Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

To put it bluntly, Robin wasn't doing so well.

As the newest shepherd in a group of people that she, ultimately, felt much weaker than, she felt out of place. For one thing, she wasn't anything close to the best fighter. In fact, she didn't consider herself a good fighter either. Chrom, the Lord of shepherds himself, had tried to lift her spirits, tried to help her with fighting and getting better with tactics. But even he did not know much about the ways of magic-her main choice of weaponry, as she'd awaken for the first time (that she could remember) with a spellbook in her hands-though he tried his best anyway. Robin felt it was foolish to even compare herself to Chrom, or Frederick-his very loyal knight-for that matter. Frederick, though cold and blunt with his words, was talented-even the blind could see so. Even Lissa, as tomboyish and reckless as she could be, was talented in her ways so long as she had a staff in her hands. Robin, well, wasn't exactly a genius with the way she welded her blade. Through trial and error (and several knicks to both her and Chrom's hands), she continued to try. But nowadays, the thought of attempting to match any one of those three's levels felt hopeless. Perhaps she was becoming more skilled, though she couldn't see it herself, and she didn't get very frequent praise on fighting well or even bettering in her skill. It often left an uncurable lump deep in her throat, one she felt was childish to have. The tactician-the title given to her not long after she'd met the shepherds-was grown. She needed not others' praise to get her through a battle. This is what she continued to tell herself, anyway, because she knew she'd needed to toughen up. That was one thing she aimed for with each passing day and hoped to get better at the most, if nothing else. A goal she kept to herself and one that stayed frequently in the front of her mind, at least now that this was her life.

She sighed quietly at this thought and held her face in her own palms, elbows resting on her knees. Robin, along with the three shepherds, each sat upon their own very uncomfortable log, a moderate fire in the middle of them all. The warm tones roared in front of her as she stared down at the flames-a bit of sweat accumulating on her face as it drew closer to the fire. Her eyes clouded with thoughts, her mind traveling far elsewhere. It was difficult for her to think all too much, being that she couldn't remember a single second before being lifted up by the Lord beside her. She hardly felt like a real person-finding the ambition to fight for those she hardly knew was difficult as it was, though she could put up one convincing act. In truth, she still deeply cared for the shepherds that'd saved her. Had they not, had they seen her lying on the ground and brushed it off and continued walking, where would she be? Deceased, most likely. They'd saved her life-it was impossible to not fight for them all the same, it felt like she was in debt to them all (though Chrom had cleared up multiple times at that point that, no, she didn't owe them anything). As she sat there, Chrom and Lissa had started a small conversation that Robin truthfully had no interest in participating in-she'd gotten almost no time to herself lately, and it was enjoyable for the time being to just stay in her own world-had she even listened enough to know what they were talking about in the first place. Instead, it felt like a wall was blocking two separate parties-Lissa and Chrom, in the midst of a surprisingly upbeat conversation that included a fair number of barks of laughter from both of them, and she and Frederick, who were silent as inanimate objects. Robin herself was still as one while Frederick jostled the firewood around with a longer twig, occasionally adding another small piece of wood to boost the flames. A deep and quiet voice pulled Robin out of her mind, almost giving her whiplash. It was hushed as not to interrupt the quite loud chatter happening mere feet away.

"You'll dip your hair in the flames doing that." Frederick mumbled, his tone still somehow clear and directed through his teeth, and his gaze not leaving the fire. Robin blinked harshly, processing the addressment, darting her eyes to said hair-which was indeed only inches away from being engulfed by the dancing flame. She said nothing-it probably wasn't necessary to, anyway-and quickly straightened her spine so she was no longer leaning forward. Her hands rested gently on her lap, intertwining them together as she swallowed, and continued to lose her mind in the bright mess of fire in front of her. The warning-though useful, sent a quick shiver down her spine. The knight clearly hadn't trusted her story one bit, his accusation of her being a Plegian spy still held heavy in the air between them every time she remembered his existence and distrust towards her. Each time he spoke of this distrust, it was never to her, rather seldom to Chrom, as if she was a child or animal who wouldn't understand. He was never hushed about this, either, in fact he did it directly in front of her a lot of the time-sometimes even while she and Chrom had been speaking. Though he was treating her more like a human, at least, every day they spent as a group. Robin pondered it for a bit, her fingers fidgeting in her lap. It likely wasn't due to his own opinions about her. If she really was going to be this group's tactician, he'd really have no choice but to trust her judgement about plans and landscapes, and such-at least sometimes. Perhaps for Frederick, that meant not letting her set herself ablaze on accident. It made sense, of course. She wanted not to be fearful of the man-or think of him as some monster incapable of positive emotion. She'd seen a brief glimpse of another side of the knight-a positive man who was only loyal to his lord, and serious about what he did. Drowning in her thoughts as she was, Robin swallowed again and glanced up at him, seeming focused entirely on adjusting the roaring fire and cooking the scarce meat they had over it. Her eyes had unintentionally glued themselves to his face, and she'd now been rudely staring for Gods know how long, so she quickly drew her gaze back to the firepit as not to make him uncomfortable-or worse, more suspicious of her than he already seemed to be.

