths, meeting a messy end.

The rain obscures all. Sound, sight, even smell. Wetting her hair, sticking it to her face and over her eyes. The only way she can tell blood from the water is whether it hits her skin hot or cold.

She hardly heard what the general said. She hardly even heard what Frederick said in return, and she always listened so desperately for the sound of his voice. She heard nothing, and yet she was so very angry.

"We need to take out their general." Through laboured breaths, Chrom spoke to her, a hand firmly grasping her shoulder. In the other, Falchion hung limply, it's tip grazing the ground. Dead bodies littered the ground around them. Maybe… 3?

She… she paused. She didn't know how many lives she had simply ended there. Simply, like sticking a fork into food or taking a step.

Robin felt like— she knew… she should have kept count of that.

"Okay." Was all she heaved out as the hand left her shoulder, and the prince turned to look down the ravine.

Mud. And more soldiers.

Plegians.

"Chrom." She coughed, her lungs burning. The prince simply grabbed her shoulder and pushed forward. With an unending strength.

With a formidable rage.

"Can you fight?" Could she? She didn't know how much more she could take. Blood was forming behind her teeth, under her tongue. Her head pounded.

"I want to fight." Through gritted teeth she grunted, watching as the prince’s eyes hardened.

"We'll make them pay." He promised, wiping blood from a cut on his cheek, before looking ahead.

"We need to keep moving."

Drawing her tome, Robin didn't argue back.

Running a good half a hundred meters, nearly falling in a few puddles on the way, Robin struck the next victim of her anger with brutal force.

The Plegian likely didn't even see them coming. He certainly didn't see the wet, exposed chunk of bone sticking from the ground behind him, as it caught his foot, sending his body to the ground in time with a quick bolt of lightning.

Any pain from the impact was swiftly ended by the end of Chrom's sword.

As he pulled the sword from the body, he looked to Robin, mouth opening as he began to form some sentence.

The words died on his tongue as his eyes locked behind her.

"Robin!"

Her hot blood turned to ice.

She knew that voice.

His voice.

-

"Robin–" Thundering hundreds meters ahead, past many fresh corpses, Frederick travelled further into the ravine. The smell of wet, burnt flesh and sight of cut-up corpses was nothing new to him. But even with a quick glance, he could see that every hit the two ahead had landed was rushed. Sloppy, and without thought.

It was a wonder they made it as far as they had, Frederick surmising they had to be at least halfway down the seemingly endless ravine.

It was here he found his liege, and Robin, mid-combat he knight yelled to the tactician who had downed the nearest enemy, sending mud spraying through the air.

"Robin!" He shouted again, and this time she heard him, whipping around, leaving her back completely open. Without Robin, and only a cursory glance to Frederick, Chrom in all his recklessness pushed onwards.

"What?!" Her silver hair that was always pinned up into two neat pigtails hung free, wild, and matted. Blood, dried and fresh stained her ripped clothing, mixed with brown sludge. Dirt marked her face, and her eyes held him in a wide-eyed stare.

She looked feral.

"Stop this, you're going to get yourself killed." She sneered at his words– maybe. It was hard to tell through all the mud and rain.

"I know what I'm doing!" She lied to him. He knew that wasn't true.

If it was, then she wasn't the tactician they'd all thought she was.

"No you don't, you're putting yourself and others in danger!" Simply standing here, not moving while their comrades threw themselves into battle, was bad enough. It was taking all the strength in Frederick's body not to tear off after Chrom without Robin, but he stayed.

Robin stared at him, chest heaving, and fingers twitching. She looked like a drowned rat, spoke at the volume of a field mouse, the tone carrying a hiss like a venomous snake.

"Just let me do this." Frederick had seen Robin do many things. He'd seen her shy away, and stare from afar. He'd seen her run into battle, and kill.

But he'd never seen the woman break.

"You–" Lightning balling at her fingers shut him up, as she began to lean in the direction Chrom had run off to.

"I said I'd end it! I promised Cordelia– I promised you that I would end this! All of you! And I didn't!" The magic in her hands pulsated like an erratic heartbeat, and for a second Frederick wonders if he's about to be on the receiving end of it, before it dies in her hands. And her words sink in.

"This is all I've ever known,"

"This is all I've ever known and I ruined it." Staring right into his eyes she choked out words that hit him harder than any lightning bolt.

How was it, that even in a state like this, it was with a single sentence, she'd knocked the wind out of him. Knocked an unsightly truth from the back of his mind into the light. Ugly, and glaring.

An existence with its only roots in a role. A person no deeper than an occupation that they tied themselves to. All worth and knowledge of oneself and the world around them based on a job.

A job that came set orders that she'd failed.

Why was it that Frederick could find just a fraction of that so familiar?

"I have to do something right." In the time between Frederick freezing, and now Robin had fractured, just a little. Becoming a hunched form, shaking and small, still capable of lashing out like a cornered animal.

To lash out and beg him, in one breath.

Though he was loathe –sick to his stomach– to admit it Frederick found himself pleading back.

"You will stay with me, while I follow him." How odd, for him to be asking something of her in a situation like this.

She didn't answer back, and she wasn't clueless, for there was no question as to the 'him' Frederick described. He, who was seemingly looking to meet a bloody end no different than his older sister. Who's hysteria had created a feedback loop with Robin, both fueling the other in a bitter, detrimental way.

"Robin. You're our tactician. Act like it."

"I–" He stared down at her from his horse, face like stone.

"Robin." He barked, and then sighed.

"This is still your job." Two heartbeats thud in his chest in quick succession, his body still tense and aware of the dangerous setting.

She seceded.

"Fine." She agreed like a brat, but she agreed. Challenging him while aligning with him. His teeth gritted, and his blood boiled, and for once it wasn't because of the coming onslaught.

Frederick is unsure whether he preferred the time where she didn't speak to him at all.

"Give me your hand. You'll ride with me." Robin stops for a moment, wondering if she'd indeed heard Frederick correctly.

The panic was gone.

Her brain, still muddled, paused as thoughts weighed in her head and fogged her mind like she having a lucid moment in a burning fever.

Whatever panic that had impeded her critical thinking was slipping away, being overwhelmed by adrenaline. Things were getting sharper, quicker, faster.

That didn't necessarily mean she was thinking any clearer.

"You–" She began, with her breath catching in her throat but clearly sick of the pause and eager to get things moving, Frederick simply leaned down, grabbed her by the back of her coat and just lifted her. Just lifted her up, and placed her on his horse. Like it was the easiest thing in the world.

"We don't have time for this." He placed Robin in the front, her back against his cold, iron armour. His arms around her, he held tightly to the horses’ lead.

Robin swallowed her feelings, and focused on the distant Chrom, charging ahead. And then the two clashing forces behind.

The rest of the shepherds were too far back, dealing with a group of fliers that had spilt over the ravine’s edge, lances in hand. Robin had no doubt they'd dispatch of them easily, but not quickly. At least, not quickly enough.

"If we wait for the others, it will give the enemy time to bunch up into formation. I don't know how many there are left. We can't risk being outnumbered." As she spoke, Robin became hyper-aware of Frederick's hot breath on the back of her neck.

"So what would you suggest?" Something easy. An order she knew he'd find more than satisfactory.

"We follow Chrom. Tail him, take out anything flanking him and… take the hit if we need to." Without hesitation, the horse began to canter, picking up speed as it tore through the mud which was dripping from Robin's hanging boots.

The rain was clearing up.

"You're willing to do that?" Frederick asked, and her eyes averted his, looking back to where they were moving. Her fingers tangled in the horse’s mane, holding on for dear life.

Take a hit? Of course.

She nodded, eyes on Chrom, far ahead.

"For him." For you.

By the time they reached him, Chrom had embroiled himself in a battle against three foes. Though two wore Plegian garbs, one was without marking nor armour, dressed in a hood and wielding a knife, which swung with gusto at the prince’s throat.

It occurred to Robin for the first time that, here, so close to the sea, the two warring countries aren't the only ones to be dancing along the borderline.

Without a hint of remorse, she raised her tome and cast an arc-lightning, locking up the joints of the nearest soldier for just enough time to let Frederick ride by, knocking the man to his feet with his horse.

"Quickly!" He yelled, and Robin, though loathe to leave him, swung her legs around and off of the horse, landing unevenly in the mud, not far from where Chrom was dispatching his final foe. As Robin scrambled for her bronze sword, finally putting an end to her foe writhing on the ground, the prince acknowledged them.

"I was fine!" He insisted, swivelling around before the soldier he'd sliced had even begun falling. Robin opened her mouth and then stalled, immediately on what to say.

Frederick was there to fill in her blanks.

"You were reckless." He chided, still atop his horse as he looked down on the prince. Chrom, in turn, stared up at him, desperation the fuel behind his eyes, and every movement.

"I need to kill him, Frederick! Or he'll kill us all!" Staring past him, Robin notes that they aren't far. Though it was hard to see, there was a single fort at the end of the horizon, where the muddy ravine walls veered down and became the exit they were aiming for.

That, she surmised, was where the general was preparing his stand.

"You cannot do that alone." She tuned back in just in time to catch Frederick's gravel-like tone scolding Chrom. His voice was hoarse, and worn, much like his exterior.

"I will not allow you to do that alone." Softer, like a father to a son. Robin wished she'd not tuned in at all now. Her eyes flickered away from the two, staring each other down still. Robin did her best to not feel like a sudden intruder.

"I have to protect them. If I lose Lissa like…" He trailed off, and Robin knew who he was thinking about. Her stomach shrunk like a dried grape.

"Are you protecting her by running ahead? Risking your life?"

"I can't turn back now." Back and forth the two went, but Robin's focus diverted again. Against her will, her eyes were driven away from the tense conversation and into the distance, where the forms of soldiers moved.

They gathered and prepared.

Faraway almost, Robin heard the sloshing of mud and raised voices as the prince and the knight shifted while they argued. But her body and mind otherwise, were turned completely away.

They'd face no more charging enemies, Robin deduced. There wasn't a single figure in the stretch of land between them. Sending anyone else into them would be like sending lambs to the slaughter. The Plegians faced better chances altogether at their fort, and they knew that.

"I'm not asking you to, milord. Simply go at a pace I can keep up with." Robin blinked and looked back just in time to find Frederick, staring right at her.

"Both of you." He added, eyeing Robin for a moment.

A shiver ran down her spine, and she looked to the Plegians.

"We need to move forward together anyway." She told them and swallowed down any hesitancy to share her findings.

"What are you talking about?" Chrom now addressed her, and it was like he was suddenly aware she was there. With a sigh, she walked beside him, and extended a hand, pointing into the far distance.

"They're not coming forward anymore. They're waiting for us." She watched as the prince's eyes focused, and then narrowed.

"They'll have traps," Frederick commented, and Robin bit back her irritation. She wasn't an idiot.

"I know. But there's nowhere else we can go." Once again she stood against him, her eyes followed his as he looked back to where they came.

"We need to wait for the others." No. Absolutely not.

"We don't have time for that!" There was no telling how long it would take for reinforcements to come to their enemy's aid. This was not helped by the fact that they had no idea how far the nearest Plegian outpost was, considering they hadn't even noticed the one in the middle of their path.

He looked between the two, and Robin could feel that same cold frustration seeping into his stare.

The clock was ticking. The Plegians were organizing and every second that past was a second they lost with a better chance in battle, or on the road.

"Please.” She locked eyes with him, unblinking in the seconds that passed.

Frederick sighed. And Robin took that as his answer.

-

It did not take long for the plan to take action.

With little time to spare the prince and the tactician began their approach, falling into formation behind Frederick who, despite his reluctance, pressed on, with nothing else a viable option to him.

In pain, Robin pressed forward.

They reached the measly fort’s defences before any resistance occurred. Weapons at the ready as wooden pikes embedded in the ground, pointing upwards became defences for the Plegians who struck them.

Robin didn't have to shout when Frederick first made contact with the opposing force, letting a deadly blow of his hammer knock the soldier from his feet to the floor.

An arrow flew past Robin’s cheek before she could say a word, leaving a stinging cut in her chin. The spray of blood was lost to the rain as she whipped her head around from side to side, hands shaking. She caught the glimpse of a face, eyes wide in fear before it was gone.

Sidestepping a few pikes as she darted forward, Robin weaved between the wooden stakes to seek out the archer, before they could get too far away.

The pikes were like a thinly spread forest, staying up by sheer luck considering the weak mud that was their base. Through them, Robin could see Frederick and Chrom. She’d already split off from them, but it would only be a moment. Even someone like her could handle this by herself.

It took some quick movement on her bruised feet, but she cornered her target, up against the wall of the ravine, which was still bleeding mud and dirt.

The archer was small and lithe. Most of her features were hidden by her helmet and armour, save two brown eyes, a bloodied nose and a mouth pulled into a grimace of pure and utter terror.

Robin was ready to drop the girl then and there. She should have but—

Her bow lay in the mud beside her.

Raising her hands up to her face, preparing for a blow that did not come, the girl cried out.

“Stop!” She cried, stumbling backwards until she hit the mud, kicking away from where Robin stood. Looming over her.

“Stop, please! I don’t wanna fight!” It was a trick. There was no way this wasn’t a trick but even so, Robin didn’t raise her tome. She did not reach for her sword. She just stood and stared at the girl, hands still shaking.

“What?” She’s worried for a moment that her question is too quiet to be heard over the rain— over the battle and sounds of death and agony. Cries that could belong to Chrom. Or Frederick, and here she was—

“I don’t wanna fight!” The girl repeated, choking on her words in what Robin recognised as a sob. So she was a defector? A coward?

"I don't want to fight! Emmeryn–"

"Emmeryn?” Spitting her words, rage flared up in Robin’s stomach, and it was clearly visible on her face and body as the girl flinched and scrambled back some more, her back unable to press any further against the mud wall.

“Emmeryn is dead. Because of you." Maybe that wasn’t true, though. But it was that much easier to judge them as a collective. And judge them harshly.

Still, faced with the endless wrath of a so far ruthless tactician, the girl made her defence.

“Our general, what he said was true. None of us wants to fight.” Had he said that? Robin didn’t remember much of that confrontation, though it had not even been an hour.

All she remembers, and still feels is the ache in her body and the rain on her skin. All that’s new is the fresh bloodstains.

“But you won’t let us pass.” Her hand moved to her belt, and the girl’s eyes followed it, wide and tearful.

“Because he’ll kill us!” She screamed back at Robin. No question as to who ‘he’ was.

“Gangrel won’t be the one to kill you,” Robin said as she took a steady stance, feet planted firmly in the ground, her sword hilt in her hand. The girl squeezed her eyes shut.

They’d fought because the shepherds had nowhere else to go. Because forwards was the only way to safety. And anything or everything that was in their way with the want to block them was a threat.

Robin breathed shakily and relinquished her grip.

“And neither will I.”

The girl’s eyes snapped open, and she waited. To see if it was a cruel trick or ruse. But Robin only stepped to the side. He hands hanging, weaponless and her stomach sick.
The only threatening thing about this girl was how palpably similar her fear looked to how Robin felt.

Shaking, the soldier slipped by her. Robin could have lashed out. She passed by closely enough. But Robin did not move until the sound of her feet hitting the mud disappeared. Until a voice calling her name caught her ears. And signalled her to a change in atmosphere.

The rain had stopped. And so had the cries of battle.

Robin shut her eyes and took in a deep breath, Chrom’s voice drawing nearer and more frantic before she silenced them with her own, hoarse response.

“I’m okay!” She shouted. Her voice sounded like sandpaper and felt as rough on her throat. The taste of iron hung in her mouth, and she wasn’t surprised to find her spit mixed with blood as she wiped at her lips. The cut on her chin seeping as slow as the small, teeth-marked wound on her lips.

Looking to the ground she saw the mud. So much brown and red. She’d be happy to never see a rainy day again. Or a desert. Or maybe the gore of the battlefield.

That last one was a little too idealistic.

Robin could hear what sounded like Chrom in the distance, walking around in what was likely a search for her. She moved to slip back into the thick wooden spears, but not before picking up the girl’s bow.

It was just a wooden bow. It wasn’t special, it wasn’t mastercrafted. It was just a bow, but for some reason, Robin took it with her anyway.

Through the pikes, she found the makeshift fort entrance. Just some sticks, now littered with bodies of Plegians. None were the girl’s. So it looked like she’d escaped the other way.

It was here that she found Chrom. Bloodied, bruised, but alive. Holding his arm as he walked up to her, eyes assessing her for injuries other than her thousands of superficial cuts.

“Frederick?” She asked, panic spiking in her chest as she could not find the knight or his horse. Chrom quelled her worry with a raised hand, referring to the way they came.

“He’s gone back for the others. They should be able to handle the last of the ambush.” Robin nodded without saying anything and found Chrom’s eyes were still glued to her.

“Where did you go? I was worried.” Her stomach shrivelled in guilt.

“I— I’m sorry, Chrom. There was an archer and I knew if I let her get away then she’d find somewhere to get a clear shot, and…” Then I let her get away anyway. Actively. She didn’t finish her sentence, and Chrom didn’t push her any further, staring down the ravine.

“I didn’t want to kill him.” He said suddenly, looking back to her. Robin blinked.

“The general.” He added, and it clicked. Of course. He was dead. He had to be dead, because they were still standing there, breathing. Somehow, Robin was still alive.

She’s… she’s not so sure if that’s a good thing, or not.

“In the moment I did. I was so angry, I’m still so angry but I—”

“You’re a good man, Chrom. And you did what you needed to do. He didn’t want to kill us, but he would have.” She interrupted. Her mind was beginning to defog, and the adrenaline of battle was waning. By some miracle, she was still standing.

“He was…” And when Chrom didn’t finish, Robin finished for him.

“In the way. Like we were in his. He’d have done anything to keep his men alive. As you’d do anything for your friends.” Her eyes stung, and she wasn’t sure whether it was because of the pit in her chest or the muck in her eyes.

Chrom swallowed, and stared at her with such… focus. His eyes took in her exhausted form, and she took in his. Their breathing was the only sound, in this ravine once alight with screams of pain and battle cries.

“We should meet up with the others,” Robin told him after a few more seconds, anxious to see how the others had fared. Cordelia, Lissa, Sumia, Frederick... Worry clawed at her chest.

Chrom’s eyes shut, and he breathed out.

“We need to keep moving, Chrom.” They snapped open again, and with a half-smile, he started to walk.

Robin followed.

Chapter Text

The Shepherds did not make far from the border before collapsing. The carts carried who and what they could, and their allies did their best in the way of accommodation, but it was only a few hours after their escape from the border that they finally called off the march.

Night had fallen, and they’d found themselves in a forest that the Basilio said far enough into Feroxi territory that they would not be followed. In the dark exhausted hands scrambled to pitch tents, and heal the wounded.

Robin sat in the long grass, watching people walk back and forth with bandages, equipment and the like. With her sword stabbed into the ground beside her, she leaned against it like a pole, her eyes barely open. Her body screamed in agony each time she tried to move. Her hair was wild, clothes dishevelled. But she was alive.

Beside her was Cordelia. Just as slumped, just as tired. Gone was the illusion of a put-together genius. Gone was the woman who swooped in to warn them in that valley, what seemed like lifetimes ago. Instead, a woman with cracked armour and red eyes sat at Robin’s side. A woman who hadn’t spoken a word since they’d reunited. A woman who stared at the ground with hollow eyes that could shed no more tears.

Robin breathed through the fire in her lungs and watched the people go by.

Every bloodstain on their clothes was a mark on her tattered reputation.

“You should go and see Sumia.” Robin croaked, catching the redhead’s attention with her words. Cordelia stared at her, eyes scanning her broken body, and Robin nearly collapsed under the gaze.

“Are you sure?” Are you going to be okay is what she meant. The answer was no. But Robin didn’t bother saying that. Instead, she breathed heavily out and nodded, before heading in the direction of the growing grouping of tents.

“That pink-haired dancer- Basilio’s friend was going to pitch tents with her. She’ll need your help.” If Cordelia had an excuse to stay by Robin’s side, she didn’t give one. She dragged herself to her feet with the help of her spear, nodding once in Robin’s direction before making off to see Sumia.

One of, if not the only other pegasus rider left in Ylisse.

All because of you.

She hears it in the back of her head but doesn’t fight it. 10 hours Robin had been fighting and running and fighting and running. There was nothing left in her body. No bite, no fire. Nothing.

The voice it seems is tired too, for it doesn’t continue. Maybe because she could already do its job. Maybe because the silence was that much more useful in breaking her down. The voice, her thoughts. One and the same, and working against her.

For now all Robin could do was watch and think.

She watched Libra trek between the tents. Blood on his robes, a grim expression on his face. He did his duty to Naga, and he did it well. She watched the new dancer, Olivia, grab Basilio by the arm, talking in a hushed tone. Robin realized that she hadn’t heard the dancer be anything but quiet, as the two were ushered away towards the centre of the tent grouping. She watched Stahl help a limping Sully to her tent, a stray arrow having sliced her left calf muscles during the ravine fight. He took her to Maribelle who had briefly left the side of Lissa to respond to her healing duty.

Lissa, whose sobs could be heard from her tent all the way across the clearing. Lissa who always jumped in to help others, left with a loss that no amount of positivity or smiles could bring back. Lissa, wracked with grief and wailing, whose pain only hushed with the comfort of soothing words from those she was closest too. Robin had not gone in to see her yet.

After all, that was Robin’s fault as well.

And Chrom? He’d gone into his tent and hadn’t returned.

“This is all my fault.” She whispered to no one, for no one was there.

“You’re so sure of that, aren’t you?” No one responded, sending a shock up Robin’s spine as her head whipped around to find the voices’ source.

Long thin legs were what her eyes fell upon. Leading up into a scantily clad, gloomy-looking mage with half-lidded eyes and a curious stare.

This was the mage she had met earlier today. The Plegian. The defector.

“Tharja.” Robin said dumbly, earning a smile from the woman, who sat down gently beside Robin, her head resting on her long-fingered hands.

“You remember.” She hummed, looking much akin to a smug cat who’d stolen fish from a fishing ship.

“I don’t remember you in the ravine.”

“You ran ahead very quickly. With that little prince of yours. Oh, and that hulk of a knight as well.” Robin’s nose scrunched up as Tharja spoke with a voice like honey, looking over Robin in a way that made her skin feel hot and itchy.

“Why are you here?” She posed the question to the mage, and watched her black eyebrows arch.

“I told you already, I’ve no interest in the Plegian army. Not with that fool of a king. What do I care of war?”

“You care enough to join the opposing side.”

“I care enough to choose the side that will win.” Biting was the woman’s comment, but all it brought to Robin was a mirthless laugh.

“If you haven’t noticed, this army is in a shambles.” Tharja watched Robin gesture to the camp, following her fingers to the tents, and the people. Standing outside the entrance flaps waiting for news, walking aimlessly about or openly sobbing, sitting on the ground with their friends around them offering weak comfort in the face of what was to surely be the end.

There was no coming back from this. They were scattered, their morale was shattered. All there was to do was wait until the Plegian army moved far enough into Feroxi territory to wipe them out.

“Yes, but we have you.” Tharja’s voice pulled Robin from her depression, and dropped her into confusion.

“It’s my fault we’re in this state.”

“Ah, yes, because any tactician would have accounted for the enemy to have undead at their bidding.” Frustration filled Robin’s heart, turning it’s regular beat into punches which hurt her ribs and chest even more.

“I should have. We’ve fought Risen before!” Tharja raised a finger and wagged it in an aggravating and playful way. Robin felt half-tempted to bite it off before the Plegian mage said something that took the wind out of her.

“But you didn’t know they were connected to Plegia.” Robin’s face blanched.

No. She…

She didn’t.

But still...

“If anything that proves I should have known! How could I have not seen the connection?”

“You’re an amnesiac Robin, the fact that you’re functioning as well as you are is a miracle unto itself.” ‘Functioning’ was hardly the word for it. More like existing. Terribly, at that. Waking up with headaches every morning, going to sleep with questions and tears every night. Functioning isn’t the word she’d use to describe it, but it’s also not what she focuses on.

Robin’s attention suddenly shifted.

“How do you know I’m an amnesiac?” Robin hadn’t told her. And she hadn’t expected the others to gossip at a time like this.

“I think you doubt how well talked about you are in this army Robin.” Tharja grinned. Robin’s stomach churned. Her body felt weak and her chest ached so badly that the pain spread along her abdomen. She nearly threw up right there.

“I’m also not a fool. And I know you aren’t either.” Before Robin could even begin to question Tharja on what exactly the others had told her, the woman’s tone sharpened. Her eyes moved for the first time from Robin’s face to her clothes. Specifically, the large purple robe that perpetually stayed on her shoulders.

“I’m surprised that knight didn’t skewer you on the spot. What with this-” Sharply, she poked the insignia which went in a line down the arms, poking Robin as a result. “Marring that lovely purple fabric.”

The mark of the Grimleal.

That’s what Frederick had told her with dubious eyes when she asked. It was a mark that started a bloody crusade. A mark that many of the Plegian’s she’d cut down wore on their robes. A mark that had haunted the back of her mind, hiding behind it a possible past which terrified her more than anything else in the world.

A mark which, unbeknownst to the others, sat on the back of her left hand. Invisible to all but her eyes.

“I’m not so sure he won’t.” Robin swallowed thickly and changed the subject to free her head of more headaches. To avoid the implications Tharja was making. Lest everything come back to her, and she became someone who would hurt her new and well-loved friends.

Tharja, thankfully, let her lead.

“Skewer you? I think you’ve proved yourself more than enough. More than me, he won’t even look at me.” Robin’s heart skipped a beat, indignance searing through her as the other woman waved her hand so nonchalantly. Tharja hadn’t been here a day. She was in the army they were fighting not hours ago. She was even more likely of being a Plegian spy than Robin. Of course he wasn’t welcoming her with open arms.
He was Frederick, for gods sake. He had a job to do.

“He has a right to,” Robin huffed and looked out to the camp. Frederick was nowhere to be seen and it was beginning to grate at her stomach.

They had fought back there in the ravine. She had lost herself in such a pathetic way. She hadn’t thought properly and, once again, they were nearly killed. Had he not dragged her back to her senses along with Chrom, she was sure her body would be lying cold in that mud, decomposing with the rest of the shepherds.

How could she face him now? With another failure under her belt.

“With how awfully I’ve been doing he’s got every right to suspect me of being a saboteur.” She looked to her shoddy bronze sword and thought back to the short lesson he’d given her on her form. How his hands had felt laid over hers. She felt a cold pit form in her stomach, and ached to go back to then.

“You’re the reason they’re alive.” It’s a sentence laid with that same smugness that never left Tharja’s tone. Edged with a near snort of laughter and the obviously absurd things Robin was saying.

But there wasn’t sarcasm, at least as far as Robin could tell. There wasn’t teasing, and there was certainly no intent behind the words to mislead or hurt. Tharja believed what she was saying was true. And Robin baulked.

“I noticed the way your shepherds were moving. Slowly, calculating,” The mage started, also considering Robin’s sword. “You took groups and forts one at a time and kept everyone together. You had the courtyard flanked before you’d even reached it, and you kept yourself in such a position that you always had a clear escape route.”

But none of that mattered in the end. They still lost, dearly. She had still failed, and she was still a failure.

“But Emmeryn died. And I failed.” Tharja clicked her tongue.

“So you can’t let that happen again.” How? How could she risk that again? Risk the lives of her friends. Tharja, it seemed, could read minds as she sighed.

Her next words were like a blade to the chest, leaving icy, paralyzing fear to course through Robin’s veins.

“Do you want them to die, Robin?” Instantly their faces filled her mind. Lissa, Maribelle, Cordelia, Stahl, Vaike....

“No!” She blinked her stinging eyes. No, they were too kind. They were too good to her. And they were all she had.

“That’s what will happen when my people- what’s left of them that want to fight anyway- when they find you. They will die. All of them, painfully. Do you want to be responsible for that?” That Tharja was even asking that hurt Robin, and it made her recoil.

“No!”

“Then do something. You caught my eye on that battlefield because you’re a Plegian-”

“-Don’t-” Robin flinched.

“-You were one of them. And consciously or unconsciously, you know how they work. I’ll ask you again Robin, do you want them to die? Your pretty prince? Your shining knight?”

Lose Chrom? Lose Frederick?

“No.” Viciously, as if those that would take them from her were there, she spoke. Sharply, defensively. Tharja, unaffected by the edge of her tone, stood. Brushed herself off, and looked back to the tents, addressing Robin one last time.

“Then don’t let them.”

Then she was gone.

Robin was alone again. Staring at the dirt, staring at her sword. She was thinking.

Do something. Acting was so easy to do without thinking, if she were better on her feet then maybe the solution would come easier to her.

Everything she'd done so far– had it been flukes? Or was it a pattern? The way she saw things in the battlefield. The way she sized up enemies. Were they leftover muscle memory from a life she once knew?

And if that life was what she suspected, who was to say she developed them of her free will? Talent ripped forward by years of brutal training?

Or, worse, an innate knowledge that came from a passion, seated with the Grimleal themselves.

Flukes or no, it was all she had left.

Everything she’d ever owned was gone. Their tents now lay abandoned, likely ransacked in the desert. The romance novel she borrowed from Sumia, her desk, her bed. Most importantly every single tactics book she’d borrowed, every report and plan she’d ever conceived had to be considered destroyed, or compromised.

All she had were the tomes in her coat, the clothes on her back and her blades.

It's not enough. It's never enough. She's never felt full in this sense or another. Maybe once in that other life…

Did that even matter? What with the end of this one coming so swiftly?

Was she to take that end lying down? To never feel more than what she did now?

Robin didn’t even have paper to write her thoughts down on. Let alone a battle plan.

With a long groan she rubbed her eyes, and looked once more to her weapon, sticking out of the ground. It had left some grooves and holes from previous attempts of stabbing it in place, marking the ground like a pattern.

Huh.

Blinking, she looked to the ground, and then to the sword. She stood up.

It was hardly the freshest, whitest sheet of parchment. But it would do.

Yes, it would do.

Anyone milling by the edge of the tent cluster, pacing through the dirt, watched the tactician stand for the first time in hours. She stretched her back, she picked up her sword.

And then she began drawing.

The map Robin made was crude. There wasn’t an outline of every country. She did not include every town and city, every border line and lake name. Instead she marked towns and forts she could remember from her hours pouring over maps and history books. She marked the location of the mad king. The Feroxian Capital, and where she and The Shepherds were likely situated.

It was a bit of a guessing game.

Using her thumb to measure miles she continued. Scratching calculations of distance near some dots marking forts, and numbers of soldiers areas could possibly hold.

Scratching of metal against the occasional stone jarred the atmosphere. Robin was as good as deaf to it all, shrugging off her robe in the middle of her electric movements, blinking exhaustion from her eyes as adrenaline took it's place.

Not everyone seemed so enthusiastic, however.

Purposeful, stiff footsteps were familiar to Robin by now, even with the soft silt replacing the tap of cobble or shifting of sand. So when she looked around for where to place her next line, she was not shocked to find Frederick a few meters away, looking down at her scribblings with a low gaze.

He looked awful.

No armour, like she normally saw him in. Instead it was a simple button up that was once white, rolled up to his elbows and marked with some dirt. Brown pants clad his legs along with some sensible boots, and his hair looked ruffled. Not like normal but– just different. Robin could tell.

He wasn't neat. And in any other situation, Robin would have let herself think about just how attractive he was like this.

But she wasn't in any other situation. So the two were tense as they regarded each other.

So she didn't say a word and carried on. Avoiding meeting his gaze, for the hope that he would maybe go away and decide to lay his criticisms on someone else today.

She'd had enough of them already.

“Any particular reason you were talking to a Plegian, Robin?” Of course. She breathed out through her nose, and lightly swung the blade in her hand. She didn’t even spare him a glance.

“No, can you tell me the distance between here and Ylisstol?” Frederick, bless him stood there with his mouth opening and closing like a fish. Robin watched in the corner of her eye as his handsome chin dropped, rose and then dropped again as he tried to come up with a response.

She hated that even after their conflicts she found him exceedingly attractive. And she would not let herself fall back into that nervous, shy persona again.

“No. Now if I’m going to rep-”

“Okay.” She turned back to her dirt drawing, continuing on in a way that she hoped would send a message to the knight.

It seemed, even without his armour, the man was an utterly impenetrable wall.

“I’ll ask you first what you were doing and why you feel it is so important-” Robin’s spine straightened like a ruler, and before she was even half aware of what she was saying, her ramblings poured forth from her mouth.

“If what that general was saying in the ravine is true, the Plegians are losing morale and they’re losing men. They were already massacred in the last war, and Emmeryn’s death hasn’t made them feel any better in who they’re supporting.”

Except this time, they weren’t ramblings. Focused, sharp and pointed like the blade they’d been drawn up with. Frederick winced but Robin pressed on, pacing in front of the knight.

“So it’s a matter of people,” She tapped the sword around where the Feroxi territory lay.

“If there’s neighbouring villages this far out of Feroxi we could gather them. A small militia of guards. We’d only need a few hundred and the army only just started their march to Ylisse. We could have them here in a few days.” In normal circumstances that wouldn’t be anywhere near enough, but...

“With the Plegian army losing support as it is, Gangrel can’t have that many soldiers left, especially as we’ve already wiped out 2 of his top generals and nearly the entire palace guard. He’ll need to call in soldiers from the outposts to make up, but that would take too long. But then again if he has risen…”

“Then we’re outnumbered.” Frederick finished for her. At some point while her focus was taken he had walked over, and was now stood at her side, a hand on his chin as he regarded her crude map. He didn’t look at her, so she stopped looking at him.

“Not exactly. What Gangrel did wasn’t easy. I know what it takes to use a tome. That amount of magic can’t be sustained, and it can’t be used at random. He knew what I was planning somehow. He had the gist of it, and he was prepared for whatever we would hit him with. We have to take him out of his territory, he’d be out of his element on an unknown battlefield. We’ve beat him and his witch like that when they took Maribelle.”

“He wouldn’t be able to pull it off again if we picked a fight somewhere he couldn’t lay a trap.” Frederick followed her up, and she knelt down, and looked over the map. Robin wracked her brain for any location she might know of that stack the odds in their favour.

“Give him no time to prepare, hit him fast and there’s no way he’ll have the numbers.” There was a shift, and suddenly Frederick was beside her, knelt down with a stick in his hands. He made a few adjustments, and then looked her in the eye.

“And you think this will work?”

There was something there, beyond the grief.

“Unless you have a plan of your own.” She waited for him to pick it apart. To doubt or make changes, but instead he stood up and dropped the stick, brushing off his hands.

“Then we’ll talk about it in the morning.” Robin blanched.

“What? But this could be-"

“Robin. We need to rest, all of us.” Rest. Yes, it sounded good but this was hardly the time. Right?

“I thought you never rested.” She accused. For a second it looked like– no. That couldn't have been a smile on his face. It was there and gone too suddenly.

“Today has been a long day. I fear no one will rest after…”

The way he trailed off. The way he flinched. The way his eyes glassed over for a second.

Robin bit her tongue.

“This is hurting you. Just as much as it is Chrom and Lissa.” In an entirely different but similar way.

She waited for Frederick to snap at her, or tell her to stop bothering him. Instead he does something she has never once seen him do before.

He opened up. Just a crack. A sliver, that allowed her a tantalizing peek at the man she sought so desperately.

“I grew up serving the Exalted bloodline. Back then, Chrom and Lissa were babes. They could barely talk, let alone hold a full conversation. Emmeryn was the only one…”

She waited for him to elaborate, and by the looks of it, he was waiting as well. His mouth was open just a bit, both stood with bated breath to see what his next words would be.

“Goodnight, Robin.”

He didn't explain himself any further. But it was there, crouched on the soft dirt that Robin understood. Finally, understood.

She turned back to her plan and didn't allow herself to watch him walk away.

She had so much work to do.

Chapter Text

The field that was to serve as the Plegian Army’s graveyard was no different from the thousands Robin had passed through, over the months of her journey with The Shepherds

Mountains rose high in the distance, white-capped and jagged in a way that instilled one with unease. They cast their gaze on the field of gold and dying green of wild wheat and dry grass. Spanning for hundreds of meters, split apart only by a river to the west.

Robin couldn’t hear it’s flowing waters over the murmur in the small crowds, or the heavy beating of her own heart.

The only structure was a nearby unused fort, abandoned after the end of the long crusades which had marred Plegia and Ylisse’s bloody history. All broken stone and rotting wood that echoed pain of the not so distant past. It was there that the Plegian’s had positioned themselves, the king standing on the crumbling ramparts, looking over his “great” army that had assisted in the death of Exalt Emmeryn. They had 50 men, at most.

A force that's size matched Robin's own.

Pitiful, how quickly an army can recede when faced with needless death, unending hopelessness and moral questions that suck the very soul of passion and compassion, filling one with only the empty cavern of disgust and self-hate.

The tactician sucked in a breath and shut her eyes. The crowd’s whispers died down. Chrom began to walk out, ahead of the army, preparing for the address. The voice at the back of Robin's head whispered, but she could not hear the words. Everything was white noise as one sentence hammered into her head, over and over till she was speaking it softly under her breath.

“Stick to the plan.”

"And this will work?" Chrom looked over the now smudged dirt plans that Robin had poured herself into the night before. A hand rested under his chin, his eyes which were rimmed with red and heavy with blue bags, but still they were alert. Critical and strong as they scanned over her crude map once again.

"It has to," Robin responded and took another glance at the map which she had slept next to all night, out in the open, as to protect it from interference. The last thing they needed was some soldier kicking it to dust, thinking it nothing more than a child's drawing.

"One final stand…" The prince murmured, and Robin tensed. Would he reject it? Tell her that they should cut their losses and run?

No.

What a stupid question.

He looked back to Robin, a smile on his face. Confident. Ready.

Burning with blue, deadly fire.

Robin smiled back.

Backing down…

That wasn’t who Chrom was.

"I'm not my sister." Chrom started, drawing the attention of the 3 lines of troops.

"I can't draw hope and moral from thin air, or soothe your fears with a gentle smile. I can't champion peace as she did. But I can fight for it, and I can fight for you if you let me." His voice shook. In his hands, his falchion shook. But Robin's truest friend stood strong. Stood with his head high.

Chrom stood in front of them, as their Exalt.

"I cannot put into words, the amount we have lost. So I won't," He raised his arm, Falchion shining in the glistening sunlight, reflecting off of its perfect surface. He took a deep breath.

"Instead, I'll promise you that one way or another, it ends here."

Cheers erupted through their small crowd. Militia, Shepherd, they were united as one force. Standing between the future of Ylisse, and sheer destruction.

Robin readied her tome and sword, and took her place, as The Tactician, beside her Captain. Her Commander. Her King.

He was right.

Even if it meant her death– even if it meant never knowing who she was, never getting to be who she was meant to be.

She would endure it. She would see it through.

She would end this war here. One way or another.

"For Ylisse!"

Sword, axes and lances at the front. Archers and mages behind them, mages at the back. Simple, without need for overcomplication, or overthinking.

Robin shared this plan with the Khans, and the next morning they rode out to a close Feroxi village and returned with 10 armed men.

That was more than Robin had expected.

What was left of their army gathered their resources, healed the last of their wounded and buried their dead. Quietly, diligently and in a single day. It was the efficiency of survival.

The next morning they moved. They travelled to the field where they knew Gangrel would meet them. A wide space, with an old fort, the perfect place for a storybook fight. It was too tempting for his egotistical notions of grandeur.

They are ready when the sun sets and the moon shines her gentle glow. The last of their food supplies used. Their bedrolls set in the dry grass.

The night before the battle, Chrom called Robin to his tent.

The Wyvern riders were the first of the Plegians to fall.

10 of them, brought down by well-placed arrows and Rexcaliburs that struck the eyes and wings. It sent the riders and their beasts tumbling through the air, before slamming into the hard earth of the field. Bones and scales shattered on impact, blood once again marred what should have been a peaceful land. Any survivors were swiftly silenced by Lon'qu's sword.

It was a sickening scene that greatly resembled that of Phila and her Pegasi's final moments.

Robin loathed to witness it again, but such was the way of war.

Next was the infantry. Skewered by lances so quickly they might as well have been dead the moment they engaged Frederick and Sully. Dispatched like training dummies, with the spear ends sticking out of their broken bodies. They barely raised their swords as they clashed with the Shepherds, and each blow they received was returned tenfold internally, forever to weigh on Robin’s mind.

Never had it been so obvious that the Plegian soldiers didn't want to fight.

And never had it been so obvious that the Shepherds had something to fight for.

"I don't blame you." Chrom had told her when she popped her head into his tent. The light from a lantern at his bedrolls edge took some time for her to adjust to. It was pitch black outside, and most others had retired.

But not him.

Chrom was dressed in a simple nightshirt and pants. Hair messy, like he had tossed and turned before deciding to summon her. Robin was hardly dressed like a princess either, but to be fair, she wasn’t one.

Chrom never did seem one for the fanciful (or neat) side of life.

"I know." Robin had responded instantly, before she’d even settled down near the door, cross-legged. That wasn't who Chrom was. Someone who put the blame on other people, or found their faults and diminished them for it. Though Robin felt she deserved that.

Or rather, she felt she needed it, more often than not.

Chrom was a force of nature, and that nature- his nature, was a kind one. She knew that most, out of all of the few things she truly knew.

"You know you're my friend, right?"

"Of course." Again, two words she speaks firmly without hesitation. Though this time a smile is on her face. He had made that clear from the beginning. More than anyone, he had made sure he knew how much he cared for her.

It's why she burned to protect him. Like he was a twin brother. That sudden, blood-like bond that lead him to trust her, and her to trust him. He, who she was connected with, for life.

"After this is over if we survive. And we win. Can you promise me you'll stay? Stay in Ylisse? With the shepherds?"

Connected. But…

Not in a way that made sense to her. And not in a way she necessarily felt she deserved

It shouldn’t have been an obstruction, not knowing things. Oftentimes her entire existence seemed to revolve around not knowing, failing and learning. Not knowing, failing and learning. On and on.

That’s one of few constants in her life, and it’s one she can’t stand.

Chrom looked at her with such expectations. Such hope, such admiration. And it made her feel strong, and it made her feel capable for just that moment.

Chrom looked at her like everyone else. To see what she would do. What decision she would take, what path she could create.

And when she looked back at him, she wondered how it would feel to look into the eyes of someone who already knew the answer. Someone who already knew her.

And she wondered if they were out there.

"I can't."

It hurt to see his face fall. How his eyes flickered away, how his lips turned down. But most of all it hurt a part of Robin to reject this life, with all her friends, that by all accounts she had earned because a part of her still clung to a past unknown.

She wondered if that was how she’d always feel towards herself. If clarity would ever come. If tomorrows end would open a new path, remove the block in her mind and show her a kind, and happy past.

She wondered if she would die.

And then she remembered herself and where she was, and she didn’t let herself wonder anymore.

When Falchion met with that of a bloody Levin Sword, it took all of Robin’s strength not to vomit on the Plegian who’s blade faced her own. Perhaps a move like that would have given her the upper hand, aimed correctly, but it the space between strikes where she took her breath, she decided anything as vile as that could be left as a last resort.

Nausea had ramped up in her stomach the closer they got to the fort. Whatever tactical advantage Gangrel may have once had was gone the moment he saw Chrom approach the walls. The king ran at the Exalt like a bloodthirsty dog, out into the grass. Behind him, hesitant soldiers hovered and questioned their place as their lines depleted. Some ran into nearby forests, or towards the river bridge. Only a few stayed still, and less than that came to the aid of their king.

It had become clear to all but the madman himself that their leader had totally lost the plot.

The sick feeling in her stomach spread as she considered exactly what kind of man they were about to face. A man worse than the one who kidnapped Maribelle, or executed Emmeryn. A man who’d been totally, mentally, ripped to shreds.

And then she forced it down and pushed, her eyes still kept a close gaze on the prince who battled some meters away.

Nothing had happened yet, bar the Mad King taking a swipe at Chrom so wide he’d managed to hit one of his own soldiers, sending them tumbling back into the grass with a stomach wound.

Not that he cared.

As Robin sidestepped a slash and spun she briefly lost sight of the two. They spoke too quickly for her to comprehend over the clash of metal as they slashed over and over, stabbing at the others' weak points, targeting veins, eyes.

The dance of swords is enough to distract her from her own foe who she thought she’d deftly blocked. His own coming strike was halted, as that shiny blade met the ground. Robin had not yet registered the man's death before familiar shadow atop a horse loomed over her, like some cynical guardian.

“Be careful.”

“I am.” They snapped at each other, before returning their attention back to the prince. The link that kept them close together.

If you ignored Robin’s misplaced feelings, that was.

Frederick charged forward, into the heart of the fray which was already pittering out, Robin looked over the crowds briefly. She watched his head of brown hair disappear with a deep ache in her chest and then shook it away with frustrated inner violence. She needed to focus on the figures. The colours of their clothes and armours.

She did the numbers, tapping finger to finger. Sized them all up within a few seconds, their abilities. Their weapons. Their health.

And then she smiled and drew her tome.

"Can you stay with me tonight? I don't…" Want to be alone?

Robin didn’t understand why she was the one he asked. But she understood what he was feeling. Better than anyone here, she knew loneliness like an old, bitter friend.

"I can."

She settled in beside him but kept her space. No part of them touched as he lay down on his sleeping bag and her on the ground. Her coat was her blanket, her hands her pillow. The light flickered out, darkness enveloped the inside of the warm tent. It was in the company of her best friend that she had the best sleep she'd had in weeks.

As if a part of her already knew what the outcome of the conflict would be.

Gangrel died like a mortal man. His innards just as red, just as human as Robin's own. His last ramblings were halted on a gurgling choke. Halted like the sounds of battle, which all but ended the moment everything came to an end with a single thrust and twist of a sword. The Plegians dropped their weapons before The Mad King's body hit the grass, his soiled blood left to fester in the dirt.

Robin felt everything and nothing.

The world lit up around her with cries of victory and anguish. Robin couldn’t feel her fingertips. She couldn’t even track her pulse.

Maribelle hopped off her horse and wrapped Ricken in a hug. Sully and Stahl stood together, off of their steeds, leaned heavily against one another. Lissa and Sumia cried and even Cordelia succumbed to the emotion of it all and cheered for Chrom. Falchion still in his hands, breathing heavily over the corpse. Frederick stood by him, silent, a hand on his shoulder.

Robin watched every facet of human emotion play out in front of her and she felt absolutely nothing.

The conflict that had lasted her entire conscious life, that had dictated and haunted her every thought and decision she had ever made was now… over.

It had met its bloody, violent end. All in the space of an hour, on a field like the one she'd woken up in not long ago.

She fell to her knees, her tome dropped by her side. No arms went to wrap around her, no person called her name. Figures were blurred through tears as her fingernails dug into the dirt, and she heaved deep breath after deep breath.

The inner turmoil left her, not with a ragged scream or a victorious rallying call, but in a choking, harrowed sob. A sob with both nothing and everything behind it. Because it was finally over.

They had won.

There would be no more war meetings. No running. No military tents, no need to check the weapons and the rations. No need to busy herself with troop placements and battle reports.

There would be no more of what Robin knew. What she was good at, what made her stand out. What made her, her.

Everything that made her useful. That made her important.

Everything Robin knew was gone. Just like she’d wanted, and just as she’d feared.

An entire world and life now set out before her. An existence she couldn’t comprehend. Would maybe never understand.

It was all over. And it was all beginning.

So, what now?

Chapter Text

Celebrations were held on the second night.

The first was for mourning. For burying their dead. For sending letters and messengers out to every village and every place troops might be stationed. The war was over. The Plegians had retreated, for good this time.

No mad king. No reason to fight.

Ylisse had won.