A heavy sigh drew out of her lungs, louder than she might've wanted it to be. She almost felt eyes shooting themselves straight at her, but didn't dare to look up and see who's they were-anyone's eyes on her were equally nerve-wracking to think about. Instead, she attempted to calm herself and draw another breath in but was only harshly met with the thick campfire smoke entering her throat. Robin became an awkward and coughing mess for an uncomfortable amount of time-her face tinted beet-red, either from the smoke or embarrassment-and certainly drawing attention to herself now if she wasn't already. There goes the alone time to sink deep into her own thoughts.

Lissa and Chrom abruptly paused their conversation, the former stifling a chuckle that tugged a smile onto Chrom's face. "Are you okay?" He asked, a hand raised in the air between himself and Robin, though to either clap the smoke out of her or pat her comfortingly was anyone's guess. She nodded slowly, clearing her throat roughly as the coughing fit ceased, her face surely still flushed a deep red. She forced a little grin to take form on her face-not wanting to look so much like an outsider that she'd just be unsettling.

"Just a little-ahem-smoke. You know how outdoor fires can be." Robin said this with quick regret. Did they really know? They were almost royal in her eyes, if not noble to Ylisstol and the surrounding areas surely enough. Perhaps camping outside was not a casual or regular feat for the group. A grimace quickly took over the silly, small smile that was before on her face-she almost didn't want to hear a reply. Being a not-so-great fighter was already enough embarrassment for a lifetime, if being an amnesiac who was only trusted by few wasn't already. She pursed her lips, darting her eyes away from Chrom's kind but nervous smile, to just about anywhere else as not to make any more fool of herself in front of-may she mention again-the Lord of shepherds himself. She didn't find herself all too lucky with her eyes on the run as, of course, they landed on the large and hardy knight beside her. It did her no good to discover that he'd been staring right back, with a furrowed brow and a face that told all too little and all too much at the same time. Robin couldn't bear the altogether situation she was in and quickly came to her feet. "I'll, um, be on my way now. To sleep, I mean. Lots of walking today. For-for me at least. I'm sure you lot don't struggle too..." Her voice trailed off mid-sentence, with every neuron in her brain yelling for her to move away and save herself any more social suicide. She settled on a light chuckle followed by a quick raise of her palm before speed-walking to their tent.

Robin spent a bit of time to herself after the situation, loitering in the shower tent for perhaps longer than needed. Endless thoughts ran through her head-it truly wasn't that big of a deal-everyone coughs sometimes, so why was she so worked up? It didn't matter as much as she felt it did minutes before. There was a chance the three would forget it ever happened in days to come-that she was sure would be spent with them and hopefully would avoid anything so tensed in said days. At last, she felt the warm water to be enough and wrapped a towel around herself and stepped out of the bathing spot. There was a small mirror in her reach, just one you'd use to check your hair and such-it belonged to Lissa, who tended carefully to her hair and face when the group had time to rest before treading through fields-but Robin felt it acceptable to use it for merely a moment. Suds of soap lingered in Robin's drenched hair-an irritated sigh left her at this fact-but she was too exhausted anymore to go and wash them out again, instead just placing the mirror gingerly down where it came and wringing the soap out with her towel. As she was in the process of re-wrapping herself in the (now soap-covered) towel, a familiar and high voice arose from outside the tent.

"Robin? You're in here, right?" Lissa shouted, a little louder than appropriate for how close Robin was to that wall of the tent. Still, she swallowed nervously, and moved slightly closer to that wall, speaking back.

"I am," she muttered, quieter than she intended. She gently cleared her throat before she spoke again. "Sorry, what do you need? I'm dressing right now." Robin quickly moved to do what she'd stated, drying off entirely and slipping back into her previous outfit. She pushed the tent flap out of the way, stepping outside and slipping her coat on quickly to avoid the bitter chill outside, as Lissa quickly approached her with a container in her hands. Robin continued to try and wring more water from her hair as she observed the container that the cleric presented.

"Dinner, from earlier! It's a mix of yours and my portions-I, uh...didn't want any more. It's bear meat. Unbelievable, isn't it? Bear meat! It's almost inedible. But if you're hungry, eat as much as you'd like, okay?" Lissa held the container a mere inch higher, offering it to the tactician, who took it with a warm smile that felt almost foreign-she hadn't smiled in a bit, but the presence of the younger girl never failed to light up a room of people, and Robin was no exception, of course. She offered a slight nod of thanks before she glanced inside the box, personally thinking the savory meat looked quite appetizing.

"Thank you, Lissa. I, erh-" She stumbled over her words a bit, but felt more willing to ask a favor of Lissa rather than the other two members of their party-perhaps it was the lesser gap in age, or the fact that they simply had the same gender. Whatever it was made Robin speak all more easily. "Send Frederick my thanks. He spent a while roasting all this, I'd say." A smile subtly grew on her face, all the while her stomach sunk at the reminder of the man. His cold expression with the dark furrowed eyebrow that seemed to haunt her as she lifted herself from the situation; his direct tone when he suggested she keep her hair out of the fire, the words that meant nothing of care or trust, but a desire to keep her alive for the sake of his family and those he served. It wasn't for her sake. She internally shook her head, wanting the pummeling bundle of thoughts to disappear. Lissa hesitated but nodded before playfully delivering a curtsy. The two women shared a quiet chuckle before the younger turned and headed for her own tent. The smile on Robin's face so softly faded as her mind tried to return to the previous brainstorm. Her eyebrows furrowed together as she stared at the ground and waved her hand dismissively at herself. She quietly muttered curses under her breath before she paused, remembering the container she held with the meat that filled the air around her with a smell similar of that to roasted pork. A little grin returned to her face-it was going to feel great to eat something-anything, as she'd unwisely skipped breakfast.

The tactician was now alone again, sitting on a cot in a small tent she shared with none but herself and her books. She dug into the bear meat and ate in a quite un-ladylike manner, stuffing piece after piece into her mouth and wasting no time-you would've thought she'd never eaten in her life. The texture was odd, but it wasn't anything she couldn't handle. As she continued to eat, the sound of conversation was loud through the thin 'walls' of their tents, not loud or close enough for Robin to decipher the topic of conversation but could tell it was two males. She couldn't help but be a little nosey but sighed and decided to keep her place. The empty container hit the floor, and she shoved the partly cleaned cutlery back into her messy bag of things (that she intended to organize tonight, but the direction of conversation and such had worked her out, nearly like she'd been sword fighting for hours). Another heavy sigh escaped her-it felt like the weight of the world was pressing down on her spine for some reason, but she simply didn't want to dwell on it anymore-digging her face into the thin pillows at the top of her cot. Thoughts buzzed around Robin's head, spurting a pounding headache that she attempted to banish by holding her forehead with outstretched palms-to no avail, to her disappointment. A quiet groan of pain rumbled the cot she lay on, but trying her best to simply ignore it and sleep, she buried herself deeper into the pillow and squeezed her eyes tightly shut.

Chapter Text

The bite of the harsh wind blowing through a gap in the tent, ultimately, was what woke Robin up that early morning. As she slowly sat up, sticky-eyed, it took her a minute to notice it was earlier than she'd normally arise-maybe by a couple hours. Her exhausted brain had already set her off into the routine she held whenever they woke up in half-decent camps, changing from her nightshirt into a plain tunic with her recognizable coat over it. They always had to be ready to sprint off whenever the chance arose-though during this ungodly hour, it seemed not to be the case-the site they were in was silent, only the sound of Robin's own rustling through her things filling the air.

It was admittedly eerie-no sound of sticks snapping in a roaring fire, no footsteps (besides her few own), no speaking, and it almost sounded as if there was no heavy breathing that came with the peace of slumber-just for a second. After she stood silently for a moment, she heard very quiet snores emit from the neighboring tent-though the source she could only guess. A shiver ran down her spine after a few minutes-that of the cold or the disturbing silence she couldn't say-and Robin chewed her lip in thought before removing her well-worn bronze blade from its sheath.

Her cold hands-as still as she could keep them-ran gently over the sword's surface as she settled on a plan for that dark morning; she was to practice her skill with the sword, for at least an hour or so. Robin figured she could travel just far enough to quietly practice on something like a weak tree without being dangerously alone or interrupting the sleeping shepherds, and both the darkness and loneliness would make her feel all the less silly if she were to mess up. She figured it'd be easy enough to recognize her own mistakes and correct them, even surrounded by the misty fog of the morning. Quickly sliding the blade back into its protective leather case, she slipped on her boots and, as quietly as possible, undid the latch on the tent flap and stepped out into the bitter chill. If nothing else, she'd work up a sweat as well and be less miserable in this freezing weather.

She trotted over to the nearest tree in sight-it was already wilting away, due to the upcoming winter most likely-but it was in good enough distance from the camp that she felt okay practicing with it. Robin didn't bother with her hair this time around, the white locks free around her face, bouncing in sync with her steps as she quickly unsheathed her sword and took a stab at the tree's trunk. As fast as she could manage, she yanked the blade free from the tight spot she'd rammed it into and tried a sideways attack to the same spot. The execution was...not graceful-the force against the trunk had worked just so out of her favor and she fell backwards-but she thought nothing of it, sighing lightly. Robin knew it wasn't something to be mastered immediately, of course, and in battle all you can do is dust yourself off and keep attacking.