That night that fell on the battlefield was brutal catharsis. The field on which their final stand in was made had been cleared of bodies. The fallen from both sides were buried near the edge of the treeline, large rocks marking their graves for king and foot soldier alike.

Robin couldn't stand to be around it. Her time was spent at the edge of the river. Eyes trained on the sun's shadow. How it crawled across the dirt, the grass and the remains of those who'd not made it to sunset. Buried under cover of darkness.

Night fell and in the distance, the Shepherds made their camps. Robin didn't move, she spent the evening staring up silently at the stars. Till her eyes stung from the morning light. Till the distant sobs of relief and grief faded into crickets chirping and birds calling. She tried with all her heart to absorb the overwhelming emotions the others felt. To internalize their joy and pain so she could simply feel something. But it was no use, and so she waited until that numbness slipped away, only leaving as the sun rose. Warm, golden and bright on her hollow chest and thrumming head.

It was an easier night than the second. For the second held her with dread and locked at her ankles. The second night, of celebrations, was a world unexplored.

The night of celebrations filled her with nothing but thick, sickly unease. An unease that shadowed her the moment she'd taken her place in it all, standing beside Lissa. A table was filled with what little food was left to eat, drinks were passed around and Robin avoided looking too long at people’s faces.

It was no surprise she’d decided to take the first out she could; an out she had yet to discover as she did her best to ground herself in the here and now.

A moment that was jarring, stressful and free.

This was catharsis as well, Robin decided as she stood by the door to the fort. What was days ago the base for a genocidal madman, now found use in hosting the remaining soldiers’ reward for their bitter work.

Warm lights hung on walls, the table lay near bare of food and the room was packed with people. Laughing hard, as if the joy they could produce now would be enough to wipe away the pain which had embedded in their minds yesterday.

Soldiers she'd led into the fray mingled with villagers who'd trekked a mile earlier in the day to see if the news was true- that the war was truly over. With them, they'd brought food, plenty of alcohol, and the promise of shelter once everything was packed up in the morning.

In front of Robin, in that crowd, were those who'd survived. Through skill or sheer dumb luck.

Drunk. Talking. Dancing.

Robin had... never seen dancing before.

Twirling. Spinning. Moving in unison. Watching the laughing pair of two Ylissean men was enchanting. They seemed so energetic and clumsy. Back and forth, working as one.

It shouldn't have reminded Robin of battle, but it did.

She really hated that.

She hated that this was all so loud.

The lights were loud. The joy was loud. Were she a braver, normal woman she would have joined in. She would have jumped to the table and declared her happiness at the end of all previous suffering. She’d have made a name for herself as a confident, happy tactician.

But Robin wasn't happy. She couldn't force a skip in her step. She couldn't even put a smile on her face.

Instead, she stood by the doorway and felt sick. Two drinks in her hands. Her foot tapping and twisting in discomfort

The feeling followed her out into the cool night. Accentuated by a shiver down her spine, brought by a gust of cold air.

The wrecked fort looked like a castle with its golden inner light. Tents lined its outside. They contained those who'd drunk themselves to sleep. That, and those who'd baulked at regulation preventing more than a single person per tent. Along with restrictions detailing the ban on, ah, "close" relations.

Skittering past a particularly loud tent, Robin blushed and begged for her eyes to adjust to the night. She scoured the tiny sea of tarp for her target.

Briefly she contemplated the very compelling concept of sleep.

All she had was the ground, what with their need to abandon the Plegian camp some days ago. A soft bed was a luxury Robin had experienced perhaps... thrice in her life? As she approached the very edge of the circle of celebrations, she wondered if it would be something she could get used to.

She then spotted exactly what she was looking for and put that irritating thought right out of her head. Opting for that which had unexpectedly comforted her through the ongoing noisy din.

"It's not much of a party," Gaius told her when she came across him some 30 minutes ago. Hiding behind three empty barrels at the edge of the camp.

'Just here for the food.' He'd told her when she gave him an odd look. It seemed there was something more, but Robin didn't press.

"Could've fooled me." Robin had never been to a party. Normally there was music. Other things too like fancy dress and… streamers, yes? Decorations? That was what Lissa complained about a lack of in the very least.

Regardless of what things were supposed to be like, she’d found herself there with him. He'd asked her to fetch the drinks, and she'd agreed. And now here they both were.

Robin settled herself on a barrel beside Gaius and nursed her beer. He knocked it back with the confident swig of a man well familiar with alcohol's poor taste.

She wasn't feeling particularly festive.

Robin didn't have much experience with people. So she wasn't sure how to describe Gaius. Or, rather, the relationship she had with Gaius.

A thief. 'Untrustworthy' Frederick had said, but that was near everyone to the knight. And perhaps why she felt a sort of bond with Gaius in the first place. His history of thieving and Naga knew what aside.

She respected him. Enough that she felt no need to fill the air with any nonsense thoughts she had. Talking would have just made her sick again.

Silence sat comfortably between the two. Like a third old friend who offered solace as the rest of the world got loud. Even the sound of summer bugs was deafening in Robin's ears. Everything was far too much, all at once.

She sipped the warm beer and perked up as Gaius spoke.

"You should head out there," He said it so casually, picking at a treat. Some kind of sugary bread a village girl had gifted him with a blush on her freckled cheeks. Robin had half a mind to swipe some for herself, but opted instead to listen.

"I'm happy here."

"You don't like being around people?"

"I do." She took a hand off the mug and tapped her against the barrel. The wood grain felt rough and uncomfortable under the pads of her fingers.

"Just not now."

Gaius accepted that answer. Silence settled in amongst them both once more, and Robin looked out upon the tents. Bobbing heads could be seen every minute or so. Stumbling over pegs and ropes in drunken, clumsy stupors.

It was just as a soldier collapsed into a tent containing an angry-sounding couple that Gaius spoke up again.

"Any idea what the plan is for tomorrow?" Not taking her eyes from the comical scene, Robin repeated what she'd been told by Chrom and Frederick that morning.

"We're heading to the village, and then parting ways with the Feroxi. We still don't know what kind of state Ylisstol is in so getting there should be a priority." From there damage control could begin. And they could rebuild.

That's what Chrom had told her at the very least.

"And then we crown our new exalt?" Robin tore her eyes from the broken tent, where a half-dressed couple was storming off out of sight. Her cheeks flushed and she sucked in a deep breath, turning her gaze back to Gaius.

"I… don't know. I don't know how this works." Ylissean politics and history weren’t something she’d given massive thought to. The simple thought of how the country was run both tugged curiosity in her stomach and sent it swirling like a whirlpool in a storm.

"You should probably figure that out." Whatever the opposite of nonchalance was, Gaius was the opposite. The way he hid the tongue behind those final words behind thin lips that pulled into a knowing smile. Robin swallowed thickly.

"Why?" His eyes glinted as his lips pulled into a smile, slightly parted and he shrugged.

"Tactical Advisor and all." He was… kidding, right? That’s why he was smiling like that.

"Okay, well I'd heard Chrom talking about it and…"

"And…?"

“I'd assumed it would be you." It took her one, two seconds to realize he’s changed the subjects. And then another two of staring blankly at his face looking for that glint of teasing in his eyes. She didn’t find it.

"Me?" She pointed at herself, her brows in a hard line.

"Well, it's not gonna be Vaike." Obviously not. But...

There was no way, in any reality that she was about to be put in charge of something as important as that.

"I'm a war tactician, not an advisor." And the war was over. So there was no need for someone like her, versed in battle for unknown reasons, to go into politics. To advise tactics to an exalt about other countries she had no knowledge of. To preempt coming conflict. Or to discuss problems with heads of state who had trained most of their lives for such a position.

An amnesiac, unfamiliar with the world around her, equipped with unwarranted magical abilities, a dubious past and an aversion to any form of conversation. Being made a political advisor.

No. No, there was no way Chrom would do something as utterly ridiculous as that.

"No. I don't… no. I don't know. I don't even know if…" She flip-flopped. She couldn't take that offer. Not now. Not if...

"If…" Gaius prompted. She swallowed.

If I’ll stay.

"There's a lot going on right now. That seems like a big decision that should be made when I have a clearer head." Staying meant committing. It also assumed that she was wanted around. It also assumed that those back in Ylisse would be comfortable with someone with her lack of background being in charge.

"And your head ain't clear now?" Clear? Was her head clear a day after multiple massacres? Clear halfway into a pint of beer?

"No. Not after yesterday." A mixture of revulsion and guilt shot down her spine. Her hand balled into a fist, resting on her knee.

"Hm." Robin lifted her eyes to the noise, finding Gaius evaluating her with a curious stare.

"What?"

"Nothin'. Never pegged you as the type to get worked up over losses." Something about his comment sent bile rising up her throat. A vile feeling took her chest captive.

"I care," Her stomach shifted like silt being turned over at the bottom of a lake. "I care too much."

Quiet hung between in the thick night air. Though Robin could hear the clashing of blades ghosting her ears. A crack of lightning and the smell of burnt flesh. Mud, sand and blood rubbing coarse and slimily against her skin, seeping into her clothes and boots.

"At least stick around till Chrom gets crowned." A breath of almost laughter escaped her nose in a short puff.

"What makes you so sure I'm leaving?" It was Gaius’ turn to laugh as he leaned backwards. His head rested against a stacked barrel, pushing his ginger hair askew.

"You don't have a lot of stuff. But the things you do own are always on you. No offense, but you do have the look of a runner." ‘The look of a runner’. Hardly the worst thing she’d ever been called, but it still weighed in her mind.

"Thanks, Gaius. That's so kind." Sarcasm dripped from Robin’s words, and it satisfied her. Speaking back. Speaking freely. She shook her head and laughed inwardly at herself. Maybe she wasn’t as good with alcohol as she’d thought.

"Anyway, you're wrong. I do ‘have stuff’ I don't keep on me, but it got left in the desert when we had to run." Her plans and papers. Her terribly creaky old cot. And Sumia's book… she'd almost forgotten. Gaius hummed.

"Stay long enough for them to recover that then. It's not like you have anything else." For such a careless, easy-going person, Gaius seemed adamant to argue her inner thoughts. Perhaps he just liked to be contrary?

"Why does it matter to you if I stay?" To anyone, really. There were people here who liked her, she was beginning to understand that. She’d certainly proven her use. But to people like Gaius… like Frederick.

"We don't lose with you around." His first word sat heavy in her mind. ‘We’.

"And you're staying?" Honestly, she’d expected him to move on. Many of the shepherds weren’t actually, well… a part of the shepherds. Tharja, Libra, Gaius, she could go on… She’d expected them all to accept whatever payment or reward would be given to those who fought and then find their next place in life.

"Why wouldn't I? Nothing for me out there." Nothing… for him.

"Well, I don't know what I could have waiting for me. Out there." A family? A spouse, a home? Did she have siblings? A younger sister waiting for her to return, an older brother searching the land? Worried parents? Naga, did she have children? She had to know.
Someone out there had to be looking for her. She couldn’t accept that she was just…

Alone.

"Then you should probably work on setting yourself up a base. Before you just throw yourself into it without backup." Robin bit back her tongue and in doing so, bit back any retort she could have prepared. Her cheeks flushed for a reason she could not discern, and as she followed that familiar frustration settled within her as Gaius’ smug expression returned with a tilt of his head.

She… he...

"I'm gonna go get another drink." Leaving her tankard behind, Robin did not cast a single glance in Gaius’ direction as she shot to her feet and stalked away from the dimly lit barrels. Fists clenched she stepped between the pegs and ropes that held the sea of tents up. Her feet fell hard and her body moved swiftly, as if she were performing some angry dance.

Despite the deliberateness of each step, Robin paid no attention to where exactly she was going. Somehow she found herself standing in front of the tent she’d watched collapse. Somehow, the man was still lying there, unmoving. The virulence that once rocked her chest melted away. Was he… he was breathing, right? Yes, she could see his chest rise and fall. She knelt and sat back on her heels.

"Alright there?" As if she were greeting a friend on the street she spoke, cringing at the casualness of her tone. He was very clearly not alright.

"Mm." Even if he seemed to think so. Robin took a closer look.

The man looked quite a mess. The dark made it hard for her to see, but she managed to pick the human from the fabric and tent poles. 3 limbs splayed out with another tucked under his chest, head on its side with the face squished into the dirt. It didn’t look comfortable.

"Is that your tent?" She was pretty sure it wasn’t, but she might as well save the drunk man the embarrassment of knowing she’d watched his tumble. In an eloquent response he shrugged. Maybe? It was hard to tell in this light. Naga, this was going nowhere...

"What's your name?"

"H'msh." Okay. That wasn’t… Okay.

"Sorry?"

"Hamish." With what was likely the last of his strength the man raised his neck just enough to bring his mouth away from the ground. Robin was going to congratulate him for achieving such a feat while inebriated before he slumped face-first back into the dirt with a long groan. She made sure he was still conscious and stood back up.

"Alright, Hamish. I'm going to go back inside and find your friends. You can't sleep on… that." Hamish didn’t respond, likely too tired to even speak. What time was it? Robin rubbed her face and sucked in a deep breath. She cast her eyes to the stars and allowed herself a single second of quiet, before returning to her trek through the tents. She had a good idea of who to ask for help.

In less than a minute she reached the fort. Her eyes fell upon a man standing by the door. Slumped might have actually been a better word for it... His helmet had slipped down, covering his eyes. He looked half-dead with his drooping shoulders, but he let her pass by without a fuss.

Inside was still loud. The warm orange glow burned Robin’s eyes as she entered and looked around. The bare tables had been pushed aside, up against the walls. Some sat upon them unceremoniously, others used them to lean against while they talked. Small clusters of groups hung at the edge, including the musically talented villagers who played their instruments. These groups all but faded when compared to mass in the centre, dancing as if the night were their last.

Robin scanned the faces as she hovered by the door and fiddled with her coat. She felt like a shrouded ghost hovering at the exit. Ready to grasp and terrify the next person to walk by. She swallowed thickly, her eyes mercifully locking onto the figure she’d been searching for. She cupped a hand to her mouth.

“Cordelia!” Robin’s voice was lost to the music, though she did her best to make herself heard. She lifted onto the tips of her toes, her other hand outstretched to the ceiling, waving madly. Still, it was no use and Robin sighed. The pegasus knight across the room stayed oblivious, chatting with a group of men. They looked like soldiers, but with everyone in plainclothes, it was hard to tell. It didn’t matter anyway.

Hamish was still outside in the night air. And Robin had promised to find help. So now, she had to get from one end of the room to the other.

Even if it meant walking through the whirlpool of bodies.

Robin steeled her stomach and tensed her muscles, flexing her hands. She took a moment to breathe in deep, like she were about to strike a killing blow.

With more bravery than the woman she was a week ago, Robin stepped into the crowd.

Dancing, as it turned out, included a lot more jostling involved than Robin thought. Shoulders bumped and bodies twirled and bent in a dizzying whirlwind. Clumsy as a newborn foal she stumbled and muttered ‘sorry’s” and ‘excuse me’s!” with every unsure step. There were some faces she recognised in the haze and more she did not. They all blurred into one as she rose to her toes and desperately craned her neck to peer over the many heads. It was hard to keep her eyes on Cordelia's red hair, but she managed, and dropped back down to her heels to continue the trek.

"Just a little more," Robin murmured to herself with a deep breath. Her skin felt like it was on fire. Every brush of fabric or skin against hers was warm. It wasn’t awful. Rationally she had been through worse. But the touching, the grabbing, the pulling, the rubbing, the shouting—

It was just so much.

"Just a little more,” She promised herself again as the gap to Cordelia shrunk by the second. Relief spilled into her heart as she reached the outskirts of the crowd. Relief that was woefully premature.

The music that her ears had blocked out kicked up, and so did the people around her. Pairs spun, their movement rising in time with the increasing speed of the movement. Less than a couple of people from the crowds edge, Robin's luck ran out.

Dodging a spinning pair, her feet caught and hooked on the feet and ankles of a stranger. Her body tipped forward, and her stomach shot to her body's lowest point. She was falling.

In the few seconds before she hit the floor she thought of how painful it would be to be trampled to death. She considered how hard and dirty the stone floor was considering its age. Most importantly she squeezed shut so tight they stung and awaited the impact. An impact that never came.

Her hands which she'd thrown out on instinct caught luck instead. Closing around a body. Grasping desperately at a linen shirt. The arms of said stranger went to grab her shoulders, and protect her from the fall. Robin opened her eyes and found a clean white linen shirt. Called out to her face by Gaius and now she'd embarrassed herself in front of some poor village boy?

But no. It was worse than that.

A voice cut through the dancing and music. Alighting every nerve in her body, sending a jolt straight to her heart.

“Robin?”

Frederick.

Of course.

When she opened her eyes, Robin was met with a white shirt. Likely the same she’d seen him in days ago when she drew up victory plans in the dirt. She took a deep breath in and pressed her feet firm into the ground, pulling out of his grip a she looked up at him.

The music was still playing, people were still dancing, unaware of her fall. Her eyes centered on Frederick’s face. His hair tousled and brown, his dark stern eyes and his mouth in that same, perpetual line. The same as always, except… His cheeks looked a little flushed. Had he… been drinking?

"Sorry, I didn't mean— I— Thank you." Robin spluttered out after a 3 second beat of silence. Frederick blinked once before looking her up and down and frowning.

"Were you… dancing?” His tone was dubious. As if such a graceful act were beyond her. And, yes, it was. But that was beside the point! Frustration flickered like a flame on the lining of her stomach. She swallowed it with her pride, arms covering her chest.

“I— No. I just came back.”

“Where have you been?” Fantastic. This again. Robin sucked in a deep breath and huffed. It was hard to be convincingly annoyed when the ghost of his touch on her arms still sent jolts across her skin.

“Talking to Gaius, outside.” She sounded a bit like a petty teenager, but she didn’t care.

“Outside?” Head tilted, eyebrows furrowed. The idea that she’d been absent from this party seemed ludicrous to him. Clearly, he didn’t know as much about her as he thought.

“It’s loud in here.” A plain truth, but the truth nonetheless. Robin half-expected Frederick to challenge her, and for them to engage in a back and forth that would thoroughly kill the mood of those around them. Instead he took a deep breath and pinched his nose, before stepping around her. As he passed, Robin got a better look at the heavy bags under his eyes.

“Where are you going?” She asked as he moved towards the crowd. She didn’t allow herself to stare at his broad back as he walked away. Nor at the bounce of his brown hair. Her eyes flickered away before she stared too long. He didn’t look back, but spoke sharp enough that she knew he was speaking to her.

“That’s none of your business.” And what she was doing was none of his business but he’d asked anyway. And he’d interrupted her doing something important. She still needed to tell someone about-

Hamish.

“But I need help, there’s someone-” But it was too late. The crowd had converged around him, and Frederick was gone.

“-collapsed in a tent.” Robin sucked in a deep breath. She could have barreled after him, but it was no use. She’d have an easier time finding help elsewhere. So she turned her head sharply and locked onto Cordelia again.

Cordelia and her friends.

Briefly it occurred to Robin just how badly she did not want to interrupt them. To be the mostly stranger who butt into the fun, just to deliver bad news. Or worse, a task for them to do on a night meant for celebration. But there was no other person she felt comfortable asking. Plus, if Cordelia was talking to them, they had to be okay people… Right?

Robin held her breath as she walked up to the group, hovering behind the tallest of the men with her heart in her throat. What was she going to say? Oh, yes. That would work. Hopefully.

It was only when she cleared her throat that they noticed her. Which only made Robin wish that she hadn’t.

“Robin, hello!” Cordelia beamed at her appearance, which settled the storm in her stomach somewhat. The tallest of the men stared at her expectantly. Brown-eyed, light-skinned with curly hair like a tall redwood. Robin swallowed and spoke.

"Hello. There's someone in a tent outside." Her dialogue was as stilted as her body, back rigid, hands clenched. She wasn’t anxious, no- she knew anxiety. This was just...

"Okay?" Awkward. Once more she coughed to clear her throat, flexing her hands behind her back.

"I mean, they're in the tent. They fell on it."

"Oh." They were quiet for a moment.

"Said his name was Hamish?" It was a shot in the dark, but what was left of the army was small. So it was no surprise to her when recognition flashed on the faces of the soldiers. Recognition followed by a chorus of groans and sighs.

"Bloody lightweight. I'll get him. Cheers." Robin’s breath was knocked from her lungs as he slapped her on the back, passing her with a flash of a grin. She kept her footing, and turned just in time to watch him leave.

"No problem." She spoke so quietly she doubted the man heard her over the chatter. He cut through the crowd like it was nothing, smiling and waving to people as he passed.

The two men left went back to talking, but instead of joining in, Cordelia looked at Robin. Just, looked at her.

That frantic night in Robin's tent where Cordelia saw all her insecurities laid bare felt like years ago. But the rawness of opening up in such a way still hurt Robin. Throbbing like an open wound as she looked away and coughed, trying not to think too hard about what Cordelia— Clever, brave Cordelia— must think of her.

"Are you alright?” Cordelia asked her. Robin glanced back and opened her mouth only to sigh heavily and slump against the wall beside Cordelia. Her left shoulder pressed into the cold wall, arms crossed tight against her chest.

“Sure.”

Cordelia frowned, mirroring Robin’s own pose as she leant her head against the stone.

“That doesn’t sound like you’re alright.”

Robin avoided the eye contact Cordelia tried to make, instead staring at the space between her eyes.

“I just went outside for a breather and Gaius—” Her fists clenched as she thought back to the conversation, and she rolled so her back was against the wall, head tilted up and staring at the decrepit fort's ceiling.

“I don’t know. We just talked and he gave me advice.”

Cordelia was silent and Robin didn't dare look her way. When she finally did speak it was one word.

“About?”

Advice about….

“Life. A life in Ylisse.” Robin breathed the words like it were a sinful confession. Cordelia accepted them like a faithful priest, humming, internalizing and then speaking.

“Sounds like good advice.”

Robin pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut. Words cluttered her mind as she tried to pick the right ones out. The right ones to make an argument, a defense of her... no. She wouldn't use that word.

She searched for a defense and nothing more. And as such nothing came. So she opened her eyes and gave up.

“I suppose…” She conceded and looked back at Cordelia.

She expected Cordelia to push the subject more. Or even question her on her reluctance at such an ideal. But when she turned her gaze, Robin found Cordelia's eyes glued to a figure halfway across the room. Who from this distance, Robin could still make out. A figure with bright blue hair and drink-induced rosy cheeks.

As ever, Cordelia was enamoured by Chrom.

For a moment she considered laying a hand on Cordelia's arm. Offering words of support and encouragement. Robin knew better than anyone here what such a distant and aching pining felt like. But Robin's hand only twitched and faltered at her side. Her tongue tied and couldn't find the words.

What came out was fumbled and factual. Stiff and scripted. Over-considered and over-thought to the point of bland conventionality. As usual, Robin fell short of saying something meaningful and instead spoke the obscenely obvious.

"He's gonna pick a queen soon, y'know."

Robin appreciates that Cordelia doesn’t burst into laughter in response. Laughter that would have been bitter or hurt. Instead Cordelia took a deep breath, not once taking her eyes from Chrom’s smiling face.

"Oh, I am well aware."

Cordelia did not look away. Eyes glassy with equal part alcohol and equal part affection.

"So why not… talk to him?" Robin tapped a foot against the floor anxiously. The answer to this was obvious… right? Was she missing something?

Slowly Cordelia turned to her. Those eyes that had briefly gleamed with yearning looked to Robin with a pitiful stare.

"Robin even on the tiny, little, off chance that he somehow has managed to feel anything that even resembles romance in the slightest but towards me…"

She paused and sympathy pangs struck Robin’s core like an arrow.

"I can't be queen. I have the pegasus knights to rebuild. I have my own responsibilities."

The last pegasus knight. With all that was going on, Robin had nearly forgotten the two massacres that occurred within their ranks. Such were the repeated blows their side had taken on their way to this night.

"And you'd give him up for that?” To rebuild the knights from square one… it would be a daunting task. The training and acquisition of pegasi would be a feat on it’s own, not mentioning the recruitment of women to take up blade, bow, lance or staff.