That she did-for at least half an hour-trying to hold the blade in different ways that Chrom had taught her briefly the days before, and approaching the tree carefully as well as fast to see which would work better. She'd worked up quite the sweat after some time and now wiped her forehead with her sleeve before standing a little hunched towards the tree, her blade sticking out of it again. Why hadn't she brought water, Gods damn it? Charging full force at targets could knock the wind after presumably anyone (at least after a while). Robin instead sighed heavily and rested her hands on her knees, ducking over and catching her breath. She could've stood there breathing like that of a rabid animal for a long time, but her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach when she heard the familiar sound of a throat clearing. Robin wasted no time whipping around, wishing she'd grabbed her sword before resting-until she saw the blank and almost angry face that stared down at her.

"What are you doing?" Frederick asked, his tone no less incriminating as it always was. Thankfully-for everyone's sake-he'd gotten the memo and spoke to her in a hushed voice, but that didn't make him sound any less threatening. His hands were joined in the usual spot behind his back, looking unnecessarily formal as always, as did the rest of him. He hadn't looked like he'd just woken up at all, he looked perfectly gathered which made Robin look almost underdressed-for nothing-and she absent-mindedly adjusted her coat and a bit of her hair once she'd gotten past the initial shock of the knight's sudden appearance. She too cleared her throat, as she hadn't spoken at all that morning and needed just a second more to think of what she could say without embarrassing herself-which made her internally facepalm, because, embarrass herself? She'd been found by the three like a lost puppy, so perhaps embarrassment should be the least of her worries by now.

"Practicing. I'm...sorry if I've woken you." Robin knew he'd not been asleep but still felt as though she must be proper in front of him. It created a strange dilemma in her mind-she needn't feel so anxious whilst speaking to the lord himself, who was ultimately more powerful and deserving of utmost respect than the knight who guarded him-but the sight of the man in full armor like he always was never failed to make her stomach churn. Maybe it was the fact that he hadn't trusted her from the start and still didn't-to her knowledge-which would be enough to set most people off, but she shook her head at that excuse as well. She wasn't 'most people.' She couldn't remember a day of her life prior to just a few weeks back-and now practiced fighting for the lives of those she barely understood, which most people weren't really doing in their day-to-day life. This only set her back to square one, however-still wondering why she was so very unsettled by even the presence of Frederick around her. Most knights couldn't be far off from this serious demeanor, right? He wasn't a mass murderer or anything of the likes-she had no real reason to fear the man. But she did, nonetheless. Snapping her out of her own head, Frederick spoke again, his brow raised slightly-something difficult to observe in the dark.

"You haven't. Why are you pummeling your blade into a tree? Milord would be willing to spar with you once he woke." Well, what was Robin to say to that? The only real reason was to-again-save herself from further embarrassment, and in no universe would she say that aloud-especially not to Frederick. She swallowed and took a cautious step back, turning around to remove the sword from the tree again. It was only a way to fill the silence as she thought, holding the sword loosely in one hand and the other hand outstretched at her side. After what could've been either mere seconds or minutes, she hesitantly lifted her head to meet his gaze-which was shooting daggers back at her.

"I awoke earlier than usual today, and thought I'd try to practice alone as not to wake anyone else." She swallowed again after speaking, tucking her blade into its case again. Robin nodded subtly at the knight-as a form of dismissal or an attempt at formality she couldn't tell herself-and brushed a lock of her hair from her face again. "I'll...return to the camp if you wish." Frederick only lowered his raised brow, still boring holes into her face with his thick stare. After too much uncomfortable silence, he shook his head slightly.

"You have the right idea to practice with your sword-wielding whenever possible. You could use the extra time to warm up." He paused then, almost abruptly. Whether or not to take offense to this sly comment she didn't know, but hardly had time to process what he said before he was speaking again. "Perhaps a tree isn't the best option, however. It won't do your sword any good. As I stated previously, Lord Chrom will help you with your skills when he has the chance to." The man's mouth stayed slightly agape for a second longer, as if he had more to say but seemed to bite his tongue instead, so to speak. Robin slowly nodded, pondering the words he said-it was unusual for him to speak more than a dismissive 'good morning' or an incriminating stare, so she wondered if she was to remember every word in case it wouldn't happen again. She wondered too if she should mention the fact that Chrom wasn't usually free to randomly spar with her, especially if he had to walk her through how to hold the damn blade and every feat onward, but instead held quiet.

"I'll...keep it in mind." Robin repeated her former head nod that, in this case, was more dismissive than anything. "Suppose I should get back to camp, probably." She made an attempt at a playful smile but didn't keep it on her face for very long.

"We pack and leave as soon as possible after milord wakes up," he informed. Robin only bobbed her head in acknowledgement and quickly walked past the knight to get to her tent as soon as she could. She nearly had to hold her head in place as she walked as not to glance behind her just once to see if he'd watch her return. It was stupid, she repeated to herself internally. There was no reason to pay any mind to what Frederick thought of her-she already knew. He did not trust her. There was no 'yet,' he just didn't hold truth to the story she was living, simply put. There was no reason to care. She shook her head as an attempt to clear her thoughts of the brick that weighed in them. She didn't care. She had no reason to care. This is what she repeated to herself, over and over, almost manically, as she sat quietly in her tent.

Robin sighed, a groan following afterward. The chill in the air felt refreshing to her lungs as she inhaled sharply and stared down at her boots, her face resting in an irritated expression. Her things needed to be packed, she remembered. It seemed like a better pastime as opposed to glaring at the floor for hours, so she began packing. Her movements seemed rash and aggressive, almost surprising herself, as she shoved the few tomes she weld into a satchel.

She hadn't had much to pack, to be fair, but just wanted it over with. The amount of clothing she had was, well, to a minimum. Though Lissa had insisted that she share clothing with Robin after seeing the diminished state of her wardrobe, to which the tactician denied politely, she felt inhuman wearing one outfit regularly, even if it was due to limited time and options during the Shepherds' journey. Perhaps her and Lissa could someday find time to go shopping, when the mood in the air was finally carefree, and they weren't stuck in small camps, and she had earned the trust of...

She shook her head once more, softly this time. He would not invade her already overturned mind again. There were things to do besides hold incredibly silent and awkward eye contact with him and then ponder on each movement of his eyes later to think about what it was he was really thinking, no, she had to help the people she was with. It was up to her to plan their next course of action, where they could safely travel, what they would do in battle. There was a lot on her plate and one foolish knight would not stand in her way. Her eyebrows furrowed as she thought to herself. Yes, that's what she'd settle on. A foolish knight. That was all he was to her.

Chapter Text

Stepping out of her tent at last, Robin felt the rising sun's rays beating on her face. Chilly as it was lately, she was glad to feel more sunlight in the air, even if just for a bit. As much as she fawned over the winter season-as it provided much more opportunity for battle tactics, and was just generally more enjoyable-the sun made her feel more human when it was shining over her. She imagined a previous life-where she was younger, and didn't have a care for the world, battle being unheard of, and bathing in the blinding sun. She wished it could be true, even for one minute, but even as much as she manifested this childhood memory, her mind still drew blank to the past.

She sighed and swallowed, her throat drying with the increased sun that consumed her as she stood outside in silence. After a minute or so, something had pulled her out of her own mind-a familiar and comforting voice she’d hoped to hear again before she likely went manic. Robin quickly turned to face her blue-topped friend, soft smiles appearing on both of their faces.

“Robin,” Chrom said easily, sticking up a hand in salutation. She didn’t hesitate to put up a greeting hand of her own.

She cleared her throat quietly before speaking, as not to experience a voice crack while speaking to royalty…oh, who was she trying to fool anymore? The tactician and Lord of Shepherds were friends-there was no reason to be any kind of proper. The word brought peace to her mind. Friends. “Good morning, Chrom.”

Chrom tilted his head very slightly in what was likely an appreciative gesture. “I heard someone was up at the crack of dawn to spar with trees.” He adjusted his head back to normal, his smile still stuck to his face as if glued on. “Have you an issue with local nature?” He teased. Robin shied away, her head turning to instead face the graying forest not too far from their spot. She returned an anxious hand to her hair, running through the ends on the edge of obsessively.

“Just trying to…” She cleared her throat once more. “I want to get better at sword-fighting. So I’m not standing around useless,” she kept her gaze locked on the forest for a second, but ultimately lifted her chin and looked back to the Shepherd. His expression was illegible-almost blank, but a smile still stuck around-though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Robin narrowed her eyes a bit at the melancholy across his features.

After a second too long of silence in the air, Chrom shook his head softly, the expression turning into something more of friendliness as he spoke. “Robin, don’t be silly. You’re the tactician-even if you are standing perfectly still on the battlefield, you aren’t being useless.” Her eyes softened at the reassurance. Almost in a flash, the two turned to a sudden noise from behind the packed equipment and blonde pigtails peeking out and shimmering in the bold sunlight. Their expressions softened almost instantly when they heard the higher-pitched and sunny voice.

Lissa quickly ran her hands down the front of her skirt, dusting herself off as she speed-walked over to the two who'd paused their conversation. "Not to admit my eavesdropping," she quickly exhaled, her cheeks puffing out slightly. "But I can't listen to you say things like that, Robin. I mean, you should have seen Chrom before he was any good-he flailed around like a monkey." Chrom elbowed her playfully, the action seeming foreign to an outsider like Robin-a 'king' elbowing a princess.