Cordelia’s smile didn’t reach her eyes as her gaze drifted again. Robin expected her eyes to divert once again to Chrom, but instead her stare kept moving. They focused on a figure so focused upon leaning against a wall one would’ve thought she’d have fallen were the two separated.

"I gave him up a long time ago." Cordelia told Robin while staring at her best friend, and only other pegasus rider.

Who in turn, as she shuffled her feet and pressed her back to the wall, stared on at Chrom, with the same glassy look Robin had seen in Cordelia’s face a thousand times before. No...

"Sumia?" Robin hissed under her breath like she was swearing with a small child nearby.

Sumia? Sumia was in love with Chrom? And Cordelia? Oh this was all way too much to keep track of.

"She'd do a fine job. And she loves him. And you know what? I love her with all my heart. So if they make each other happy…" Cordelia sighed as she stared at her best friend. Robin was left reeling beside her.

Was Chrom a- No, no he’s Chrom. There was no way he knew. Along with that, there was no way he hadn’t been drawn to someone, right? Miriel, maybe? Or maybe Sumia after all. No, that didn’t matter right now. What came first was Cordelia.

"You deserve to be happy too." They’d make a fine pair, Robin was sure of it. But as her friend turned her gaze and gave her a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, Robin wasn’t so sure they shared that opinion. She was given no chance to challenge Cordelia on it regardless.

"As do you." Like an anchor, her stomach dropped and her heart flipped. Of course it would come back to this.

"I don't want to talk about him…" Especially as he certainly didn’t want to so much as talk to her. Never mind their need to cooperate. Though with the war over… ugh! Robin flexed her fingers and fought the urge to throw a punch at the wall. That wouldn’t solve anything...

"Have you talked?"

Ha. ‘Talked’.

"Do you count screaming and shouting and sniping at each other on a battlefield covered in blood and mud?" They’d interacted plenty of times, certainly.

"I guess."

That… was how most people seemed to bond here, wasn’t it? Huh.

"Then, yes. I guess."

Bonding… she almost laughed. It felt like any possible positive feelings Frederick might’ve once had for her had been obliterated in the line of endless arguments and bad encounters over the past few hellish weeks...

"I think it's worse than before." That’s how it felt. Sure there was a spark in between the sniping and bickering. Moments where for a second she’d let herself dream of a friendship, let alone something more. But alas...

"I don’t know what to do.”

“I wish I had an easy answer.” Robin’s helplessness made it worse. But she refused to let that bring down Cordelia. There were far more important issues for her to give thought to. Tonight was a night of celebration. Even if Robin couldn’t find that energy and bliss within herself, she would make sure Cordelia could.

“Don’t worry about me. This is my problem. You go enjoy yourself.” Robin pressed her hand to Cordelia’s back, finding it lean and muscled. She attempted a light and playful push to move her closer to her friends, or the crowd. But Cordelia barely budged. Perhaps Robin should give physical training more thought...

“You could always come along.” Politely, Cordelia opted to ignore the poor attempt at levity, and Robin hoped the flush on her cheeks would simply be put down to alcohol.

“I don’t… I don’t think this is my kind of fun. I don’t know.”

Cordelia sighed and the burning feeling in Robin’s cheeks spread across her skin, stinging her fingertips and sending her hairs to stick on end.

“If you don’t try you’ll never know.”

“I…” Robin tried to focus on a single face in the crowd but they blurred into one staring mass. Watching, judging, assessing. Her body burned till it was sweating, and then “-need to go rest. I’m tired.”

“If you’re sure…”

“I’m sure. I’ll see you tomorrow, Cordelia.”

“See you tomorrow.”

The exit was easier than the entrance. Embarrassing, yes, as she felt Cordelia's eyes follow her out. But easier. In the time that had passed while Robin had been talking, more had retired into the night. It had to be well into the early hours of the morning, Robin decided, as she deftly and swiftly found her way out the door.

The cold sweat that had coated her body betrayed her further. In the cold night air it left her back damp, and her hair limp. As if an icy bucket had been tipped over her as a joke, and now she was wallowing in the aftermath.

The heavy weight she'd carried all night did not lift from her shoulders as she slipped outside. Instead hung low and ached, begging her for rest. The cold air wasn't like a refreshing drink. It was ice entering her lungs and perforating her skin.

Robin felt no relief as she stood outside the fort. She felt nothing still as her eyes locked onto the one figure in the dark that wasn't dancing in the fort or dreaming in their tent.

Robin heaved a sigh so hard it hurt. She watched a tall figure mill around the edge of the tentline. Bending down and popping up at random in a way Robin found familiar.

It shouldn’t have taken her notice. There had to be many returning to their tent. Yet her eyes were drawn, once again to his movements. Her breath caught once again as she recognised the tall silhouette.

Was… he… clearing pebbles…?

“Of course.” She breathed through her nose and shut her eyes for a second. No. No, she would return to bed like she’d planned. She would sleep and forget all about him for now. She would not open her eyes to continue staring at him. She would not pick up her feet across dewy grass and silently approach. She would not keep her figure half concealed beside that of a taller tent, her fingertips grazing the rough texture of it’s cloth. Her eyes never breaking from the figure of Frederick, standing soundly at the edge of the treeline, staring at the mass of pebbles that no doubt lay in his palm.

Oh how he surely would have laughed at her quick defeat. But Frederick was soundless. Emotionless as he walked to the closest tree and tipped his hand, letting the pebbles fall past his long fingers. Each made a soft thud as they bounced off the roots and found their resting place. In silence they both listened. A breeze rustled the trees. Robin’s heart thundered in her chest. Frederick stared on at his fingers.

What on earth was he thinking about?

They weren’t happy thoughts. Robin surmised as much as his fingers curled into a fist and clenched. As he let out a gruff and angry sound. As he turned on his heel and stormed into the forest, unaware of the big, round eyes that followed him as he left.

Robin lost sight of him beyond the treeline. As if he were the leaves himself, his ruffled brown hair, his plain shirt and trousers, all colour was lost in the greenery. Greenery that looked blue under the dimly moonlit sky.

And that should have been it. Robin should have shrugged his behaviour off and returned to her tent. She should have settled under her covers and finally allowed herself some semblance of a good night's rest.

Perhaps that was why she was already out of the campground, stepping cautiously through the particular cluster of trees that Frederick disappeared behind.

Robin followed his distant movement. Her feet landed blindly where she assumed his did, her eyes trained on the shifting leaves and shaking branches. That was how it was for minutes. Him charging forward, her doing her best to follow him like a shadow. Until the movement stopped. Until she stopped herself just short of falling beyond the forest line, grabbing a tree for support and darting behind it. She squeezed her eyes shut and held her breath. Waiting for his stern, furious voice. But there eas no such calling of her name.

When Robin peeked around she found a stretch of grass and dirt, leading to a creek. No doubt it was somehow connected to the river she'd sat beside the before. Trying to force destructive thoughts out of her mind and into the flow to be washed away.

Frederick seemed to have had a similar idea.

Back turned, head hung, fists clenched. He was like a young pine, growing by the rivers edge. Staring into, close to hanging over the quick running water. He didn’t say anything. All that could be heard was the rustle and moan of old trees, tired and swaying in a cool breeze.

She shouldn’t have followed him. The realization is a pit in her stomach and it begs her feet to run. To slip away and pretend she had not witnessed this private moment. But Robin did not. All of her that moved were loose strands of white hair, close to being tangled within sticks and low hanging branches.

Were she still before, she was a statue the moment Frederick spoke.

"Why are you here?” Accusatory was his tone. He still faced the flowing water, back harshly turned. But there was no doubt to who he was addressing. His words carved Robin out, from wooden block into a sculpture of detail and focus. He brought her to reality and fixed her to the ground as if she and the earth itself were one and the same. Rooted to the ground. Fight or flight went through it’s familiar course in her mind, but her body had already decided for her.

That familiar flare lit in her stomach. Her muscles tensed defensively and without hesitation she let herself go to the fire of irritation that took her. Nevermind that she had just interrupted him.

“To make sure you don’t drown yourself." At that he turned, and she could make out his face in the moonlight. Most at least. That strong nose, and line of a mouth. It wasn’t hard to guess he was scowling. He was staring at her, after all. When he took a step towards her, the top of his face was revealed. Clear as day, save the brown hairs which had fallen to his forehead in a way that Robin refused to find distracting.

He stared at her unblinking. His eyes were harsher than she'd ever seen them. He gazed at her like sandpaper rubbing against a rough grain. Robin looked down at her shoes, her emotions settling in her stomach.

"I… to make sure you’re alright.“ It was half the truth. Half curiosity, half her genuine concern. But she was sure it was as believable as a lie.

She stepped out from behind the tree and walked to where the grass and dirt began. A few meters separated the two. Robin was fine with keeping that distance as Frederick studied her like he had a million times before. It’s only when she forced herself to meet his gaze that he spoke. After five torturous seconds of staring into each other's eyes.

“Why do you care?”

“Because... I…” What a good, poignant question. Why did she care? Robin feared she’d be forced to come up with anything but the truth. Still he analyzed her movements, killing every word in her mind. Her fingers flexed and she fought the urge to shake them out, her jaw tensed. Something inside her pushed a feeling of embarrassment. It only grew worse when he spoke again.

"Because you think of me as a friend?" He paused and then sighed as he spoke his next sentence. Nearly bitterly amused by the mere notion of it. It was nearly funny.

"Us? Friends? We are not.” Robin’s eye twitched and her jaw set. Why did she care? She wouldn’t tell him that. He could never know that, especially when Robin could barely put a finger on the emotions herself. Still, in the face of such an opponent she would try. If not for the sake of explanation, then the satisfaction of winning an argument with him.

“Yes, Frederick. You have made me very aware of that.” She snapped and watched his face. The anger fired out of her through those short words. She was too tired to keep it fanned, and there was no point in keeping such a temper alight with him. Frederick’s expression stayed the same and Robin found no intent to speak in his eyes, so with a sigh she kept going.

“But... you’re Chrom’s friend. And you’re their- you’re everyone else's friend. They— the shepherds all care for you in some way. We aren't friends. Maybe we will never be friends. But that doesn’t mean I can’t think you're a good person.” Even if his current behaviour certainly didn’t give that impression. That shocked him though. Just for a second but even in the dim moonlight she could see his eyebrows raise, his mouth open just a fraction.

“And here I was under the impression you found me detestable.” It was Robin’s turn to nearly laugh. Her shoulders slumped and her arms went limp at her sides. She rolled her eyes so dramatically it felt a little embarrassing, but she was far past the point of caring.

“I don’t hate you because you hate me. I don’t hate you at all.” Dislike, maybe. He frustrated her at the very least. But there was no hate. As much as he may have wanted him too, there was simply no way. He had no qualities she could dislike. Robin couldn’t say the same for herself.

“You're noble. And you’re kind, even if you aren’t to me. I understand why you don’t trust me. I wouldn’t trust me either.”
At this he crossed his arms. Assessing- always assessing her- with less hostility for once.

“I thought you didn’t know anything about yourself.”

“I assure you, I don’t.” Silence. Neither pushed, waiting for the other to test the waters. To accuse or defend. Robin found herself withering in the quiet. Rotting on the inside. She didn’t know. She didn’t know, but she did. She knew things- fleeting little things about the person she had been existing as these few months. The only Robin she’d been or known. It rotted her from the inside out.

“But I know I want… I don’t want to be this way. I want to be- I want to be good. To be better.” That was all well and good to say. It sounded good too, but she still wasn’t sure. Robin wasn’t sure what that means yet. Better was such an easy goal to pick. Improvement is so basic to strive to, it’s everyone's dream. But to be better? Emotionally? Physically? Morally? Is that what she wanted?

“Good… good is different to how you are now?” In the silence Robin had nearly forgotten him. He hadn’t forgotten her evidently. When her glassy eyes focused on his form he found his never breaking stare. His ever bending brow. A look in his eyes she simply could not parse.

“Yes.”

“So what are you?” Better was something else. Something other. Robin was… is… but nothing solid stayed. Nothing positive clicked or fit with the image in her mind. Blank. Blank. Blank.

“I don’t know,” She didn’t mean to sound so pathetic. Her voice broke and she swallowed. “But I hate it. I hate it too.”

Her body relaxed. Slumped, more like. She’d become so accustomed to feeling tense she’d not even noticed how tightly coiled she was.

‘I don’t hate you, Robin.” It was a lie. At the very least, Robin felt it was. She searched his face again and again she did not understand.

“Then why do you act like you do?” He avoided her gaze and for once she felt proud. Or at least satisfied that he got to experience what she had to, every time he pushed and pressed. For once he scrambled for words. He stood silent, waiting and willing the answer into his head.

“It’s like you said. Your story and condition... I take my role as milord and milady’s knight more importantly than anything else in my life. I couldn’t trust you out of nowhere, not with Plegia’s history and your… Robes. So I kept you at arm’s length. Now… I don’t know what happens now. But I don’t hate you.”

Frederick looked her in the eye as he spoke. Unfaltering, unwavering. He didn’t hate her. Robin would have felt elated at the news some weeks ago but now… now...

“How am I supposed to know that?” Her voice cracked as she spoke and Frederick’s eyebrows shot up. She did not waver and steeled herself.

“How was I supposed to know that? I don’t know anything.”

She received a scoff in response. Suddenly, there was that anger. Like whiskey on the back of her throat. So warm, it was becoming so familiar.

“That’s blatantly untrue.”

“Oh sure I know how to fight. I know magic. I can take a life. But that’s it."

‘That’s it’ she says as if it’s such a small thing. But it’s big. Bigger than she thinks he realizes. Battles, killing it’s all so easy for her. Why was it so easy for her? Why was it off the battlefield, she...

"I don’t get people. At all. I don’t understand what people mean when they don’t say it outright. I don't understand small talk or— or conversations that aren't one on one! I don’t understand social cues. Body language, I can barely make eye contact because it’s so painful! I don’t know anyone well. I can’t talk to people I don’t know. I can’t… I can’t talk to people."

Robin paused and swallowed, staring at his chest now. Her insides burned and she couldn’t look him in the eye.

"I don’t think I ever will.“ Small, breaking. Her voice left her like the sound of a slow, broken grindstone. Tears stung her eyes but she forced them back. She breathed in deep and fought every instinct in her body that told her not to look at Frederick. Painfully, she could not meet his eyes. She focused on his nose.

“But I think… I think I know why you’re out here.”

“I am… patrolling.” Frederick isn’t very good at lying. Or perhaps he wasn’t prepared to be caught. He hadn’t prepared a lie.

Robin still couldn’t look him in the eyes. Her eyes stinging, her fingers twitching. She smiled at him with such deep melancholy one would have thought her a shade or ghost. Left to mournfully walk the earth after death. Her purpose, to bring to light one painful truth.

“You loved her.”

Crickets chirped, the wind rustled the leaves and Robin’s heart ached when Frederick did not answer.

But it didn’t break.

“It was different. How you talked to her, about her. Different to how you love Lissa and Chrom.”

He talked like he would protect Lissa and Chrom till the end, because he would. Everyone knew he would lay down his life for the exalt bloodline. That he was fully prepared to, that day. He talked like they were the future, which they were, and he talked…

Robin took another breath. Like Emmeryn was the one who protected them all. Who protected him, in a way. Not with weapon or spell. Not with command but with a soothing voice. A friendly aura. An outstretched hand. Just like her brother.

Emmeryn was peace. And she was everything to her people. To her family. And to him.

He who stood in front of Robin, unknowing of the effect he had on her. Unknowing of the attention he always had from her.

Forever unknowing.

Robin swallowed her feelings. Just as Frederick had. She let them find their place in the familiar emptiness in her chest. That void of her self.

And she smiled at him. Comforting,

“You’re hurting. I don't like seeing you in pain.” Robin wasn’t sure when her voice got so soft. Nor when her eyes had stopped stinging.

“I can't really— I… I'm not good at talking. And I doubt you would talk to me because of how we— I— Look, I want to help. So if I can help… If we could…" Another deep breath and the smile fell.

"Can we agree, that even if we'll never be friends— If we never get along... if we decide we actually do hate each other, that we can approach one another with a little more respect?”

Robin is ready to be shot down. For the conversation to end here, just as it had in his bedroom in Regna Ferox. What seemed like months ago.

But it didn't.

Frederick opened his mouth and stood there. For a few seconds she just stared at his nose and his mouth. Avoiding his gaze, his judgement. Waiting in agony for a final answer.

“I can agree to that.”

And just like that it was over. In theory, at least the nebulous mix of distrust and dislike. The tension, the staring. Over. With a simple conversation. Spurred by a fortnight of atrocities.

It was the first thing he’d said since his defense. Before that silent confession. It was the gentlest thing he’d said in her presence. The corners of Robin’s mouth turned up, but it wasn’t a smile. She wasn’t happy. She wasn’t… anything.

“Okay.” Robin thought and then realized she'd said aloud.

“Okay.” Frederick repeated like a mimic. Robin still wouldn't meet his gaze.

"Okay." She whispered again. Shutting her eyes. She rubbed her face.

She didn't have to be an expert socializer to know that this conversation was over. Frederick, regardless, made the first move.

“Goodnight, Robin.”

Her eyes opened. His back was turned to her, looking out over the river. He didn't speak again. Robin isn't even sure if he hears her as she leaves.

“Goodnight.”

That was the last thing Robin said that night. She left Frederick beside the river and retired to her bed of grass, back at the campsite just a little bit away from it all. She'd planned on staying up a bit more. She wanted to take the time to think under the stars. Surely it would be better to let herself absorb it all? No. That wasn't the case.

Days of fighting and nights of crying caught up with her. She could not disobey her body or ignore her wellbeing any longer. Like hands pulling her down, her exhaustion dragged her aching body into the soft, if itchy green. They pulled her into oblivion. She shut her eyes and let herself go.

Robin slept and did not dream.

Chapter Text

The Ylissean capitol was standing when the Shepherds returned home. Tall, battered. But standing, nonetheless.

They parted ways with the Khans some time before, offering immense thanks and the promise of a favour in return. From there, the shepherds and what was left of their army trudged home. Stopping in villages over the weeks it took to return to the capitol. Each small cluster of homes and roads filled with tearful, relieved Ylisseans offering care and aid to their beloved Exalt.

It was around that time Robin stopped wearing her cloak. She’d wrapped it in burlap and hidden it alongside Cordelia’s things, with the pegasus knights permission. She walked with her shoulders bare for most of the week-long journey. Loathe to draw unnecessary and potentially damning attention her way, even with the war now over.

Ylisse was still Ylisse when they returned home. Battered, with many a broken building and wall in need of repair. But strong. Standing tall and proudly. Just like it’s people.

They were all lucky the Plegians had no time to cause significant damage. Their goal had been only to grab Exalt Emmeryn and get out as quickly as possible. A relief to the shepherds, who had expected much of the city to have been slaughtered and sacked.

Much of the damage to the city had been repaired, if a little crudely in places, thanks to cunning work of those who lived there. Adaptable as their leader, who they welcomed home with wide eyes and open arms.

The shepherds walked through the gates towards streets up to the castle, between cheers and tearful welcomes home from their families and friends alike.

Chrom thanked those who worked so hard to keep the city running in his absence. Frederick kept the worst of the crowds at bay. Maribelle and Ricken greeted their families, who scolded the latter in return. Vaike, Sully and Stahl went to their friends, Lissa to Maribelle. Kellam was somewhere in there, Robin was sure. Virion greeted the young ladies loitering with blushes by the gates. Cordelia and Sumia too had their families to return to. Even Libra received a welcome by medics and priests eager for a helping hand.

Robin had hung back and watched them all. A soft smile on her face she gave them a few minutes before turning up the street to walk to the castle alone. This decision took her through the halls of the beautiful cathedral-like structure and into the path of a maid. Things then snowballed from there.

“It’s a little empty, but I’m sure you’ll fill it with your things in no time.” The maid was an older woman, who Robin had made an acquaintance with during her first visit to the castle. She patted the tacticians back, a warm smile on her face.

Upon arriving, Robin informed what maids and guards that were around of their return, eying up the damage to the front of the castle, and much of the walls. After clarifying the details, those who had hounded her quickly fell away to prepare the castle for the Shepherds and the Royal family.

All but one maid —the one she’d met prior— stayed behind.

Robin had been led to a little room, down the hall from many others. Round and within an old tower on the castle's right-hand side, overlooking the barracks, training grounds and some of the city. It was a rustic thing. Warm, homely.

Most shockingly, it was hers, according to the sweet maid. Martha, Robin believed her name was.

Inside the room had a double bed with four fluffy pillows and plain white linen. A bedside table with a lamp. 2 large bookcases that stood completely empty, a table and chair and a set of drawers. Likely empty as well. All the wood was medium brown in colour against the cold grey stone. It certainly made the room seem bigger, with it’s 2 small windows. But it did nothing to add to the character.

Robin loved it.

“Is this really for me?” She murmured, holding her forearms as she walked slowly through, staring at every detail. The maid smiled.

“Of course dear. You’ll need a place to sleep if you’re to stay. Now, kitchens are a floor down, bathrooms down the hall to the right, laundry to the left. You share this floor with a couple of the other shepherds, though many have homes of their own in the city. If you need anything you just give me a call, okay. Robin?”

With a start Robin came back to reality, her eyes glued to the training ground down below. It was empty. A long stretch of grass, gravel and dirt with the odd bars, wooden stumps and training dummies. She made note of its appearance as she nodded and cleared her throat.

“Yes, right! I... um. It’s a shared bathroom?”

“Yes, dear. Oh, but we do have it separated, so you don’t have to worry about walking in on… Vaike, or anyone of the likes.” Martha smiled a tight smile and her eyes clouded for a second of what Robin was sure was the grossest and worst memory the woman had.

Right. She would shower only when she was sure no one was around then. Just in case. When the others were away. Like… now.

“Would I… Would I be able to take a bath?” The anticipation in her voice was quite silly, but who could have blamed her? They’d lost their tents and things during the rescue attempt. Robin could not remember the last time she’d had a bath. A proper bath, not in the water of some freezing river, hurriedly squeezing out her hair before any of the soldiers passed by and saw.

“Of course! Why wouldn't you?” A sigh left Robin’s lungs at the confirmation. Warm water and soap. Gods, it was just what she needed.

“I… I’m just being silly. Excuse me.” Robin laughed and coughed awkwardly, but Martha didn’t make any comment of it. She only nodded her head and smiled.

“Alright. Well, I’ll be off. Call if you need something dear, someone will be sure to help. I’ve got to hurry, I’ll need to go prepare Lady Lissa’s room, and clean up for Exalt Em-” She cut herself off and then swallowed. Her smile wasn’t reaching her eyes anymore.

“Milord Chrom.”

“Of course.” Robin nodded, guilt settling in her stomach. Martha nodded and took her leave, her soft footsteps fading away to nothing as Robin stared up at the roof and then sighed. She’d look for the bathroom, she decided. Anything to distract and occupy her mind.

It wasn’t difficult to find. Robin simply followed Martha’s instructions. It was empty, thank the gods, and she wasted no time making good use of its absence of people.

She must have been in there 20 minutes. Her hair done up in a towel she made her way back to her room. There was no longer grease and dirt stuck in her tangled hair. No oils stuck to her skin, leaving behind on her pillows or clothes she slept against, making her skin crawl when she tried to sleep at night.

The only tricky thing was her clothes. They were, after all, only clothes she owned. She’d done her best to wash out the stains in a smaller tub and dried them out with a wind tome. She’d done a good enough job for what she had on hand, but her shirt and pants had seen better days. Still, they were wearable, so wear them she did.

Robin huffed and rubbed her towel over her face. As she worked at drying her clean hair, making sure the door was shut, she looked around the room.

Her room.

Her own space here in the castle. It was surreal, but here she was. 4 walls and a roof.

Robin sat down on her bed. Her bed. It was just a mattress and a sheet, but as she spread out her fingers and slowly lowered herself down into its mass she couldn’t help but sigh.