"Oh, I wasn't that bad, Lis." He joked, exhaling softly. Robin couldn't help but let out a chuckle of her own, biting the inside of her cheek to control her expression. Chrom adjusted his gaze to turn back to Robin-Lissa's cheerful mood still nearby, filling the air and lifting Robin's spirits just with her presence alone-and his lips parted slightly as if he meant to speak.

All at once, the sound of horses and one person walking side-by-side interrupted the newfound happiness the three had found in their off-topic conversation-for Robin, at the least. She locked her shoulders in their place, as an all too familiar chill ran down her spine, and a similarly strict voice broke her rapid thoughts. "We ought to make our leave at once, milord." Frederick held the lead of a fierce-looking horse in his clenched fist. "The other shepherds likely await us in Ylisstol." Robin kept her chin high, ignoring the illegible meaning for the churn in her stomach when he looked her way in the haunting and stern stare he never removed from his face, even in their most relaxing moments of the day.

The Shepherd lord nodded to his knight. "Yes, how could I forget?" His smile was contagious, and though it wasn't directed at her, Robin felt it spread across her face as well. It felt nice to smile-it was all but a small escape from the discomfort she felt under Frederick's sharp eyes, even if they weren't on her face at all. She nervously tilted her head to one side, cracking her neck.

"No time to waste, then," she murmured just loud enough to convey a blanket statement, with the group nodding at her in agreement.

And so, they left shortly after, Frederick and Lissa sharing one horse, Chrom and Robin sharing the other. Robin was on the back of their horse, her hands rested on Chrom's sides as the shepherds rode silently, the only sound in the air begin the horse's hooves on the cold dirt. She felt at ease, cool air whipping at her skin at the same time as harsh sun pouring through her hair. The plain fields with minimal amounts of grass looked peaceful, and she watched them with softly narrowed eyes, the wind not failing to twirl itself around the dead blades of grass as well.
Thankfully the wind hadn't picked up more than it was already, as she didn't enjoy the scenario of wind knocking her off her feet-or rather, horse. As if they needed more of her to deal with. Robin shook her head subtly, to herself.

The four continued to go in silence, only listening to gentle wind rustling the tree leaves and the natural sounds the horses made-loud breaths through their snouts and loud clomps on the hard earth. Robin looked over to Lissa-the most likely to speak up in the uncomfortable silence that currently wrapped around each of them-but she'd seemingly fallen asleep. Reasonable, she supposed, as it was still frighteningly early for some-herself included. She fought her own urge to fall asleep on the somewhat lulling horseback ride, only refraining as not to, well, drool on the Shepherd lord, or his horse, for that matter. And she didn't know how fond she was of the idea that someone else would likely take notice of her slumber, and... well, Robin hadn't thought that far about his intentions. Though it would be nice to know them. She scowled and held onto the man in front of her just a little tighter. There'd never been a more confusing man-was every knight truly like this?

Her eyebrows furrowed deeper, and she looked outright manic if you didn't know what ran through her mind then. But truth be told, she resented him in a way. She hadn't done anything to harm him-she'd had no folk in her bloodline that'd affected him or his family-and they'd barely met at all. Frederick's own brainstorm had tainted his idea of her. How was that her fault?
Though after a minute she sighed heavily. Some people... didn't adjust to strangers immediately, Robin supposed. She wasn't the most trustworthy of possible strangers to run into anyway-remembering Chrom's name before her own and the general amnesia that clouded her brain would make anyone doubt her at first glance. The resentment she held seemed to fade with every passing reason she provided for the internal dilemma she held with herself.

Robin's eyes seemed to droop lower, but her hold on to the Shepherd didn't dare to loosen. She didn't allow herself to fall into slumber-they would meet another group of Shepherds that she was likely expected to treat with similar respect to that of Chrom himself... perhaps. She wanted to be fully there and grounded when she met them for the first time. As she shook herself from her thoughts, she realized a conversation had started that would possibly prove itself useful. Etiquette for greeting the fellow Shepherds, or more importantly, Lady Emmeryn herself. Robin swallowed, her throat still dry. The reminder that she'd be face-to-face with a woman of such regality worried her-how was she to act?

As she tuned her hearing into what the two men were speaking about, she realized the topic and perked up quickly, but kept her eyes unfocused and on the distant trees. Gods knew what they felt should be kept from her ears. Or, what Frederick decided to keep secret, at least.

"Yes, the Exalt," the murmur was too quiet, it must have come from Frederick, as she could only make out the few words. What about the Exalt...?

Chrom's voice was softer, but just as threatening when she heard it. "Damn them..." he mumbled. Robin kept her eyes glued to the field. Her eyes still hung, no longer in an exhausted way, instead filled with more sorrow. She ought to chime in by now, ask what's going on, but she kept silent and continued to observe the barren grassland. Perhaps she wasn't invited to this conversation for a reason. The men made no attempt to include her, anyway.

Not many minutes passed as their conversation continued, and Robin's eyes flickered open, keeping them wide open as she tried to decipher what she saw in the distance. Figures crept through the dead trees, piercing eyes stabbing into her soul. She swallowed, hard, and tapped Chrom on the shoulder, leaning forward.

He glanced back, Frederick abruptly pausing as well, his eyes landing on Robin's face again. "In the forest," she swallowed again, her eyebrows ducked. Robin outstretched an arm to point to where she was referring to. "What is that?" She followed their eyes as the Shepherds followed to where her finger pointed, and another creature with the same terrifying blood-red eyes walked in a pair with the other. They hadn't seemed to notice Robin and her group just yet, seeming to be just far enough to go undetected by the disturbing zombie-like figures. Chrom squinted as he stared at them, pulling the reigns of his horse and coming to an abrupt halt, Frederick repeating the motion as he, too, watched the forest with a suspicious eye.

With the knight's horse coming to a sudden stop, Lissa shook awake. Her head had already been tilting dangerously far, but she seemed okay-until now, for the bump of the stopped horse jerked her forward and to the side, as she collided to the ground with a loud yelp.

Robin's heart leaped into her throat at the sight of the princess's falter. Almost at once, she hopped down from her horse and offered Lissa a hand, lifting the younger girl up. She didn't break the eye contact they'd made as she pointed again to the woods, her expression harder. "Look," Robin mouthed to the blonde.

"Robin!" She jerked her own head upward as Chrom called out to her, and he quickly tipped his head toward where the woods were and where the red-eyed creatures charged for the Shepherds. She swallowed before pulling out her tome and gritting her teeth. Chrom hopped off his horse and allowed it to run towards home, and Robin might've felt relief for the safety of the horse, had she been in... another situation.

She clutched her Thunder tome tighter, ready to release it but hoping to get another word in before thrusting herself into battle. "Chrom? What are they? Their eyes..." she trailed off, a bead of sweat dripping from her forehead to her chin. Robin realized they had limited time, and accepted the lord's lack of a reply as logical for now.

Sinking nervous teeth down into her lip, she looked back just to assure herself that the two other Shepherds were with them-which they were. Robin leaned into Lissa's space, whispering. "Stay to the rear, okay?" Her voice heightened in volume as she directed her focus onto Frederick-swallowing quickly before she spoke. "Frederick, bludgeon the ones near the front first." He hesitantly nodded before tugging at the reigns of his horse and charging forward, a shimmering lance in his previously free hand.

Robin gawked out at the field, filled with the creatures that she wanted anything but to approach, let alone execute. Perhaps it’d be best to stick with the tome, she agreed with her original judgement, so she could keep her distance and witness less of the inhuman blood on her hands. She and Chrom had began to step closer to the figures, Robin’s heart beating faster with every step she took. Her free hand was shaking like a leaf at her side. She would not die today, not yet, not with so much to achieve still. She would make sure all four Shepherds made it out of this alive, and they’d figure out the scientific name of the death staring them in the face, with the jolting red eyes that Robin knew would haunt her. Moreso than the brutal gaze of their knight, which now seemed comforting in comparison.

She exhaled shakily. Now was not the time to drown in her thoughts again. Robin opened her tome slowly, approaching a nearby figure and casting at it quickly as she could. She yelped at her own power-the thunder knocking her back-but her foe hadn’t faltered yet. She wasted little time throwing out another cracking boom of thunder to it.

As she examined the weakening face of the creature… it looked similar to that of a common ruffian like ones they’d met previously. A zombie, perhaps? She hadn’t even known they existed, but the appearance of these purple-skinned monsters made other possibilities spark in her mind. After all, they definitely weren’t human. If the purple skin hadn’t told them enough, the ruby-toned sclera that glared back at her did.

Robin was forced out of her mind as the beast charged for her with a limp and a bone-chilling growl. She hadn’t enough time to dodge it completely, but a nick to her shoulder would suffice if that’s all she won from this battle-she would not go manic in her thoughts anymore, she promised herself. She gritted her teeth before quickly unsheathing the sword of her own and plunging it into the creature’s chest, panting as it let out a final roar. Quickly, she stood up and stared down at it as it… turned to dust. Dust?

She fought the urge to crouch again and run her fingers through the soft dust as it withered in the sky. There was no time, but she made sure to keep that memory fresh in her mind to bring it up later.

Another similar looking one came up and swung its sword almost immediately, like a robot. It didn’t seem to crave revenge, or desperation to avenge its' fallen brother… but there was no emotion at all. All it wanted was to kill. Robin swallowed, fighting the bile in her throat and gripping her sword tighter. She blinked back the pain she felt from her torn shoulder as she raised her blade, digging it into the soul of the zombie. It, too, faded into dust and disappeared before her in the hard wind before she could even process what she'd been looking at. Sighing, she blew the ash off her sword and sheathed it once more. The field had lowered in volume-the yelling from either side of the fight had stopped.