The sun shone down onto her gently laid out body. Yellow and soft it poked through the window like the bright, burning star itself had reached out to gently lay a hand on her bare skin. The spot she’d laid on was warm and despite the lack of sheets Robin couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so comfortable. Not since they’d last visited Regna Ferox at least.

The Khans had returned safely. A letter arrived before they returned home. For the Khans, it was a thankfully short trip. They’d begun post-war negotiations with the new Plegian leader, who had surrendered the moment he’d taken to the throne. Chrom would too join the talks in the coming weeks, after his coronation. Robin hoped the new Plegian king was a reasonable man. Hoped. She did not even know his name, let alone his disposition towards conflict. Still, she hoped and she prayed despite the hesitance that sat heavy in the back of her mind…

“You’ve certainly settled in easily.”

No sooner had she laid down, Robin shot upright so quickly her head briefly spun. She had no need to focus on the figure that stood in her open doorway, however, the drawling lilt of its tone had betrayed their identity.

“Tharja,” Robin said with a half-relieved sigh. The dark mage leaned against the doorway, one arm across her front while the other held up a hand that hung limp at the wrist. Her face bore a half-smile, framed by a curtain of long black hair.

“Plain, isn’t it?” She sighed, looking over the simple furniture. It was an amusing thing for the woman to say, considering her apparel.

There Tharja was. Mysterious. Slightly threatening. Dressed in an oversized linen shirt, a brown belt, and a black pair of pants, not unlike Robin’s own.

Robin had no idea why the woman usually so... well-dressed… nicely…. Suitably dressed, by her standards at least, was wearing such boring garb.

Robin bit back a laugh and followed Tharja’s gaze around the room, finding it hard to agree with her fellow mage’s opinion of her room.

“I actually like it. Well, for now.” It was nice. Sure it needed a personal touch, but it was nice. And certainly, things would change when she moved in proper. She could decorate and move things around. Make her mark and bring… her… things…

Oh. Her things. That she’d left in the tent. In that desert. That they abandoned.

Robin had no things.

“I, for one, am looking forward to making my room my own.” Tharja ran a finger along Robin’s windowsill and inspected her fingertip. Checking for dust.

“You have a room?” Robin asked with a tilted head. Tharja sauntered more than walked around the room. She’d have looked truly threatening in an attractive way, were her clothing not so lumpy and shapeless. That didn’t seem to matter so much, as the mage observed the room with extreme focus. Tharja inspected it curtains with her long fingers, eyeing the stone walls closely. She gave the glass in the windows a tap and tilted her head as she looked up and trailed along the grain of the wood in the ceiling with her eyes. Whatever it was Tharja was looking for, she was making the search thorough.

“Yes, a few doors down from you in fact. Funny coincidence.” Shockingly, Robin didn’t think that was a coincidence. But that wasn’t the most important thing that plagued her mind.

“Can I ask why you’re dressed—”

“Like a stableboy?” Tharja’s eyes shot to Robin’s but she didn’t look offended. Despite her deadpanned tone a half-smile that showed her teeth spread across her face. Tharja lifted one arm outward and made her wrist limp in the air. She placed the other on her hip casually, posing for Robin, who could not hide an amused smile.

“I was informed my clothes may incite some, ah- discomfort within the people here. Can’t exactly walk around in the enemy’s garb, hm?” Ah. Same reason Robin had ditched the coat. She was lucky her own shirt and pants were so discreet. Stained despite the soap and in great need of a tailors repair, but discreet.

“As such, I am waiting for my pay. Then I can return to my comforts and make my room so much more… me.” At that, Robin’s face blanched.

“Your… pay?” Tharja… was employed? By who?

“Oh my word, don’t tell me you actually went ahead with all this work without asking for gold.” Robin’s eyes went wide. Oh. Oh, of course.

Yes, Robin berated herself. Tharja was employed! In the army!

And so was she.

It was really quite obvious now she thought about it. Stupid that she hadn’t thought of her sooner/ The 3 odd months she’d been with the Shepherds, somehow, it hadn’t occurred to her once. She was fed within the army, she was provided with what she needed while she fought. Now, the war was over. She was in a city.

She would need to buy things. She would need to have things. She would need gold. By being a tactician, in the army, a soldier as well, meant she was employed.

How had she never thought of that?

“I… It seemed like the right thing to do!” Was all she could come up with. It wasn’t so sound a defence as she spluttered with her cheeks growing warm.

“So idealistic… it’s cute, really.” Robin huffed and rolled her eyes. She shuffled to the edge of the bed and crossed her legs. Too many questions fired off in her mind for her to hold any grudge at Tharja’s teasing. It was these questions that quickly spilt forth from her mouth.

“How much are you being paid?” She asked. Would she need to pay for her room? Her dinner? Her clothes absolutely… and furniture, books, new ink and paper…

Tharja spoke as the list of things Robin needed grew longer. Each new material item punching a hole in her stomach.

“The amount any soldier would, I would assume. Though I do know it’s less than I was paid in Plegia. I forget how little wealth this country has... Oh well. Hardly the worst of my problems. I expect you’ll receive whatever the tactician earns. More than me I suppose. Quite a bit of money, I hear.”

Quite a bit. Right. Robin bit her lip as her brow furrowed.

How much was quite a bit? What was the economy of this country even like? Surely things were worse because of the war… How much were the rooms in the last town she’d passed? The beers Chrom had ordered at the tavern? Would Robin be paid for all her battles? Or was it set by day? Hour? No, surely hour would be hard to figure out…

“When?” Robin said aloud and then wanted to punch herself for the worst question she’d ever asked. Naga was on her side it seemed, however, and by some miracle, Tharja understood what she’d meant.

“When do we get paid, you mean? I was told to see some steward when I could. Naturally, I assumed Frederick, but he gave me quite the evil eye. Not happy being called a butler, that one. Or anything other than a knight. You can hardly blame me, what with that stuffy suit he’s begun to wear.”

Robin could not stifle her laughter and Tharja smiled in response. It was different from how she normally smiled. Robin felt no impending dread, nor that an ulterior motive was in play. Tharja smiled simply because she seemed happy. Robin liked that smile.

Frederick... Robin hadn’t talked to him since their confrontation at the waterfront. And while he no longer glowered at her as she went by and she no longer withered under his gaze, it was clear he was avoiding her. The last thing she was going to do was be the one to break that stalemate. Not at the risk of making things bad again.

“I don’t even know where I would begin with my own money.” She distracted herself with this thought. Sure, she had her list, but where would she start? Should she start? Perhaps she should save it up and make a list? She felt silly once again. Gold was how they acquired weapons, supplies, armour. How could she have expected to start her life without it? Foolish, really.

“You could start with a second change of clothes. Or some pyjamas. Decorations for your room- Anything to make you look more Ylissean, I’d imagine.”

‘Look’ more Ylissean. Robin knew that she didn’t look Ylissean. She stuck out like a sore thumb. What she didn’t know was how to look Ylissean. How to emulate the culture. She didn’t even know what culture she was a part of. She didn’t know if her taste was going to be influenced unknowingly by that blurry past.

What Robin didn’t know was too vast to be contained in a simple list.

But Tharja… Well, she didn’t know for sure. She didn’t know anything about Robin, much less her nationality. Because that required Robin to know anything about herself. But she had an idea, surely. One that Robin had caught onto with their conversation before the final battle, where she’d been emboldened to put all her hope into a stick and some mud. Because of Tharja’s words.

“You think I’m Plegian, don’t you?” Robin asked.

Tharja didn’t blink or flinch. Leaning against a far wall beside the blank dresser, her expression did not change as her mouth opened and she spoke.

“I know you are.” Robin, for all her not knowing was worth, did not question it. She did not argue. Mainly because she wasn’t sure how to. How does one prove or disprove that? When every culture and nation is an unknown? But Robin also did not argue because if anyone was going to have a good idea of what a Plegian looked like, Tharja would be the one to know.

“Do you think the others know?”

This made Thajra laugh. A chuckle that sounded quite evil, if Robin were to be honest. Robin, she didn’t make assumptions about a personality by a laugh. Though Tharja’s techniques were… colourful, on the battlefield, her actions were equal to Robin and all the others who had fought. Who had killed. The only difference was how.

“If they don’t then they’re fools,” Tharja said sharply. Fools felt harsh. Compassionate was the word that came first to her mind. But as Tharja stared Robin down, she couldn’t help but begin to consider the mages' words.

It was foolish. Foolish to jump so quickly to her aid. To trust her, as Chrom and Lissa did. To give her a command even with her background of nothing, all because of a few instincts. It was foolish and compassionate. Foolish and truly, wonderfully betraying of all that made Chrom, Lissa and the others who accepted her such good people.

“Then why… Why did they help me? If they knew?” Robin knew the answer. She’d come to that realization months ago and reiterated it in her mind over and over again. It was who they were, it was their nature. But Tharja…

What did Tharja think?

“I don’t know.” She shrugged and turned her gaze. Though Robin lacked quite a bit of social awareness, she could tell that that at least was the truth.

“Robin, what can you tell me about Plegia.” Tharja’s back was turned as she stared out the window. Robin couldn’t quite place her tone. She couldn’t see her eyes.

Plegia… well...

“Uhm… I know about the Grimleal. I know that they have quite a bit of money. I know about the Mad King. That there was a war and Chrom’s father fought in it.”

Blood rose in Robin’s cheeks as the clumsy words left her lips. So little. So bare. It was embarrassing. But surely not unexpected? She was an amnesiac of course.

“Can you name any towns? Aside from the capital? Any people?” Tharja turned her head and Robin could see half her face. The woman's stare was sharp but not hostile. Not angry. Just… sharp.

“I…” There was nothing about that in her books. The ones she had studied in the castle library before they’d travelled to Regna Ferox. Books she’d read hurriedly to prepare for the war. Those books told her only of fighting and conflict. The capital, the palace and it’s weak points. The soldiers and their formations, tactics and ranks. No history beyond mentions of the war. No culture aside from the Grimleal. These writings had told her everything she’d needed to know to fight them. They’d also told her nothing at all.

“Interesting.” Tharja hummed when Robin didn’t respond. Her stomach flipped as Tharja tilted her head. The sharpness was gone. She still wasn’t hostile. Very simply, Tharja was thinking. And for the life of her, Robin could not figure out what or whom she was thinking about.

“What is?”

“It’s nothing,” Tharja responded and Robin felt like- knew that wasn’t the case, but before she could push Tharja any further two raps on the wooden doorframe caught both the women’s attention.

The two pairs of eyes snapped to the figure in the doorway with the speed of which a soldier draws a sword from its sheath. But the alert reaction was not necessary. In the doorway, the two women found the farthest thing from a threat.

Tall but shy, her hand still raised like she’d feared the knocks had been lost to non-existent noise. Robin smiled as she met the eyes of the newly appeared woman who hesitated in the frame of her door.

“Oh— Sumia!”

Sumia smiled sweetly and looked between the women cautiously.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t sure if I was interrupting or— I—”

“It’s okay. What did you need?” Robin waved her hand. She could speak with Tharja on this… subject, another time. Sumia cleared her throat and looked around the room curiously. Just once, before her eyes snapped back to Robin.

“Well, I was just wondering how you were settling in.”

Tharja let out a sharp laugh and leaned back on one arm, admiring her nails as she stretched out the other.

“As well as one can, when they have nothing to their name.”

Sumia’s hand raised up and over her mouth, her eyes snapped back to Robin and her eyes widened a fraction.

“Oh! Robin, I’m so sorry! I completely forgot!” Robin smiled awkwardly, not sure what Sumia had to be sorry for. It was hardly her fault they’d had to abandon camp. Plus, it was Robin who had lost Sumia’s book. If anything, Robin should have been the one apologizing.

“It’s not your fault. I’ll just… go out and get some things. At some point.” Robin trailed off awkwardly. Sumia’s eyes lit up briefly.

“Oh, well… are you free right now?”

Now? By the look of the sun in the sky, it was barely noon. But why…

“Why yes, both of us. Why?” Tharja answered for Robin, settling down on the bed beside her.

“Well, I was planning on getting a new rug for my bedroom. The shops are open. It seems the one I had was... Well, it used by a maid to block a fireball. It saved her life, but I’m afraid it's well past saving. Maybe you could come along and take a look in the shops?” Sumia offered kindly. But… Robin hadn’t even begun a list! Surely she’d need to catalogue what she needed? Then organize it by importance of course… Oh! And another thing—

“We’d have to get our pay first.” Robin blurted out. No point in going to just look at things she couldn’t have.

“Oh, I know where to go, I can take you. That is if you want to come along?” Tharja shrugged as Sumia looked between the two. Robin tugged on her sleeve and then stood up.

“I don’t see any reason not to…”

That was enough for Sumia. Before she’d even had a nap, Robin was on her way out of her room to be gone for an unknowable amount of time.

It was a short walk back down the staircases that stood between Robin’s bedroom and the main floor below. Out through the back, quickly through a garden towards the on-site barracks where the shepherds were run. There, Robin found quite a few of her friends. Luckily, none of the individuals there were Frederick.

“Most are out checking in with family. Frederick included. I’m in charge for now.” Cordelia explained to Sumia when she entered. All three women cast a glance at Robin who averted her gaze and tried her best not to let them win by blushing. Sumia explained their reasons for coming to the barracks.

“Right! Robin, your pay…” Cordelia hummed. The woman towered above many weapons scattered about the room. Donnel too was picking through them, sorting them into groups. He raised his hand to wave at the group. As Robin returned it with a small smile, Cordelia went to a collection of crates with smaller boxes inside.

Though she craned her neck, she could not see what Cordelia was rummaging through. Tharja leaned against the sidewall, apparently disinterested with the wait. Sumia too had been distracted while Cordelia cursed to herself and shifted something in a wooden crate that sounded metallic and heavy.

In the corner of her eye, Robin caught as Sumia whispered something into Donnel’s ear. The boy's eyes widened and he pulled away and nodded., before darting out the door. Before Robin had a chance to think about what she witnessed or send Sumia a questioning look, a bag was dropped into her hands with a heavy chink.

“Here you are. That should cover the past 3 or 4 months, and then some.”

“And then some?”

“You think we would have made it out of there without you?” Cordelia flashed her a smile and Robin shyly returned it. It was strange not forcing a smile for once.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to taking stock. Frederick will have my head if I don’t get this finished by the night. And seeing as someone called away my helper—” Sumia smiled innocently as Cordelia shot her a half-serious glare.

“— I suppose I’ll have to do it myself.”

“You’ll get it done twice as quickly then.” Sumia beamed and Cordelia rolled her eyes.

“Just go spend your gold.”

The three didn’t have to be told a second time. As quickly as she had entered the castle, Robin was leaving, her eyes trailing over the palace gates as they passed under them and out into the heart of Ylisse’s town.

The streets were busier than Robin had anticipated. Storefronts were open, despite the damage they’d sustained in the invasion. Splintered wood planks held up roofs and functioned as temporary doors. Burn marks could be seen on the odd cobblestone making up porches and roads. Remnants of the war only finished a few weeks prior stained the city of Ylisse, but it was overwhelmed by the people, who’s determination took all focus.

Robin watched as women stuck their heads out of windows two or three floors up, calling to their neighbour as they hung out washing on long rope lines that crisscrossed above the streets. Children rushed in groups and chains from outdoor staircases leading up to apartment clusters. They danced and swung their arms as they moved with shocking agility down the streets, dodging many yelling or ambling figures and darting past the odd cart. One bumped into Robin and apologised before bursting back into cackling laughter and following his friends who were still going. Robin shared the laughter, though it was softer on her end as she watched them disappear around a corner.

“It’s not too loud?” Sumia asked, her hand hovering over Robin’s shoulder. Robin shook her head. Her chest thrummed with bubbles and sparks. Her eyes caught on brightly covered woven tapestries and flower stalls. Her senses were overwhelmed but for once… that was okay. There were no threats and so much going on she needn’t fear anyone paying too close attention to her. In a way, the chaos was contained around her, and she could move quickly and worry about her own agenda.

It was a bit like a battlefield, except that it wasn’t at all. She shook the thought from her head and ignored the bad taste at the back of her mouth, focusing instead on the colours.

“No, no it’s wonderful…”

“Sumia?!”

The three had their attention pulled to a small but elegant looking store with fabric in the windows. A portly woman with a round and warm face stood outside beside the steps with a broom in hand. She had dark brown hair pulled into a bun atop her head and a floral dress covered by an apron. Her hands cupped around her mouth. There was no doubt about who she was calling out to.

“Lisel!” Sumia’s face lit up like how a fire tome sparked in Robin’s hand. Without much thought, she ran across the road and nearly made it the whole way, before catching her toe on a raised cobblestone and hitting the ground with a hearty thud. Tharja cursed under her breath and darted across the road with Robin in tow. Both arrived as the woman helped Sumia to her feet.

“Yep, you’re Sumia all right.” Liesel sighed fondly. Sumia rubbed her chin and looked away for a second, clearing her throat.

“I’m happy you’re okay.” The pegasus knight said with red cheeks as the woman shook her head. To Robin’s bewilderment, she began brushing the dust off of Sumia’s clothes, and Sumia let her. Both Robin and Tharja shared a look.

“I’m happy you made it home! Your mother’s been worried sick. You did see her when you got home, didn’t you?” Liesel fussed like she herself was Sumia’s mother, which did nothing to help the red flush on Sumia’s cheeks.

“Of course, it was the first thing I did!”

Liesel nodded at Sumia’s words but didn’t answer. Her gaze had been drawn beyond Sumia’s shoulder. To where Robin and Tharja hung, like two bees around a bright flower.

“Who’re your friends?” Rather bluntly the woman asked, staring at Tharja and Robin with… not a sternness. Robin knew what it was like to be stared at by someone stern. No, Liesel’s stare was firm. Like a good handshake. A handshake that had grabbed and one unable to move.

“Tharja.” Tharja introduced herself casually.

“I’m Robin. It’s nice to meet you.” Robin managed to follow up Tharja’s blunt response. It was a pretty good effort from both of them, all things considered. Liesel considered them for a few more seconds before shrugging.

“Liesel. Old friend of Sumia’s mother. And Cordelia’s. You tell that girl to get down here too, will ya’? We heard about what happened. To Phila and her knights. Thought you were dead, we did. I ought to give you and that girl a clout around the head lost me so much sleep you did.” Her hands came up to Sumia’s face, holding them like a mother would her child.

Robin would have appreciated the sweet moment if it weren’t for her attention being drawn otherwise. Specifically, drawn to Liesel's hands. Specifically, how scarred, thick and muscular they were.

“I’m sorry, Liesel.” Sumia sighed and pushed the hands that looked capable of ripping a log in half away like a child. What was it this woman did? Woodcutter? An old soldier? Had she said?

“I know, kid. So. New shepherd’s, are ya’?” Robin who was looking down at her own slender hands for comparison jolted like a scared cat. Her spine straightened and she addressed Liesel with complete attention.

“Uh- Uh! Yes ma’am.” She barked out like an obedient dog. Liesel’s laugh was like a bark too. The kind a large wolf-dog from Ferox would make, as it sized you up or sensed your fear.

“No need to call me ma’am, girl! I’m a tailor, not a commander.” A tailor?

“And that’s why we’re here.” It was then that Sumia cut back in. Stepping to Liesel’s side, she raised a hand in Robin and Tharja’s direction.

“Robin and Tharja have come back to Ylisse with nothing. Our camp got abandoned and no doubt it’s long been raided and—”

“Say no more. You’re not the only one in need of a new shirt or pants. I had Stahl come in to ask for a new pair of trousers. Vaike too. Begged him to buy a shirt while he was there but I’m no miracle worker.” As she spoke, Liesel walked towards the shop where Robin had first spotted her. She walked past the now abandoned broom, limp on the grey cobble ground, and trotted up the stairs, opening the thick wooden door.

Robin thanked her gently and stepped inside, as did Tharja. When Sumia went to enter, however, Liesel stuck out her arm.

“Oh no. You’re not coming in here till you’ve greeted the street.” Sumia’s face blanched and then twisted in dismay.

“But— But that will take an hour!”

“Well I’m not the one who decided to go to war, am I? Don’t you worry, Cordelia will be doing the same, once she decides to drop by. Least either you can do is show everyone you’re still bloody breathing. Now go on, I’ll get you dressed when you get back. I have numbers to take on your friends. Not everyone’s lucky enough to have their measurements memorized like a religious text, and Naga only knows where I’ve put my tape measurer. Camille? Where is that girl…” Brushing past Robin and Tharja, Liesel entered her shop. The aforementioned women turned their heads to Sumia.

“She’s… she’s right. Look, I promise I’ll be right back.” At this, Robin’s stomach dropped. So she and Tharja were to do this alone? She couldn’t even object as Sumia waved her hand and shut the door.

The tailor's shop was… well, to begin, it was deceivingly small on the outside.

Entering, Robin found a wide room with a high ceiling, neatly bricked stone walls and dark wood plank floors. Windows, 5 in a row, embedded the wall facing the street. Through them sunlight poured and illuminated dust specks dancing in the air, moving to settle on the fabric.

So much fabric.

It sat in piles in corners, hung to bannisters on the ceiling, lightly blowing from a breeze through the farthest window. Some hooks and racks displayed different bolts by bright and muted colours, patterns and fabric type. Bookcases held sewing books and pillows that looked like a tiny archer had buried them in needles. Some pins flashed silver on the floor and as she looked around in awe Robin did her best to avoid them.

Near the centre of the room, Robin’s eyes were drawn. A large oak desk sat with some unfinished and ongoing projects. Beyond, on the right side of the shop, Robin could see clothes and mannequins displaying shirts or dresses. Behind the desk were three curtained rooms.

Liesel cupped her hands around her mouth and called out for her assistant. A soft voice cried out in response from some backroom Robin had yet to set her eyes on. Liesel rolled her eyes and pointed Tharja in the direction of the voice, before calling out once more.

“All right. Camille, you take that lovely lady’s measurements—” She turned around.

“—Robin, was it? You come over here. I think you’re in dire need of something that’ll make you look more like a Shepherd and less of… well, some kind of serf.”

Robin could say nothing to defend herself as she was led to the curtained rooms. As they passed the desk, projects of greens and pinks caught her eye on the table, along with a large loom in the corner that she had missed. But she had no time to take it all in as she was harried behind some intricately coloured and embroidered curtain.

The next room looked as if it were made of fabric itself. Carpets lined the floor, fabrics the ceiling and walls. The only wood she could see were that of a small stool in the centre beside a pile of pillows and a dark oak bannister from which a tape measure and a small container of needles and ribbons hung.

Wordlessly, Liesel guided Robin up onto the stool and grabbed the tape measure and instructed her to kick off her shoes. Robin obliged and her bare feet soon found the feeling of a firm, woven stool cover.

“Now, stand tall. There we go, I’ll just take ya’ height down.”

The tailor's hand came to Robin’s back as she made sure the end of the tape ran from the bottom of her foot to the top of her head. It took all of Robin’s strength not to flinch at the touch. If she had, Liesel did not notice, stepping up on her toes to glimpse the height. Once satisfied she hummed and rolled the tape measure back.

“There we go.”

From there, she began to measure Robin’s body, quietly humming for a minute before the silence became too much for Robin to handle.

“Is Sumia very well known around here?” She blurted out as casually as she could manage. Liesel, bless her, took the conversation and nurtured it from there.

“Oh, of course. Both her and Cordelia made quite the names for themselves round here growing up. Keen on helping those two. Course Cordelia moved to training real quick. Sumia always made time for us though… tried once or twice to be my assistant when she was coming of age. Dreadful tailor. Couldn’t thread a needle without drawing blood. And don’t get me started on the knocked over displays. Ah, but her food? Now that’s something else. You ever had her cooking?”

Robin nodded.

“A couple of times, when she was on kitchen duty.”

“You’re fools to not have had her on every day. Always made sure the lot of us were fed, she did. Making pies and casseroles with her mum. Could make a feast from a shot pigeon and an old carrot she could. Now, raise your arms. That’s it.”

Yes, that sounded like Sumia. Robin smiled and remembered the trip she’d taken on Sumia’s pegasus. It was kind of her, letting Robin take notes on the surroundings from high above.

“She’s always been good to me.” Robin watched Liesel huff a small laugh of agreement and straighten out her back.

“It’s not in her nature, hatefulness and the like. Now, lower your arms. Extend your leg out for me.” Liesel ordered. Like a soldier —which she supposed she was— Robin did as she was told. Liesel changed the subject and asked a question that made Robin really wish they could just go back to talking about Sumia, or Cordelia or really anyone else.

“So, where are you from?”

Robin’s muscles fired and tensed, just for just a second. Should she lie? Could she lie? There’s no way Liesel wouldn’t eventually find out from Sumia or Cordelia, right? They could be trusted of course but...

“Chrom found me in a border town. Recruited me to help him, Lissa and Frederick, after a run-in with some bandits.” Robin’s breath shook as she spoke, but her words didn’t. Technically, it wasn’t a lie. That was how it went down, minus the amnesia, the Plegians, the field— Robin coughed and tried a smile.

Liesel was quiet. She didn’t look up at Robin or away from her work, A few seconds passed and the woman finally spoke without looking at Robin.

“Must be strange. Meeting a prince. Coming to this big city. Overwhelming, yeah?” She mumbled like it was more a thought spoken aloud than a question to Robin.

Strange was… an understatement if Robin was being honest. But she didn’t verbalize this thought, instead shifting her weight on the stool. The muscles in the soles of her feet ached and twinged. Robin hoped that however much this cost, she’d have enough gold left over to get some stronger shoes.

At this point, Liesel had put aside her tape measure.

“You must be good at something if they let you join the shepherds. Always needed more people. Archers and footmen and what have you.” Liesel mumbled and Robin fought the urge to laugh. Were she an archer… that would have been a far more logical reason for Chrom to have recruited her. The truth? That was harder to explain to someone who didn’t know Chrom, or her, or the situation.

Taking on a total stranger as a soldier and tactician? One with no memory at that?

As said tactician, Robin could not understate how severely she would have opposed such a decision. Not that anyone could dissuade Chrom, once he got an idea in his head...

“Ah well. I’d better get my good thread for you, eh? I’ve got your measurements. Take a look around the store and pick out what you like and I’ll make it. It’ll just take a couple of days.”

Robin thanked Liesel profusely but the woman just waved her off and out of the small room, back into the wider shop. Tharja was nowhere to be seen and before Robin could so much as open her mouth, Liesel had gone through a curtain and away into the back of her shop. No doubt looking for her good cotton and silk.

That had gone well. Good, considering Robin had barely panicked in response to being touched so much. Hopefully, these clothes would be tougher. The less time standing on a stool being poked and prodded —even by someone as kind as Liesel— the better.

Robin sighed and failed to notice the small shadow moving across the room, settling at her side before it was too late.

“Looking for anything in particular?” A jolt went up her spine as the figure of who Robin assumed to be Camille appeared at her side. A small waif of a girl with long, dark coloured brown hair.

“Ah! Ah— Oh. Um. I’m not really sure… No, thanks.” Robin answered unhelpfully, but Camille didn’t mind and smiled, raising a hand to her chest as she spoke once more.

“Alright, well give me a call if you need anything.”

Robin nodded dumbly and wondered to herself how old exactly the small woman… girl… teenager? Nevermind, how young or old she was. Didn’t matter, she supposed with a sigh and turned her attention to the side of the shop with pre-made clothing.

White shirts of linen, silk and all kinds of fabrics caught her eye. Long-sleeved, some had silver or brown buttons while others dipped in a v and closed with a cord. They were smart and plain. Robin did not hesitate and walked over. She placed her fingertips on the light fabric of one close to the centre. Cotton. It was like a pillow. Soft and comfortable.

It didn’t take long for Robin to pick what she wanted. A few pairs of trousers in brown and black. Shirts and vests of white cotton and linen with simple wooden buttons and cord ties. Light nightclothes and warm nightclothes Finally, one nice silky dress shirt. With cuffed sleeves and silver thread and buttons. With some garments to be made over the coming days. Some of which Robin knew the appearance of and some of which Liesel told her were a surprise.

It was all much less extravagant than Tharja. She was outside waiting for Robin after buying hers quickly. All black, silver, gold and purple she’d changed into a flattering black silks shirt with golden buttons and long black trousers that flowed with her movements. The colours, while suspiciously Plegian, were overwhelmed by what Tharja described as an ‘overwhelmingly, undeniable Ylissean make’. Sturdier but plainer than that of the gaudier, wealthier Plegian tailors.

Tharja was not alone outside. Sumia had returned early, the rug she sought indeed in her possession. A pretty and gentle pink woven carefully with love. Sumia was red-faced when Robin exited the shop, waving goodbye to Liesel. Poor Robin had barely a moment to say hello before Sumia had grabbed her arm and practically dragged her down the street, Tharja grinning as she followed the two close behind.

Robin found out why the rush was necessary when they were out of the half-damaged market and on the final few streets that lead to the castle.

“It’s a shame you weren’t out quicker, Robin. I had quite the show.” Tharja drawled from Sumia’s left, looking past the pegasus knight to gaze at Robin. Sumia shot her a look.

“It wasn’t funny!” She insisted with a face so flushed with red Robin worried her head was about to pop. That, or she was about to faint and hit the ground. Robin shifted the two brown burlap bags that carried her clothes to arm and pushed them up to her shoulder, keeping her hands free. Just in case.

“Oh, I’m not saying it was! So romantic of that young man— Childhood friend, yes? For him to propose to you like that, out of the blue! Tragic you had to turn him down, what with the fact you hadn’t talked in years and had both become different people. Funny what thinking someone’s dead does for your opinion of them,” Tharja laughed and shook her head. “Ah, men.”

Sumia raised a hand to cover her face as Robin fought back both a cringe and a laugh. Oh, now that… Robin was very happy she didn’t see that. She’s positive that dying would have been far less painful than that.

“We’d best not tell Chrom,” Robin responded half solemnly with a half-smile and Sumia looked at her like she’d been betrayed.

“Oh, you’re evil.” Sumia cursed her, but Robin just rolled her eyes.

Only a fool wouldn’t be able to see the way Chrom looked at her, since the fighting died down. Now Robin’s eyes had been opened by Cordelia, that night in the fort it was impossible not to see it. And everyone knew how Sumia felt for him...

“You’re the one who broke a man’s heart!” Robin retorted with mock horror and Sumia threw her arms into the air. A difficult feat with the rug she hefted between both hands. Robin was impressed by how far she managed to lift it above her head before her arms dropped again and she spoke.

“He’s engaged! To another friend of mine! How am I going to look her in the eye?”

“Quite easily, I imagine? He’s at fault here, not you.” Robin told Sumia plainly and Tharja was quick to agree with that same, sarcastic wit.

“Oh yes, she’ll look you in the eye just fine. Not sure you’ll be able to look in his, however. They’ll likely both be bruised tomorrow morning. Or whenever she finds out.” Sumia shot Tharja a look. Tharja smiled that same thin smile.

“He’s… yes, he’s a dead man.” Robin agreed. Sumia groaned at her friends and picked up her pace.

It was dark by the time the women returned. Robin’s coin purse was far lighter than before. Like her spirits. And even the weight of her bags, dragging down her shoulders, couldn’t dim that elated feeling in her chest.

Along with the clothes she’d darted quickly into a small shop and purchased a new journal and some pens and paper. Tharja and Sumia were well entertained reminiscing on their little incident… though they did question Robin’s priorities when she came out with her new things

Decorations could come later, Robin decided. She’d buy them once she’d developed an inkling of an idea of what style or mood she wanted to go with. Also, once she figured out what style actually was in decoration, or how a room could have a mood. Cause a mood. Influence mood? Sumia had said something of that sort…?

It took her all Robin’s energy to get the bags to her bedroom, but she’d made it. Bidding farewell to Sumia in the hallway and Tharja at her door, Robin expected those to be the last words she would utter tonight. But as she turned the corner she found a short figure standing outside her door. One with… bags? Lying at their feet.

“Um, hello?” Robin asked from down the short corridor. The figure jumped like a scared cat and Robin half expected them to scatter down the hall like one, hitting the walls in confusion. Instead they put a hand to their heart and sighed in relief as Robin approached, head tilted to the side.

“Ah! Aw, you gave me quite the fright Miss Robin.” Donnel breathed out the air he likely believed was his last breath and gave Robin a warm smile. She returned with one she hoped looked apologetic and lay down her bags.

“I’m sorry, Donnel. I didn’t mean to scare you. You don’t have to call me miss, you know.” Robin spoke to the boy softly. If he was upset he didn’t show it, flashing her a lopsided grin as he pushed some blonde-brown hair from his eyes. Robin hadn’t realized it, but she barely ever saw the boy without that pot on his head. He was in dire need of a haircut. Or a trim at the very least. To be fair, most 17-year-olds she’d met in this army were. Lissa being no exception.

“Sorry, my ma always told me to talk with respect ta’ important people,” Donnel spoke with that same bright grin. Robin opted to ignore being called ‘an important person’ before it gave her a stress-induced panic attack and instead inquired as to the bags at his feet.

“What’s this?” And why were you waiting with them outside my door, she wanted to add on but didn’t. Donnel looked down at the bags and his mouth made a little ‘o’ shape, like he’d forgotten them.

Up close Robin could see they were two simple beige bags. Big. Lumpy in some areas too, and in dire need of a clean. Donnel lifted one up with a little bit of trouble and, upon realizing Robin’s hands were already holding bags, dumped it unceremoniously on the ground.

“Oh! Sumia told me n’ I told Maribelle that you didn’t have nothing in your room, on her way out.” Donnel told her. Robin wasn’t sure how that was relevant. Or why Donnel would have been around Maribelle in the first place.

“What were you doing with Maribelle?” Robin asked him and she could have sworn she saw the tips of his ears turn a little pink. Donnel coughed and shrugged, staring at the stone wall to his left, which had apparently become incredibly fascinating to him. Robin fought back a small smile.

“She’s teachin’ me how to be a true gentleman!” He announced proudly, enunciating every syllable of gentleman with great precision. His face then fell a moment. “It ain’t easy…”

“I can imagine…” Robin murmured. Though she liked Maribelle quite a lot, the thought of having the woman as her teacher… A shudder ran down Robin’s spine.

“Anyway, I thought we could ask around n’ see if the other shepherds had anything to spare! Y’know, hand me downs n’ the sort. Well, Maribelle made pretty sure we got something from every person. Gave them a whole big lecture on charity.” Donnel told her and pointed down at the bags. Poor Robin froze on the spot, her eyes glued to the sacks.

“These… are for me?” Really, she shouldn’t have been surprised. She knows she shouldn’t be. How many times had the Shepherds reached out to her? Helped her? Given her food and home and safety? Her outing with Sumia was proof enough that she shouldn’t have been surprised.

Yet Robin was speechless. Frozen. Eyes a little watery as she looked at the sacks. They could have contained wheat. Dried flour. Sand. And she still would have treasured them.

Because they were given to her by her friends.

“Don’t you worry, I made sure she didn’t go too far. Anyway! Most people were happy to give somethin’ up. I’m sure you’ll find a use for something in here!” Donnel seemed oblivious to Robin's emotions, which was good. She registered his words and felt a flood of relief. Small items. Little things. Nothing anyone would miss, nothing too expensive. She didn’t want anyone to go without because of her. She’d had more than enough focus on her already.

“Thank you.” In a small voice with a small smile, she spoke.

There was a pause as Donnel hesitated, his arm raised, his fingers curling. As soon as it came it disappeared and he reached out and gently patted her shoulder.

Robin was surprised at how unsurprised and pleasant the human contact felt. She had no chance to think or speak further on it before Donnel had said a quick goodbye, darting down the hall to wherever he stayed.

Huh.

That was… nice.

It was a struggle getting all the bags into her room, but Robin managed it well. The bags with her bought items were folded and laid in the corner by the door, empty and ready for her to return to Sumia. She’d folded her clothes and put them into their respective drawers. She’d made an order and everything. Underclothes and socks in the top and then her shirts and her pants. The bottom lay empty, ready for whatever garment Liesel planned to adorn her with later.

The bags with her friend's gifts were placed safely under her desk. Opening them now would likely cause her to burst into tears, so intense was her day. The new people, things, concepts. Robin had met her limit today. She could pour over her gifts later when she was not drained of all feeling.

Satisfied with her organization, she turned to the last of her clothes she’d purchased, laid out on the bed.

Changing into nightclothes was a fascinating experience.

Like water, her nightdress slipped over her shoulders. Light and silky, it ran down to her knee and was far more comfortable to the ragged clothes she’d grown used to sleeping in. The soft lilac shone in the moonlight from her window. Robin was so used to the sight of the sky that closing the blinds left her with a feeling at unease. Instead, she let it pour in and played with her dress. Softly she stepped around the room, barefoot on the cold stone, twisting like a dancer. Intensely her eyes followed the light reflecting off the fabric with wonder. She came to a stop beside her bed and settled down. Running her fingertips over every inch the brightness touched.

It was so soft. Climbing into her bed only one thought goes through her mind over and over in a cycle. Her bedsheets, her pillow, her blanket. All soft and warm like a hug. Pulling and wrapping around her safely. Soft, safe and hers.

Through a crack in her eyelids, she looked at her room. Her place, her things. Her room. Flooded in lunar light. Round like the moon that had shrouded it, like a protective, sheer coat. Settling over the space, leaving it calm and at peace.

For the first time in her life, Robin was asleep within minutes. Free of nightmares she could not remember. Cold sweats or gentle sobbing woke did not wake her once. She did not even dream. Robin slept well into the morning, no burdens shocking her awake. No fighting. Just sleep.

Chapter Text

Robin hit the ground like a boulder. Heavy, awkwardly and with a thud. Like a rock, her body lay unmoving, back against the ground her eyes cast towards the cloudy sky. Her lungs burned as though she had been running for hours. Every breath she sucked desperately in wasn’t enough to fill them, nor soothe the fire in her chest. This wasn’t going to help, she had to get up.

Planting her hands into the cakey dirt below her and pushed up. The tip of a gleaming sword met her nose and halted her movements. It hovered there, pointed down at her fallen form. the man behind the blade grinned.

“Ow?!” Robin coughed in irritation at Chrom, who looked all too pleased with himself. He sheathed his sword and beamed. From the side of the training ground, Frederick shook his head and sighed.

“Come now, Robin. Chrom merely used a training blow.” As Frederick spoke, Robin could have sworn she’d seen the corners of his mouth turn up. Just for a second. But the knight was 5 meters away, and she couldn’t make such an accusation without proof.

“Okay, well, it hurt,” Robin grumbled and pulled herself up into a sitting position, rubbing her stomach as she did.

Luckily for her, the grounds were empty. It was getting close to midday and despite the weather being well overcast, Frederick and Chrom had coaxed her from her warm bedroom and dragged her out under the shadow of the grey clouds and greyer stone walls of the castle.

Their intent?

To train.

“I’m sorry, Robin. But you’re not going to get any stronger fighting trees or training dummies.” Chrom bent over her with that same grin and offered his hand. For a second, Robin was back in that field with the green grass and the sunny sky. She rolled her eyes and took his hand, allowing him to pull her up with the same ease he had all those days ago.

Quietly she brushed the dirt off of her brown pants. Liesel’s fit of course. It had been five days since she’d purchased her new clothes and many a member of castle staff and shepherd alike had commented on and even complimented her garments.

Not everyone, of course.

They hadn’t talked since … whatever that conversation in the forest was. Frederick hadn’t said much the next morning. Only nodded when he saw her rise. She suspected…. Well she was sure of it, actually. Sure that Frederick had been avoiding her. Always on different schedules for training. Busy talking to others the whole two weeks it took to return to Ylisse.

Robin did her best not look his way, turning to Chrom once she was sure she’d brushed the worst of the hard, dusty dirt off of her rear.

It wasn’t hostile anymore. It was just different.

Robin didn’t know what that different was like yet. If she had to hazard a guess, she was sure Frederick wasn’t either. Ugh, there was no point in thinking over this now. Chrom was staring at her and she knew he was waiting for her to speak first. No doubt to admit he’d outplayed her this time.

The hit he’d landed was clean. That, Robin could not deny. She’d been preparing a lightning bolt (small and ineffective, the goal was to hit- not harm) and had twisted around on her feet to catch him off guard. Only then had she found the space before her empty, and a figure jabbing the hilt of his blade towards her ribs. She crossed her arms with a frown and stared right at Chrom’s face, though her eyes focused on his brow over his eyes.

“What if I had miscast, and I hurt you?” Or set her book on fire with exertion. Or herself on fire with a surge. Or electrocuted Frederick. Oh, that would not have ended well.

Chrom rolled his eyes but they shone and his smile grew gentler. Robin didn’t notice, instead she turned on her heel, spinning 360 degrees with sudden urgency, looking for her tome. Had she dropped it when she’d fallen?

“I appreciate your concern, but I’ll be fine. If I couldn’t take a hit I wouldn’t be much of an Exalt” He laughed like he was still getting used to it. There had been no coronation, nor had he picked a bride, which was, for some reason, necessary. But Robin and the others didn’t see so much point in denying the inevitable. There was no one else in the running. Best get used to their leader, their head Shepherd, the Exalt, in the meantime.

Frederick raised his hand and caught her eye. He’d walked a little further into the square of dirt they called the training ground. In his hand, he held her tome.

She really hoped that it had been in the grass and not simply… in front of him. Gone unnoticed by her sharp eye because they had been focusing on… something else.

“Go get some water and we’ll start again.” Chrom landed a pat on her back and once again this week, Robin did not flinch. In fact, she was fairly certain that of all things, she enjoyed the physical contact.

To get a drink, she’d need to get her canteen. Which was with her sword. That was with her other things. All of which laid beside Frederick. Robin took a deep breath and walked over.

“You had no qualms about causing harm when I was the opponent in question,” Frederick said as she approached, her tome still in his hand. Robin rolled her eyes and reached for her canteen, taking a long swig. The awful burning feel in her lungs receded, replaced by fluttering in her chest as she wiped her mouth and found him staring at her. Though she had not taken another sip, Robin swallowed.

“Well, Chrom’s my friend.” Her answer was impulsive and barely thought through. That tended to be the case when she talked to Frederick. Robin could’ve sworn his mouth twitched at that. This time it wasn’t a smile.

“I see. And I'm not?” Politely. That was how he asked her. As if he were asking her to pass the salt at a table or open a door for him. Not asking her to define their relationship, as if she knew any more than him what to call… this.

Robin hadn’t meant to imply he wasn’t her friend. Even though he wasn’t her friend. Though surely he knew that was more on him than her? It’s not like she hung out with him like she did Sumia or Cordelia or Tharja or Lissa or… They just didn’t hang out. And Robin had a hard time seeing him as someone who enjoyed shopping or (god forbid) romance novel focused book clubs.

“I don’t know. You tell me.” Robin crossed her arms and raised both brows questioningly. Though her jaw clenched, the corners of her mouth twitched upwards. Like she was proud of turning the question back on him. Which she was.

Robin leaned on one foot more than the other, tilting one hip up. Her lips pulled fully into a smile. Her confidence… it wasn’t quite there yet. But it was coming, steadily, surely. Like a leaky tap slowly fills a plugged sink. Eventually and forever until the where it pours and spills itself over the edge.

Frederick didn’t speak. His brow was creased but he wasn’t frowning. His eyes were focused on her face, but he wasn’t scowling. There was no hostility on either end. No sign of any territorial, animalistic challenging.

An onlooker might have almost called it playful. Almost.

Without another word, Frederick handed Robin her tome and turned his gaze past her shoulder. She turned and saw Chrom. He looked between the two of him, making sure he had their attention before he spoke.

The pause was enough time to let Robin focus on the way his hand, resting relaxed at his side, was wringing at the wrist. Like he had an injury or a cramp that he was loosening up. Or he simply had the same nervous energy expending habit as she did. She blinked and nearly missed what he said completely.

“I’m sorry, I’ve been thinking and... I was wondering if we could cut this training session short?” He asked the two. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t have simply told them it was over. He was Robin’s training partner after all. Sure, she was eager to improve, but a break now? A chance to step away and recharge without her having to desperately search for an awkward out?

Robin shrugged with a placid smile, utterly nonplussed. It wasn’t like she’d be heartbroken to miss training.

Frederick, of course, frowned.

“But milord, we’ve barely started. It’s only been an hour and a half!” He told them both with a voice like an irritated teacher. Robin took a second to think about how exactly he would run a class of small children and had to hide a snort with a deftly placed cough.

Only an hour and a half? Chrom caught her expression and smiled, which she returned as she cleared her throat and returned her gaze to Frederick. She just missed the way Chrom’s fingers fiddled with the steel sword at his hip. His wrist twisting, his weight shifting from one foot to another.

"It's because… well. It's about my future decisions about the kingdom…"

Something in this sentence flipped a switch of recognition in Frederick's brain, for no sooner than Chrom had finished talking, Frederick had given him an affirmative nod, dropping the subject altogether.

Robin was —as ever, it felt— left in the dark and confused. Neither man made an effort to explain as Frederick swiftly went to gather the training supplies for storage. Chrom turned to Robin.

"Actually, this concerns you as well Robin— nothing bad!" He quickly added on before she could internally catastrophize, "I want to talk about your own plans. In the long term, I mean. And I also… need your advice. Your input, really. Is there a day we could meet? Casually. We need not organize some grand meeting. I just need an hour of your time."

Lucky for Chrom, Robin had recalled the entirety of her timetable before he'd finished his oddly nervous ramblings. Every plan she made for her days were done well ahead of time. Today was a day that started with a training session from Frederick. Something she never followed up with anything but a bath and a long rest. Tomorrow would be dedicated to scouring the library more intently than she planned to peruse it today. Another training day after that meant she could slot in an hour to meet him during her rest period without trouble.

"I believe so, we can meet the day after next."

Though she wasn't quite sure how helpful she could be. A casual meeting? About both their futures? What's more, he wanted her advice? There was little she felt she was qualified to advise on. Well, aside from—

"You're not planning another war are you?"

Her brows furrowed, but her head tilted and her words carried a sarcastic exhaustion she could only hope would be interpreted the way she intended. In other words, it was half a joke, and Chrom took it in half jest, shaking his head. Be that due to his understanding of her (something he was quicker to than the others) or an improvement in her social abilities, she did not know.

"Oh, Naga, no Robin. This is a far more… delicate situation. Look, I'll fill you in then, yes? A-and like I said, nothing bad!"

Chrom did not wait for her answer, quickly leaving the grounds with an awkward wave. In truth even had she cut in at the end, there was never any way she could say no to him when he was as stressed as this.

When she looked to Frederick— a man she felt she could hardly read on a good day, she was surprised to find his emotions more plainly on his face than usual. What's more they were quite similar to her own, staring after his ward with a mix of confusion and apprehension that she was far more used to being on the end of, rather than observing.

It was after a few seconds he remembered her presence and snapped to attention, offering her a clipped nod in her direction and flat farewell in the form of her name, before quickly following after Chrom. He had already disappeared through a doorway into the castle. Robin was left alone in the courtyard, flipping through the past 5 minutes through her head like a book.

A delicate situation…

Robin shut her eyes and took a deep breath. Chrom said not to worry. If she was going to go against that order, then she could do it later and wring her hands the day of their meeting. Not right now. No, she was tired. First things first she would bathe and change her clothes. Then she could visit the place that best soothed and focused her mind.

-

Robin’s confidence in walking the halls of the Ylissean palace came from her slow familiarity with its corridors and rooms. The feeling solidified in her chest a little more each time she followed another shepherd down a stairwell to be shown a different room or when she wandered alone, late at night (a hobby that was slowly becoming a common thing).

Robin's room was easy for her to find, of course. The centre of her universe, there was not a day that had gone by living in the castle that she did not wake up in it’s warm embrace. It’s drawers were now filled with her clothes, both bought and tailored. Spoils that she so eagerly swept out in the morning. She relished the feeling of slipping on clean, well made garments and did so again, having already bathed and picked out a casual blouse and trousers for the rest of her lazy day.