Robin glanced up to see Frederick slashing his lance through the torso of another withering creature. He was focused, but stayed eerily silent as he committed the act, ordering his horse to continue running afterward. She'd clomped her hooves right over the corpse, and Robin almost felt... guilty for the beast. Almost. She wouldn't form an opinion until she knew what they even were.

In the span of a second after her observations, adrenaline had worn off and the ache in her shoulder turned into a most painful burn-as if bees surrounded and stung it all at once. Robin keeled over, clutching said shoulder and hissing sharply through her teeth. Were there any zombies left to eliminate? Were they approaching her? Surely, she'd been an easy target, crouched on the ground like that. She fiercely shut her eyes as tight as she could, grasping at her shoulder tighter, as if it'd erase the pain.

Deep and slow breaths, she told herself. Her eyebrows furrowed and she again swallowed the ache in her throat, shoving it down to her stomach. Thinking about her stomach at all made her nauseous. Everything made her so-the flaming pain in her shoulder, the knot forming in her throat, the rolling boil in her stomach-she couldn't control it.

But she had to anyway. She allowed herself a few more seconds to let her stomach settle-just as to not make herself puke on the field-and then stood up, not letting herself wobble all too much. Robin's clammy hand stayed at her shoulder, and she exhaled heavily. Just a blow to the shoulder... wasn't it? She took a glance at the shoulder, peeling her hand off the wound, attempting to stay reasonably calm as the blood oozed out of her wound. It dripped down her coat and stuck to her hand like tree sap. Deep, slow breaths. The cut in her coat ripped further as she moved her arm to look at the gash-it wasn't too bad. Fleshy and incredibly bloody, making a sort of mess on the ground, yes, but it could be worse. Nothing a bandage couldn't fix; a bandage would patch this wound and make it forgettable.

Snapping out of her rushing thoughts, she tuned into the world around her. Yes, it was quiet now. The creatures had all succumbed and faded into dust. No one else seemed to be hurt, which made relief flow through her-or rather, it would, if she wasn't in extreme pain herself.

"Robin?" She shook her head and turned to the source of the voice-Lissa had placed a supporting hand on Robin's unharmed shoulder, her face plastered with concern. "Are you alright? Your shoulder looks... gnarly!" Robin tilted her head slightly, providing a weak smile.

"I'm just peachy, don't you worry." She waves a dismissive hand, though Lissa's worried look stayed the same.

"... Are you sure? You're... still bleeding... it's gross."

Robin pursed her lips. "Perhaps we ought to take a rag to the wound, yes," she said hesitantly. "But otherwise, I shall be okay, I presume."

Lissa tilted her head like a puppy. "It's... a deep gash! Come with me anyway." There was no room for Robin to deny it or make a different suggestion... the cleric looked like she meant her words. She sighed and nodded, allowing Lissa to take her hand and lead the way.

The two sat quietly next to where their equipment was left before the fight, and Lissa had worked her magic with her staves, stopping the blood that gushed out of Robin's wound. Once the cleric had finished, she wiped her forehead and smoothened the gauze she'd placed on the exposed flesh, moving Robin's torn sleeve down again so it was loose and comfortable. Amazingly, there'd only been a dark pink scar after all was said and done. Based on the size of the scar, she thought it'd take hours and several stitches to fix it, but clearly, she'd underestimated the princess' skill.

"Lissa, you are truly a miracle," Robin murmured, a smile on her face. Lissa blushed, smiling back and waving her hands.

"Ah, it was nothing! You were kneeling like you were going to be sick, Robin... what else could I do?" She shook her head, staring at the field. "I can't believe Chrom didn't do anything, that bonehead. And Frederick is no better! Some knight he is, sheesh. I mean, as soon as battle began, he scurried away and impaled those zombies like he'd had a craving for gruesome murder his whole life. What a knucklehead, he won't even bother to settle and have tea with me..." Lissa continued to ramble, Robin only nodding subtly as her mind fogged up.

'A craving for gruesome murder,' huh? She withheld a chuckle at the statement.

As if on cue, the knight himself entered their space. Robin pursed her lips again when he walked over, offering an awkward nod as a greeting. He seemed to... skip over her existence entirely. Frederick cleared his throat quietly. "Milady, if you are done healing wounds...?" He offered a hand outstretched to Lissa, to help her up. She took it at once, then reaching one out to Robin herself (since clearly Frederick wasn't going to). As the three were stood, the knight spoke again, running a hand through the mane of his horse who'd leaned her head closer into his touch. "We are still awaited in Ylisstol, though I'm sure our absence can be excused through explanation aplenty." His expression lifted, and it looked cheerful as the cleric who'd giggled at his comment.

A laugh felt freeing after the mess they'd been in, even if it wasn't hers.

"To Ylisstol," Robin muttered, mostly to herself, but Lissa quickly turned to her and smiled with the brightness of a star, nodding.

"Emm is going to love you, Robin!"