No longer was Robin's space as empty as it had been upon her arrival. After waking up and embarrassingly crying over the gifts which the shepherds had so kindly handed down to her, Robin had sorted through the two big bags. Each item found it’s way into her hands to be turned over, rolled out and loved by her slender fingers. A set of silverware from Maribelle. It's tarnish slight, in slivers like burning moonlight. Still, they all gleamed in the sun as she lifted each utensil up one by one. An old bed cloth courtesy of Sumia— white linen sheets with faded lavender and daisy prints dyed into the cover like the fading memory of a garden. These gifts were the only ones she had identified so far. Both women were not subtle, commenting on their excitement at Robin's display of the items when they each dropped by her room to talk.

The rest of her gifts Robin loved dearly, even without knowing who had given her what. Books both fact and fiction with worn edges that whispered echoes of consistent use. A baby blue woollen blanket with frayed edges to lay over her plush chair. A firm pair of old brown boots that slipped comfortably over her feet. A faded yellow pillow, pale from it's time in the sun that looked to be more for decoration than any comfort. She kept it neatly at the head of her bed. She could go on for hours about the way she loved each item, but she'd already done so most every day her gaze fell over them.

By mid-morning, after all her gifts were laid out, no person could have entered the room and called her dwelling plain. No one could deny that the space was lived in.

But was it hers?

Robin recalled this question over and over for a while. Long enough for her to go from locking her small bedroom door to pushing open the two ornate marvels that opened into the library, heaving the heavy wood of the doors with a soft sigh.

“Of course it’s mine, Maribelle. I live here.” Robin had responded, legs crossed on her bed as she stared with her head tilted at one of the many guests who had knocked upon her door. It had been decided that Robin would host the book club for this week as a way to celebrate her newly decorated space. They'd not discussed a single book yet, as many of the others had yet to arrive, and Maribelle had plenty to comment on

“That’s not what I meant.” The noblewoman huffed pointedly, stepping away from the window and crossing her arms.

“Oh come off it, Maribelle. She’s clearly happy!” Sully, who had opted to sit on the floor, her back against the wall, chided Maribelle.

Perhaps she missed the casualness of the tent they'd used for meetings up until now? Nevermind, Robin was beginning to worry just how many people she would be able to fit into here. Maribelle continued

"I'm just saying, one or two objects is all it would take! Specifically picked out by her, according to her tastes—"

Robin's tastes? In… room decor?

"She's already decorated her room how she likes it, I don't see any reason for her to need to change things now." Lissa, who had entered alongside Maribelle, was taking the unusual stance against her best friend. Maribelle did not falter, however.

"Well, it might be nice for her to have some items that…"

"Aren't picked from the leftovers of other people's refuse?"

All heads in the room whipped to the door. Or rather, the doorway that Tharja was leaning against, her brow raised as she assessed the groups reaction to her sharp, drawled words. Perhaps it was the bluntness of which Tharja had translated Maribelle’s concerns that irked her, for regardless of their agreement, the noblewoman bristled.

"Tharja? Who invited you?"

Robin doubted Maribelle meant to sound so rude. Rather, she hoped. The woman could be biting at the best of times and Robin didn’t want to suffer through an argument in her own room.

"I did," She cut in, and swallowed thickly as the room's attention now turned to her. Robin cleared her throat and spoke.

"I thought perhaps she could offer some diverse opinions on the literature we share. I imagine the books in Plegia must be different in some ways to the ones you've all brought here. As in, the ones from here, in Ylisse."

Tharja swept into the room like a dark fog as the women considered Robin’s words.

Tensions between her friends and Tharja had not gone completely unnoticed. Indeed, while many of them were happy to welcome the mage into their fold during the war, the context of Tharja’s identity as a Plegian, the bloody war that had only just ended and the pain undergone by both sides made for a heavy weight that compressed conversation between her and Robin’s others friends. A point of discomfort for them all, regardless of Tharja’s defecting from the ‘other side’, sourced in the very continued concept of ‘other sides’ in this post-war world and the gaps in understandings of one another wrought by the seemingly separate cultures.

It was, in regards to Robin’s bubbling concerns about her origin and her future, something she could not simply stand by and abide silently.

Tharja, in all her bluntness, seemed fine with being upfront where the Ylisseans liked to leave things unspoken. Her eyes drifted to the novel held loosely in Sumia’s hand, (it’s cover, specifically) her mouth had already pulled into a sardonic grin as she gave a nod at Robin’s hasty explanation.

"Oh, yes. We've far more to offer than the settings to your cheap little tawdry, inaccurate romance novels."

Sumia’s cheeks flushed as she looked away for a moment, placing the book face down on the floor in front of the pillow she’d been using as a seat.

Robin sucked in a breath through her teeth and was quite ready to call the whole thing off, when Tharja sat down on the bed beside her and draped herself across Robin, arm over the woman’s shoulder, her fingers deftly plucking the book from Robin’s hand with an pure sense of interest that couldn’t be feigned.

Tharja turned her head to the other women, her smile just a little softer.

"Shall we begin?"

-

The day after training was not a day to be replaying the scenes of her life that confused her. There were too many of those. She had work to do.

Robin cast the memory from her mind. She’d ruminated over that whole book club meeting too many times over the past few days. Now was the time for learning— for focus. She fished a small list from her pocket, eyes trailing over the smudged text.

"Ylissean History… Culture… Statistics… Records…" Robin read aloud from a slip of paper. A palace librarian had jotted down the list and numbers after Robin had first visited the building with her many questions. According to the woman, everything she wanted to know about Ylisse and its history, along with any specific people, would be in these sections.

The list made up two quarters of the nonfiction books held within the entire library.

Robin… she had a while to go until she could cross off the first category in this list. Far from deterring her, Robin felt invigorated. She slipped a general history book from the shelf and then paused.

Robin thought of the one place she hadn't requested the librarian to show her. She’d cast it off from her mind. The librarian herself hand waved it as they passed by and called it a rarely visited section, only updated once a year. Nothing to concern her, especially as it was only of interest to those who dealt with matters concerning the general population.

That, and those who took the census.

Robin chewed her lip and looked down at the list on her hand, then the cover of the history book. There was a pause in the air. Suddenly she took a deep breath and looked around her. Beginning a search for a comfortable, private space to read.

She… she would start small. Yes. Get some general context of the world around her. Before getting into things… too specific to think about right now.

-

It was hours later that she was interrupted. Near the end of her history book, with a few other thick tomes joining her. Ones that covered the extensive history of Ylisse. It was a series, and started with the country's pre-history leading into it's foundation. It's cultural practices, how they persisted or died out. It’s advancements and steps backwards. It's conflicts, the history of the Crest and how it intertwined with its rulers. How they rose to power. How they ruled. How they fell.

Introductory stuff. Passing details, necessary but glancing like a poorly placed blow. Nothing, so far had gut-punched her in a whorl of recognition. There was nothing familiar.

Robin slammed the book shut far too loudly for the setting, the clap carrying through the building like a scream. She was punished swiftly by the universe for her interruption of the library's peace as a familiar, stiff and proper voice called out from a few bookcases over.

“Hello?” Frederick called. And it was undeniably Frederick.

When she didn't answer, all tense and heart thumping in her chest, he hunted for her like a bloodhound and rounded the corner in a mere matter of seconds. His mouth twitching as he found her secluded, the book she’d slammed still held between her two hands, a thick barrier that kept them from looking clasped in prayer.

Here, in this warm and stuffy library, whatever sermons she perhaps might've known in another life stayed locked in the unreachable part of her mind. Blocked off from her dry mouth and tongue.

No matter. She was fairly sure whatever Gods, should they be up there, wouldn't give her any grace. They hadn't before, why start now?

“Robin.”

“Frederick.” They spoke curtly to each other. Awkwardly. Frederick cleared his throat and looked down at the mass of books piled on her desk, at her side and even at her feet. His brow furrowed.

"What are you doing here?”

She blinked and looked down at the books and then back up at him.

“Reading.” Obviously?

His lip twitched again. Too fast for her to discern whether it was moving upwards in amusement or down in disdain. Probably the latter. Though, things were changing. Weren't they?

“I gathered as much. What are you reading?”

She raised the book in her hands, twisting it so he could see the cover. As she did so she cracked it open, flipping a few pages until she was satisfied, slipping a finger between the pages to mark where she'd left off.

“History.” She said plainly, and he raised a brow.

“History?”

“I'm trying to… remember things. See if anything rings a bell.” At that, he balked, and it was almost an amusing thing to see. The way his face relaxed in shock and then twisted before relaxing again.

This time he spoke slowly.

“You think you’ll find something about yourself in a book detailing events from near hundreds of years ago?”

At that, she scowled and huffed, straightening her back.

“I think if I'm going to find myself continuing in service to the future king I should have a little context as to the basic geopolitical events I've already been made a key player in.” The look she gave him was withering. Watching his mouth open, she waited for his venomous reply. None came. It shut. And then opened it again. The words were gentle.

“... A sensible decision.”

Robin didn't answer him. Just set the book down and left it open. She expected him to make his exit. He was probably busy. He was always busy.

He wasn't in his armour. Now, that was an increasingly common, yet undeniably odd phenomenon she wasn't yet used to. Maybe she never would be. His sensible tie, white button up, nicely pressed trousers and shiny leather shoes. More than ever he looked like a butler, and not one of the most intimidating and admirable figures within the Ylissean army.

Robin spared a glance his way and found he’d not moved an inch. Those dark black eyes were scrutinizing her. He cleared his throat.

“Has anything… taken you as particularly… familiar?”

She blinked.

“Nothing.”

Frederick nodded and rubbed his chin, eyes tearing from her face to the book on the table. He was mulling over how exactly to phrase his next words.

“Do you think perhaps the issue might be that you are looking at… Ylissean History?”

Silence. Heavy. Absently, Robin bounced her leg under the table. Her heartbeat increased.

So… he knew? Well. Assumed the same as Robin had. And as Tharja had before then. It was Robin’s turn to clear her throat.

“The thought crossed my mind.”

Well, he certainly didn't look surprised. He didn't look pleased either. She'd worried he might be. Vindicated at last. All his suspicions validated in an instant. It would have been nice, in a messed up way. To be the one responsible for making him happy. But he didn't look happy. His thin lips were pursed and his hands, so usually clasped nearly behind his back, were strained fists. Flexing out before clenching in. He coughed gently and glanced to the side, avoiding eye contact.

“... I could fetch you some books on our, ah, neighbours if you think—”

“I don't want to read about Plegia.” She cut him off at the draw. It was too soon. Far too soon. She just wanted general context. Something to work off of.

“I understand.”

It wasn't even a proper laugh that came out of her. Just an incredulous huff of air and a bitter blink-and-you-miss-it smile.

“No.”

Frederick balked again and her heart caught in her chest.

“Excuse me?”

She swallowed thickly and spoke quickly.

“I'm sorry I just— I don't… I don't think anyone understands.” Robin’s voice grew fraught as she spoke. Hoarse and tired. Despite the lighter feeling her admission brought her, her body grew heavy with the weight of knowing she was utterly unsure of how to explain this to someone else. She’d barely processed it herself.

Frederick opened his mouth and for a moment Robin was sure he was about to lecture her. About to zero in and pick apart like he always did. But he shut his mouth. He nodded at her to go on.

“You know, Libra told me that amnesia usually doesn't work like this.” Robin spoke after a few seconds, licking her dry lips. She pushed her hair back with an airy laugh. Airy and hollow.

“People might experience it for a few hours. Days. And usually it’ll blank out a little period of time, make someone forget their name,” She shrugged and her voice went up an octave.

“It's been months,” She groaned and leaned back in her chair. “I can't— couldn't remember anything. Nothing. I still remember less than the bare minimum. No town or country, no people. No details about my clothing or possessions, no details about me.”

Frederick stood still as she spoke. Awkward, trapped. Frozen in place by social rules she barely understood and never really followed in the first place. His mouth was a diagonal slash of discomfort. Hands raised somewhat, in defense? Was he to attempt an act of comfort? She wasn't so sure she'd like that.

Robin placed her head in her hands and sighed. God, why did she always have to make things so uncomfortable. So weird.

Frederick, bless him, stayed quiet. Maybe he didn't know what to say. Maybe he did but thought better than to open his mouth when she was in one of her moods like this.

Robin scrubbed her face with her hands and retrieved a bookmark, placing it in her discarded book before setting it aside.

“Sorry. I'm sorry.”

“It's… alright. I understand your need to simply… talk about these things.”

He smiled. Barely. It was tight-lipped. His eyes darted around. Like he was looking for some otherworldly being to give him validation on this response. A thumbs up

Another long silence followed. Robin looked to the pile of books beside her. Admired their velvet covers. She extended a finger to run along the gold lettering of their spines. Hoping and praying that now this awkward heart to heart that they always seemed to drudge towards was over, Frederick and she could part ways and Robin could begin to parse the emotional fallout of their weird, not-so-hostile (anymore) clashes.

Footsteps did not clap gently away from her on old tile floors. She did not feel his cool brown gaze tear away from her face, her hands. There was no relief for the hairs on the back of her neck that stood on end every time she was not alone.

When Frederick did not take this obvious out in the conversation, she pushed herself to look busy. Papers, yes. Her notes. She picked up her pen. Then put it down when she realized she had no book open to note take from.

She cleared her throat and tapped her finger. Frederick kept staring. Her eyes drifted to the various colours of the tomes. Rich royal reds and dusty blue like a babies swaddle cloth. Her finger stopped abruptly along the spine of one of the books and her eyes snapped up to meet Frederick's. He’d been staring at her. She glanced down at the books and then back up at him.

"Do you have a favourite colour?”

“... I’m sorry?”

Again, Robin had caught him off guard. She was quite good at that. And she wasn't sure that was a good thing. She wrung her hands.

“Maribelle asked me what my favourite colour was. I’m decorating my room.”

He lifted a singular brow as she explained, before speaking slowly.

“And… you wish to decorate it in my favourite colour?”

Heat flushed up Robin’s neck, spreading to her face.

“No— No! That would be weird. I just… I don’t know. I’ve never thought about my favourite colour. I’ve never thought about my favourite anything, really. I think. Maybe I did before this— I probably did before this. But now…” She trailed off and that dreaded silence set in again. Seeping into her along with a feeling of deep set anxiety. How was she so bad at this?

“It would have to be… gold.” Frederick said the words heavily, slowly. Like he’d given her question deep consideration. By the look of his eyes, he had.

“Gold?” She asked gently, her voice lilting. How… odd.

“Is that a problem, Robin?” Frederick asked wearily and once again she became flustered.

“No— No! Not at all. I just thought—… no, you know that makes sense.” It did not, in fact, make sense to her. But she also barely knew him. So, that catching her off guard? That made sense.

“What’s yours, then?” He followed up, hands tucked behind his back. There was that that polite nature in his voice. It was one he used in general, not-with-her conversation. That cool politeness flowed easy into his words, his exasperation only barely evident. Like an aftertaste.

Robin thought for a moment, and then looked down at her clothes.

She’d left her robe in her room most days now. A simple white button up and brown trousers clad her skin. She frowned.

“Uh… I guess it’s probably purple. Right? I wear it a lot. I don’t think I would wear it if I didn’t like it.”

That seemed a logical conclusion, but it didn't seem to be one

“But that is the past. These things can change."

"I… I suppose you're right." Realization buffeted her words. She could decorate her room any colour, yes? And wear any colour. Any combination she liked. She could talk to Sumia. Or Liesel about that. Or… she could pick some things out on her own. By herself. Energy thrummed through her limbs at that thought.

"I do think, however, purple suits you." Frederick said casually, as if he were talking about the weather.

Robin's voice caught in her throat and she made a disgusting choking noise. Frederick— He had— He just said something nice about her. He had complimented her. How was she— ?'Oh. He was waiting for a response. This was the part where she said something nice, yes? Her fingers flexed restlessly and reflexively in her lap and she tried to keep the level of her voice steady as she responded in as cool and casual a tone as possible.

"Well, I think you'd be quite the vision in gold." It came out far too genuine and she was sure he would find the comment revoltingly familiar and far too friendly.

The cough-like laugh that burst out of him burst in her chest like cupid's arrow, straight through her heart

"Hah. I would never wear such a gaudy colour, Robin. Nor decorate my room with it." There was a small smile on his lips. She had made him smile! But, what did he mean by that? His words— They didn't make any sense.

"If it's not something you'd want to wear often, then why choose it as your favourite colour?" A crease appeared between her brow and her nose crumpled a little.

Frederick hesitated. He opened his mouth but his tongue stilled. His hand paused just as he was about to bring it around his front. She watched him glance downward suddenly, at his hand. Flexing his fingers with that same kind of longing slowness as she had some minutes before

"It… reminds me of…"

He did not say her name. He did not have to. Robin would not force him to. Not when he was still healing.

A bitter taste filled Robin’s mouth. A swirling nausea settled deep in her stomach as her mind drifted back to the desert.

She squeezed her hands together, eyes trained on the oak desk where her arms and wrists rested.

"I think painting my room a dark purple like this would be a bad idea." She tried a smile but dared not look up at him. For the first time in this conversation, he took the obvious exit that she gave him. Avoiding the sad exchange of words that would only hurt him further.

That would hurt her, in turn. But he didn't know that. And he would never need to.

"I would be inclined to agree, yes." Frederick said easily and Robin released a soft sigh of relief.

"It wouldn't make my room feel very… restful. Well. Unless I picked a violet—"

It was then, just when she felt things were slipping into what must be normal, he interrupted.

"Robin, I must tell you, people very rarely wish to converse so deeply about colours." There was something in his voice she could not place and it made her anxious once more. They were restrained words, stilted.

"Why not?"

She’d been doing well, had she not? They were having a back and forth. She was not dominating the discussion. She didn't think she was emoting strangely or responding incorrectly.

Frederick's face went blank for a moment, evidently caught off guard. It must have been obvious to him, what she was doing wrong.

Why was it never obvious to her?

"It's… small talk. Like the weather. You're not normally supposed to go into such detail. I personally don't mind, but considering you will likely be meeting important figures within Ylisse, along with nobles from other lands, choosing such a topic would be…" Frederick raised his hand and waved it in a small circle as he spoke, expecting her to finish his thought.

She wasn't a mind reader.

"It would be…?"

"Boring." He said simply, and the word crushed the conversation and her confidence like a weight dropped onto from ten flights high onto a glass floor.

"Right. Sorry." Sharply and quickly she answered him and looked back down to her hands. Frederick hovered.

"... Is that all you wanted to ask me?" He spoke hesitantly and for a moment Robin felt that familiar and sudden flare of annoyance before stomping it out with her foot. All internally of course.

"I only asked you because I wasn't sure what to say." She confessed and stared at her palms. Surely he would leave now?

No.

There was some shuffling and when she looked up, Frederick had taken a seat on one of the stools meant for seeking books from high up. He stared at her with a hesitant gaze and, again, that strange feeling she always got in her chest whenever he didn't stare at her with intensity or distaste flitted around her chest.

"Robin do you... converse this way with all of the shepherds?"

Robin let out an ugly snort of laughter that she immediately sought to silence, clapping both hands over her mouth before speaking so quickly he wouldn't have to address it. Ever. Forget about that, please forget about that....

"No. I can assure you my most friendships have been secured on stable, interest driven conversational foundations. In fact I've only ever found it to be a problem when talking with you."

"And why would that be?" He raised his brows. Robin fidgeted in her seat.

‘Because I think I'm in love with you.’ She didn't say.

"You wanted to kill me when we first met,” Bad start. Terrible start. “That or abandon me alone in a field with no memories—" Frederick’s jaw clenched. Worse, far worse, get to the point.

"But you don't do that now! You're nice now which I do appreciate. I also understand! Specifically, I understand the hostility at the start. It makes sense, Weird person appears in the enemy's clothes, claiming to have no memories? Incredibly suspicious. I promise, I get it. The problem isn’t that. It's that I am… new to this. Socialising and the likes. I'm relearning all of this, I think? Unless I was this way my entire life before I lost my memory. I hope not— that's beside the point, what I'm trying to say is I don't know how to talk to people who I used to have very… hostile interactions with."

Her hands were shaking now. They were clammy, too, but there was no way to covertly wipe them on her pants now. Not with the way Frederick was looking at her now. With plain intrigue and... something else? Something sharp.

"You've had no trouble talking to me during training." He said it indignantly, like he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't have and was defending himself. But he hadn't done anything wrong?

"Well, yes, that's training. I have to focus on what my hands and feet are doing. My magic, my swordplay and when to time a dodge. Whatever comes out of my mouth is… just instinct. When I'm talking to people and only talking to people… that's when I start to overthink."

Frederick looked to the ground in thought, a hand under his chin. Robin used this chance to rid her palms of as much sweat as possible, before they became cold and sticky and itchy, and the hateful sensation sent her into another anxiety attack.

"Robin, I do not think this is such a big issue as you may think."

She nearly snorted again but resigned to just staring at him with a sort of annoyed disbelief.

"It was enough of an issue that you felt the need to point out I was boring you."

Frederick, at this rather innocuously made statement, made a point of averting his gaze. His cheeks... flushed? Had she said something wrong again?

Or... had she caught him out?

"That was not my intent," He said after a moment, his hands moving to fold neatly on his lap. "I wanted to let you know that other people may be bored with such discussion. You are many things Robin, but boring is the furthest from the truth."

"... Oh." Robin murmured after a second. She didn't know what to say.

"Thank you." Seemed like the correct response. She looked again at her hands. At his hands, at his embarrassed face. Then to the clock at her table. Silent and unnoticed since before he had entered the library and begin this looping mess of interaction.

"Huh," She murmured thickly, staring at the movements of the minute and hour hand. She clicked her tongue.

"I… think this may be the longest we've ever talked without yelling at each other or storming off."

That got a smile from him. Not a half smile or a hidden smile. Not something tight lipped and fake. It was a satisfied smile, pointed at his lap, head still tilted down. And though maybe it was for him — perhaps some self-congratulations at this achievement she'd announced— she decided to let herself into the fantasy that maybe, just maybe, the smile was for her too.

"Maps." Frederick said as he stood up and Robin jumped up to her feet as well, banging her knees on the desk in the process.

"Sorry?" She asked while trying to covertly rub the aching points of impact in her skin. Frederick pretended not to notice and glanced up at the towering bookcases, then to the right, giving Robin a good look at the lovely, soft brown hair at the back of his head. Gods, she wanted to—

"You will want to become familiar with the land, yes? Descriptions are fine, but a map is far more visual. Far more likely to trigger any… any recognition. I hope, at least. One moment.” He interrupted her inappropriate thoughts and wandered off without another word.

One minute. Two minutes. Near three minutes passed and Robin began to wonder if he was really going to come back at all when he appeared suddenly, a thick and promising looking tone in his hands. He laid it on the table in front of her, almost reverently.

“I would recommend this book. It covers all the major roads and towns near— Near or on our borders, over the past 50 years."

Robin cautiously lifted it with her fingers, running one fingertip down the spine and the pages. His eyes still on her, she took a peak and found exactly what he said she would find. Maps. Well drawn at that, easy to parse and with plenty of information. A genuine smile cracked on her lips, before she pulled the expression back in and turned her eyes to meet his.

"And… if after all my study on… history. And maps, I wanted to find something covering people… or say… cultures? And where they may… cross over." Robin phrased the question as gently as possible. Frederick didn't tense. Didn't accuse her of being a spy. He simply looked over his shoulder, then looked back, brows furrowed in thought.

"Well... I suppose I'd suggest you look in the library section dedicated to culture and arts." His tone was measured and Robin nodded curtly.

"Alright. I'll take a look." She thought about thanking him for his discretion. His company as well. But she was a coward and all she did was sit down, this new tome in her hands and her toes wriggling in anticipation.

Frederick made a move to leave and then froze, turning his head back.

"And Robin," He asked and she nodded.

"Once you are satisfied with these lines of study— If you asked him, I'm sure Milord would allow you access to the census records."

Robin's tongue felt thick in her mouth.

"The… census records?" She repeated slowly and he nodded.

“Yes.”

They kept the stare, eyes fixed to one another. Robin's hands shook.

She broke first.

"Thank you, Frederick." She said, eyes darting down to the book like it was the most interesting thing in the world. And perhaps it was.

She heard Frederick clear his throat.

"Robin." He spoke her name in that lovely deep voice of his and made his exit. And as his footsteps echoed into nothingness in the distance Robin had to fight the image of him walking away from popping into her head.

There were other matters to attend to.

She looked down at the book in her hands, fingers tensing and untensing, toes clenching and unclenching. She opened it far too swiftly and recklessly for someone looking after an old book.

Not yet. She had general studies. Information and context about her world to gather. She didn't need to know yet. She didn't want to know yet.

Staring down at a map of the continent, her eyes drifted momentarily to where the borders of Plegia and Ylisse met. She swallowed and flipped the page.

One day, maybe. When she was ready to face that.

But not yet.

Chapter Text

Robin's meeting with Chrom was to take place in the early morning. Her schedule had been wiped clean and a messenger had arrived at her door at 6am, encouraging her to wash and dress. She would convene with Chrom in one of the many small sitting rooms built around the castle. Built by Exalts before him, in times of great peace and, as such, a time necessitating great diplomacy. At least, that was what a book on the castles architecture she'd finished late last night had said.

"That looks painful." Came a drawl from behind her.

On instinct, Robin tensed and swivelled. Unnecessarily so. She recognised the voice before she'd even turned a full 180 degrees.

"Ah," Robin met Tharjas gaze. She glanced behind her and caught sight of her face in the reflection of her mirror. Specifically, the purple welt on the upper left of her forehead, which

Robin, in her flurry to rise, had slipped as she lunged for the shoes at the side of her bed and bruised her head on the corner of her table.

"It's not so bad." She lied, but sat down on the bed anyway, familiar with what would follow as Tharja slunk in front of her, moving to stand between her legs, laying two cool fingers gently on the wound.

Murmurs of dark magic left the mages lips, and if she looked high enough, Robin could just catch the sight of luminous little purple and black sparks which fizzled an icy cold against her skin,

The bruise would have been a great excuse for the headache already mounting in her head. But Tharja would not abide her going through any pain. She'd learnt as much in this month in the castle, dropping by her friends room after particularly taxing training sessions or, if Robin ever forgot, waking in her room mysteriously healed of her aches, the slightest sensation of cool fingertips on her forehead cutting through otherwise blurred and incomprehensible

So too did the pain cease in her head. Whether Tharja's magic sensed the invisible ailment or Robin simply hadn't hid it well, she did not know. All that mattered was the clarity within her head, for which gratefulness flooded through her. It had been the kind of throbbing beneath her skulls surface that could only be caused by stress.

"Thank you." Robin mumbled, reveling in the freeing feeling of wellness. Without thinking she leaned forward to wrap her arms around the middle of the mage.

Robin had learned, from these days in the castle, that Tharja was the reliable sort. She'd also learned that there was no point hiding anything from the woman. Bumps or cuts from clumsiness, or exhaustion from rigorous training. Tharja knew. And Tharja would heal her. Recommend herbal teas. Pass along tonics. Robin had a theory her more restful nights were down to a sleeping hex, though she hadn't brought it up.

No questions asked. No judgement.

The dark mages hand rested gently on her head. Robin let out a soft sigh.

"Are you busy today?"

Robin turned her head to face the wall. It's grey mass came into focus slowly and she sighed again.

How different things were to the day they'd met.

"I have a meeting with Chrom. Something serious," Robin leaned back and Tharja crossed one arm over her chest, and began to chew on the thumbnail of the other, an unreadable expression on her face. She was thinking

Robin had caught sight of the rising sun out her window and rose to her feet. "I should be going to meet him now."

"Mm." Tharja hummed. The noise was distracted and without her usual, casual distaste for the soon to be king.

Robin cast her a glance as she moved to her desk and plucked her notebook from it's surface, stashing it in the pocket of her long brown trousers.

"Are you alright?" She tried to sound casual. Tharja didn't move, but her shoulder's tensed. Just for a moment, before dropping suddenly.

"... I would like to speak with you, after you are finished." She murmured.

Robin plucked her coat off of her chair and slid it over her shoulders. She'd hoped to have some time to herself after talking to Chrom, she usually needed time to recoup between social interactions. With Tharja, mercifully, social time often felt more like rest.

"Of course. Where would you like to meet?"

"The training grounds. Around ten."

Robin froze and cast the dark mage a frown.

Tharja wanted to meet her at the *training ground?

Tharja never trained.

Robin opened her mouth and then shut it again. Then opened it and finally spoke.

"Will we be training?"

Tharja shook her head.

"No. Watching. And talking." Oh, thank the gods. She'd had more than enough training with Frederick. Any more and she would risk leaving her body in a perpetually bruised, healing state.

"Alright," She said with heavy relief. "I look forward to it."

That was supposed to be the end of it. Robin was already running out of time, but as she reached for the handle of her door, Tharja spoke again.

"Do you?"

Robin stopped in her tracks. Her head whipped around, eyes wide.

"What?"

"Do you look forward to spending time with me?" Tharja asked her in a mumble, thumbnail still fixed in her mouth

Robin's nose scrunched incredulously. She hoped whatever expression on her face conveyed her utter bewilderment at Tharja's question, but she was never good at regulating how her emotions showed on her face.

"Of course I do." She said emphatically, a small spark of panic in her chest as the dark mage continued to stare at her, unmoved. Unsure.

Robin took her hand off the handle and took a step towards Tharja, allowing her mind to tumble out her honest thoughts.

"You are dear to me. You don't mind my bluntness. You enjoy my company even when I am awkward. You help me look after myself when I cannot. You make an effort to understand me. You are my friend."

Tharja looked away, pink tinging her cheeks. She refused to make eye contact with Robin, and spoke.

"The others.... The other girls. Maribelle. Miriel Lissa. Sully. Many more. They... are not as open with me as they are you. And when they are, it's because you're there." Her voice had lost that drawling, languid flair. It was curter and conveyed a hurt that squeezed Robin's heart in kind.

"Oh." She murmured in reply, unsure for a moment what to say, before allowing that same uninterrupted flow of words to spill from her tongue. The kind of rambling she could release without feat if judgement in the presence of very few people.

"Well, I can tell you that they're nice. And that you're interesting. And nice as well. And they know that, because I tell them what you do for me. I suppose they just don't know how to approach you." She admitted and watched for changes in Tharja's expression. The mage turned her head slowly, regarding Robin with a forward tilt of the head.

"Am I difficult to approach?" Her tone turned dark, her eyes narrowing. She was putting on airs. Airs that had once unnerved and perturbed Robin, on the battlefield where they'd first met.

Robin felt that way no longer. She wasn't sure when that had changed. She simply knew that it had. And because of that, she knew it could change for the others as well.

"Not to me. But then again, I've been told I'm difficult to approach. So we are simply very alike. I think that.... like myself, you can be unsettling. But I don't mind unsettling. More than that, I feel something connects us. You feel it too, yes? Like we were meant to meet and be friends."

"... Yes." It was a final statement, laced with a weight that settled comfortably in Robin's chest. An affirmation of her instincts and feelings. Something she was so, so rarely given.

"You should go meet your idiot prince."

Robin's nose scrunched up.

"He's not my prince. I'll see you at the training grounds."

-

Pain seeped into Robin's head once she'd reached the hall that lead to the room to which she'd been summonsed.

A stress headache. The kind that, try as they might, Tharja, Libra and even Lissa and Maribelle could not help Robin with.

Stress that was not eased as she was let into the room by a steadfast door guard who, unsettlingly, was not Frederick. He wasn't inside with his lord after.

The sitting room was one she hadn't been in yet. Far more toned down than the ones Maribelle would bring her to when they had tea together, it boasted soft green wallpaper and wide, plain windows, one with a modestly upholstered chaise lounge and a bookcase posted next to it. An unassuming table sat near the center, biased towards the windows, with an unadorned, pale yellow tea set and two cushioned wooden chairs.

Chrom was not sat there. Robin had caught him pacing by the wall in front of a large and beautifully understated painting of a pastoral landscape.

Chrom smoothed his hair and swallowed. He tried that smile he always used when he was trying to convince Lissa, Frederick and often Robin herself that everything was fine.

Unfortunately for him, for whatever reason, Chrom seemed to be the only person in the world that Robin could read like an open book.

"I'm glad you're here." He said tightly, and the tips of Robin's fingers twitched.

She stepped forward and the door was closed behind her. She spared a glance backwards just before it shut. Sure enough, she was right. No Frederick.

Odd.

She turned back and rolled her shoulders, trying a smile.

"What was I going to do? Not show up? We live in the same building."

"A very large building." He gestured to the seats at the table. His formality left a prickling feeling under her skin, but she obliged.

"How are you settling in?" He asked her, not meeting her eyes. She eased into the seat and watched his face, answering honestly.

"Well. Very well, in fact. Everyone's given me such lovely things for my room. And I've begun to think about how I'd like to decorate it in my own way," She said, her mind trailing momentarily back to her faded, jumbled bedroom.

Chrom nodded and something in his eyes told her that he wasn't quite listening.

"How are you?" Robin asked, knowing that this was the point in conversation she was supposed to ask. She also knew it was very unlikely he would answer honestly.

"I'm okay." He choked, so strained, that the effort saying the words had made him sound injured. Like it hurt to lie. He wasn't very good at it. Robin's face fell.

"Chrom, what's wrong? Is it... about the coronation?"

He avoided her gaze.

"In a way," He said in that strained voice. His eyes flickered down to the cup in front of her.

"How's the tea?" He deflected.

She frowned and took her eyes off of him, staring down at the dark brown liquid. Browner than she prefered. In fact, a darker brown than she had ever seen from a tea with milk.

She took a sip and made a face.

"I don't like it." Flat and honest, she put it down. She even went so far as to push it away, gently nudging the saucer to Chrom's side of the table.

Chrom laughed. Not properly, it was more like a gentle chuff. But it was an real sound of amusement, and Robin was glad to hear something truthful from him in this moment.

"I made it myself" He said as he took a sip of his own cup and grimaced.

"You've stewed it, I think." Maribelle had taught her what that meant, during one of the first tea parties Robin had attended. She remembered sitting there, as still as a stone statue and silent from her nerves.

She glanced back up at Chrom and found him smiling fondly.

"What?" She asked. His smile faltered, just a bit.

"Nothing. It's just— I've spent hours these past few weeks stuck around Ylisse's nobility and the council. Your bluntness is refreshing. It always is." He tried to keep his tone cheery, but Robin could see through the false, forced gleam.

"They don't sound like very good councillors." Truly, they did not. Anyone whose job it was to speak, debate and advise in the name of a country, had to do so for long lengths of time. For that, needed to have the qualities that draw a person to listen without growing tired or bored.

There was little to be gained for royalty nor the common masses from an advisor so dry, so unconvincing and lacking of passion, no one wanted hear them speak.

"They've certainly given me much to think about." He said, and glanced out the window. She followed his gaze. The sun had risen, now. The mornings blue glow was fading into familiar, glowing sunlight. Bouncing it's light from dew on the leaves of the flowers in the garden, refracting it into the windows.

Robin let Chrom gather his thoughts. And when he spoke, she was immediately uncomfortable.

"Robin, I'm going to have to get married soon." He didn't look away from the windows. For that, Robin was thankful. It meant he didn't see the way her expression dropped. Her mind and face alike, blanked.

"Ah." Robin managed to respond like she knew why he was bringing this up with her. Specifically, if it was as a friend, or in her role as a Shepherd. Which was as a war tactician. So probably not—

"You have to look to the noble families, yes?" She cut off her thoughts with a question that built on the little— very little— that she knew of the matter.

Yes, it had been discussed within the Shepherd's. Of course it had. And Robin had done her best to avoid the gossip, but that couldn't always be done when one was friends with the upcoming grooms' sister and a few women who not so secretly held fantasies that they could fill the role of bride.

Yes, Robin knew the pool of brides was small. But noble blood was not the only prerequisite. Lissa had informed her of his other option but it seemed... strange at the time.

She shifted in her seat, looking down at the badly made tea. Her stomach churned in apprehension.

To choose someone from among the Shepherds...

She took another sip of her bitter tea and looked back at up at Chrom. He was staring at her now.

He wore the same clothes he'd worn in the days during the war. He still, despite begging from family, friends and advisors, persisted with his purposeful, perplexing single missing sleeve. He still had that same plain, honest look on his face.

One that showed an unhidden distaste and... —dismay?— at her mention of Ylisse's upper classes.

"Yes, which is a... problem." He said slowly, like admitting his view could've gotten him a blade to the neck. Though, from what Maribelle had told her about some of them, perhaps that wasn't...

A sick discomfort settled in Robin's stomach. A feeling that spread the more disheartened he appeared.

Chrom was a kind man. The kindest Robin had ever known. That she had ever heard of. Above all, he was good. Sweet. Nice.

The nobles, on the other hand...

Maribelle was wonderful. A joy, if one could look past her sharp perceptiveness, almost scathing in it's delivery to others— and Robin could look past that. Easier than she ever thought possible.

And Ricken? Who could dislike him? Sweet and intelligent. He was the kind of young man anyone would want their child to grow up and be.

And Sully— Well, Sully didn't count, in Robin's eyes. No amount of noble blood could overwhelm the sheer determination of the knight to appear as nothing more than a good, normal, person. Robin wouldn't debase her by counting her in a group she had no wish to be a member of.

Finally, there were the royals themselves. Most 'noble' of them all. Chrom, Lissa, Emmeryn— They had all been raised under the rules of nobility. Each, though flawed, were the epitome of— Goodness. Everything good. They made Robin's heart swell with warmth. With love.

But she knew there was another side to the nobility here. In cutting words spoken behind hands, in hateful whispers as she walked through halls and existed, peacefully and unobtrusively, within the palace walls.

Robin had heard some shocking tales— callous and downright nasty— from Maribelle about the calibre of nobles looking to score an advantageous match.

It seemed he'd heard of— Naga, he'd likely seen— similar things to what she'd been told.

So if he wanted her advice— and surely he did, if he had brought this up— then there was only one choice, in Robin's eyes. One viable option, in the prioritization of Chrom's happiness. His comfort.

"Well, what of those within the Shepherds?" Swiftly, Robin changed the subject. And Chrom's sour expression at her simple mention of the noble class dropped. It was replaced by pure, pale sheepishness. Then, a scarlet so bright she feared the rush of blood to the head would leave him dizzy.

It was embarrassing to bring up. She could feel her own cheeks reddening at the prospect of setting him up with someone who... well, who was a part of their mutual friend group.

The Shepherds? Her Shepherds? She knew them. Rely on them not to hurt Chrom. Not to use him.

"Yes? No— I— I don't know. There are some women..." He trailed off and Robin cocked her head and frowned.

If he needed to find someone he was compatible with, someone capable, within his small circles, why narrow down his already his scarce choices like that?

"What about the men?"

Chrom choked on his tea. Had she said something wrong?

"I— The council want a queen." He said quickly and Robin tilted her head to the side.

"Why?"

He could not muster the words to answer her, and bypassed the question altogether.

"I don't think any of the men in the Shepherds are my type."

Robin frowned, more confused than anything. It made sense, she supposed. Marriage for progeny. Didn't make her any less disgusted.

Fine. With some annoyance, she decided to leave the subject to be discussed another time. With someone else, maybe.

"Okay then. So about the women?" She repeated and he flushed.

Hm?

"I don't know. Some of them I've known since I was a child. Some of them I've only met recently. I have to consider how well they'd lead. How well we would get along—"

"It's overwhelming."

Robin wasn't an expert at love. Far from it. Her current romantic misery aside, she knew nothing of it outside the torrid stories in the books Sumia lent her.

But when it came to mitigating conflict and building bonds among her friends. Forging steel-strong partnerships—

Yes, battle wasn't what she should have fallen back on in this instance. But she'd only ever been alive— memorably alive— in these past few months. It was all she knew.

A piece of paper with a list of names formed itself in her mind. Robin leaned back, folded her hands on her lap. Her violet eyes gleamed.

"Who are you the closest to?" She asked and he pulled at the collar of his shirt, eyes dodging her gaze.

"I... We're close in different ways. They're not comparable."

Alright, noted. Next question.

"What about compatibility?" This seemed to soothe him, though not for the right reasons.

"I feel I fight exceptionally well with all of them by my side." He said a little easier. Robin sighed.

"That's not— I mean, how often do you agree? How often do you disagree? If you're going to run a country then—"

"I don't feel very well." He cut her off.

To his credit he didn't sound very well either. All the flushing in his cheeks had drained away and left him pale. He stood up from the table and dragged a hand down his face.

Then, he stepped away. To a thin accent table, set against the wall behind them. One with an exquisite looking vase decorated with violet streaks and filled with vibrant flowers. Beside that, was a small stack of papers.

Papers that Robin had not seen. Chrom took his time scooping them up, shuffling them.

He turned and cleared his throat. The redness in his face had returned, but he wouldn't meet Robin's gaze.

Oh, she did not like this.

"A... suggestion was made. By a councillor. I wanted you to have a look at it for me."

Slowly, as if he were waiting for her to tell him no, she would not look at it, Chrom made his way back to the table. Hesitated. Then placed the papers down for her gently.

Without speaking Robin lifted them. Settled them in her hands. She glanced the lines once. Then frowned and read them again, properly. When she looked back up at him, Chrom was seated across from her. His face was red. He would not meet his eyes.

"This is absurd."

He let out a massive breath. One of relief. Robin almost baulked.

To suggest that now —so soon after the death of his eldest sister. After a bloody, violent war. After the near complete destabilization of Ylisse and it's many cities, villages and towns. After the slaughter and disenfranchisement of so many people.—

To suggest that Chrom take a week in one of the remote royal holiday properties and take with him any "prospects" for marriage—

Robin's stomach churned and her mind fired with a thousand better plans that didn't include reducing her friends to— to animals— livestock made to breed.

Her disgust was clear to Chrom. And shared, at that. All the tension had left his body and he nearly collapsed in relief, slumping back in his chair with a sigh.

"Oh, thank Naga. I thought I was the only one who found it strange."

"This is absurd. Who on earth— It's completely tasteless! Offensive and wrong! I can think of a hundred other ways for people to get to know one another that doesn't look like— this." She spat the final word like it was poison in her mouth.

Then, Robin paused. She raised her index finger and pressed it to her lips in thought.

"I'd rather you did," He laughed. "I know there has to be some planning behind this, but this is the councils leading one. I'm holding out hope for a solid counter proposal that isn't... whatever this is."

Robin chewed the inside of her cheek.

"Which councillors have suggested this plan?"

He gestured to the cover and Robin cringed at the recogniseable names. Old, old noblemen who had served Emmeryn and even Chrom's father before her. And perhaps they'd once advised him well. But they had, in her opinion, archaic ideas on marriage. At the very least, ideas of marriage that were incompatible with Chrom's.

Robin found an uncomfortable number of them that had signed on.

"And no one else has any better ideas?" She said, voice laced with doubt. Chrom shook his head.

"This is the way things have typically gone. Emmeryn managed to push them off for years. It helped that, since she was a child when she took the throne, there was enough pushback against organizing anything too soon. But now, with how she..." He swallowed and flexed his fingers, looking down for a moment as he gathered his words.

"With everything that happened, they want to ensure an heir is secured. That way if something happens to me, I have a spouse or child to take over. This was the compromise. Me volunteering, so they didn't try to push Lissa into taking a husband as well.

A chill went down Robin's spine. Lissa? How old was she, 15? 16? She wasn't ready for marriage. She hadn't even lived her life, yet. Neither had Chrom. Not freely enough, at the very least.

"Chrom..." Robin couldn't find the words to say and glanced down at her hands, clasped on her lap. She took a sip of the disgusting tea.

"So, does it have to be an idea like this? One that will set you up to meet with some... eligible woman." She grimaced, placing the teacup down in its saucer.

"Yes." He nodded, jaw set.

"Well..." She took a deep breath, glancing at the papers. Indignant anger swelled in her chest once more. "I could probably come up with counter proposal."

"A... A counter proposal?" Chrom's face had blanched, his fingers paused around the handle of his teacup. Half of him seemed unconvinced— not that she could, but that she would

"Chrom, I want you to marry someone you want to marry. Not someone a bunch of weird old men— who don't actually know you very well— think would be 'optimal wife'," Robin took a breath. "Do you remember the subject of the last meeting we had with the Shepherds, a week ago?"

Chrom nodded.

"Repairs and peacekeeping is required of the Shepherds. The villages on our border with Plegia are especially vulnerable at this current moment. The war destabilized them, disillusioned them." He merely repeated what others from the area had stated. That was a good thing. It meant he was listening, and right now, Ylisse needed a king who listened to it's people. As Emmeryn had before him.

"We need to send people out to assist anyway. Who better than to raise morale than their future Exalt?" Already, Robin could see in her mind the many refusals— from Frederick especially— to the idea of sending Chrom out of the capitol once again.

At the same time, she could already envision the benefits of a such a trip. Both political and personal. When she spoke again, her throat was noticeably less tight. Her stomach less thick with anxious nausea.

"While you were there, you could interact with the people, boost their confidence in you while helping rebuild infrastructure. Better, stronger infrastructure. All the while, you could gauge your teamwork and compatibility with the Shepherds— how you get along with them during a time of peace, not exhaustion and war."

To his credit— and bolstering Robin's previous thoughts— Chrom was listening to her. Whether it was because she had a good idea, or because it was a plan coming from a friendly face or simply because the councillors suggestion had been so repulsive, was anyone's guess.

Someone had to come up with an idea that wasn't foul and out-of-touch. And there was no one else here, who could, other than her.

"And, if some among our team of Shepherds we send out just so happened to be candidates for marriage, well, that's two birds with one stone." She took a sip of her gross tea as she finished and did her best not to let the grimace of disgust at the liquid impede what she felt was a solid ending.

Chrom was still red. The idea mortified him, clearly. It unnerved him as well. But it didn't leave him disgusted. It didn't leave him uncomfortable.

"I'm not sure about this." Laced with uncertainty, Chrom took a sip of his own tea and cringed. Robin reached out and patted his free hand.

"Of course you're not. I just proposed draft of the idea. Unpolished and rough, not the kind of thing I'd put into action. I'm going to write the scaffold down. You're going to make adjustments to it for your comfort. As will any of the women who come along." She said matter of factly, and Chrom coughed up into his teacup.

"You're going to let them know why we're doing this?" He spluttered.

"Chrom, I like you. I will not send my— our friends away with you unawares just to be picked from like chattel. You will all know what to expect. You can all prepare for the work to be done, and be given chances to talk. To get to know the other better. Work with one another. Pick each others brains." Chrom looked to the councillors papers, then to Robin. She watched him worry his lower lip with his teeth and then let out a repressed, sharp groan. She was surprised he didn't kick a leg of the table in his frustration.

"I... Won't deny it sound's a far more palatable scenario than..." He gave another glance of distaste to the papers, looking a little green.

Without grace or much ceremony, Robin stood defiantly and picked up the foul papers once more, turning on her heel. She walked decisively to the nearest rubbish bin, dumping the abysmal plans with as much disgust as the words in the parchment warranted. Which was a lot. She turned back to Chrom and smiled.

"You will know your bride on your own terms. And she will know you on hers. I will not sacrifice your comfort for the likes of faster results for the council. And I will not let some stuffy noble muscle in on your life."

Chrom chewed the inside of his cheek. Then, he breathed out and met her gaze.

"It's a final draft," He said to himself. Then let out a soft, aqcuising sigh. "I've trusted you to hold my life in your hands before. I see no reason not to trust it to you again."

Her mouth dry and her body heavy with anxiety, Robin hoped on hope that his faith in her was warranted..