A Promise

"Promise me, Robin, that you'll not do such a thing."
Robin considered the question briefly. He knew the subject would arise, but never thought the question would come at a time when he could be pressed for an answer. To Robin, the solution was clear and the plan was in motion: he would strike the Fell Dragon down, regardless of consequence to himself. What good, Robin justified to himself, would passing the problem along another few centuries do? No, the beast would meet its end now, no matter what. The current conflict was less clear, however: should Robin let what may be his final words to his comrade be a lie, so as to comfort him, or should he make the truth of his plans clear to his trusted friend and run the risk of some misguided benevolent subterfuge? At length, Robin concluded that he would not break his greatest friend's trust in his final moments and revealed his opinion: "I'm sorry, Chrom," his blue haired compatriot's eyes deadened, "but I won't make promises I can't keep. If it should come to sacrificing myself... I won't hesitate and lose my chance." The Shepherds' captain stared at his tactician staunchly, briefly brandishing the Brand which lie on his shoulder. "There must be another way..." he murmured, half to his tactician and half to himself. Robin sighed; Chrom had been forced to repeat this phrase like some accursed mantra throughout the course of their journey, but now it felt more like a platitude than an aspiration. Suddenly, the cobalt captain cried out, "Damn you, Robin! I have done all I can for you, as you are my greatest friend. I would wish nothing more than your eternal happiness, and yet you seem determined to throw your life away! Why do you betray me as such?!"
"Chrom, please!" the tactician belted back, "You stand as a brother to me, I do not betray you! I would keep you, your children, and their children and so on safe from harm, at the cost of but one life! Can you not see the pure sense and logic of it?!"
"To hell with logic and to hell with you!" Chrom roared back, "I've found a way to circumvent every foretold tragedy, and I'll be damned if I can't do as much here!" Chrom stormed off, his small cape flourishing in the wind and his hair whipped furiously by his about-face. Robin concluded that it would be unwise to share his plans with any of the other Shepherds, lest they have a similar reaction and tear the camp apart in their anger.

Chrom sauntered into the tent, his eyes heavy and glassed with moisture. His hands racked his shimmering hair as he pondered irritably. His wife, Sumia, drifted in on careful feet to seek the cause of her husband's sorrow. "It's Robin," Chrom strained, "He's willing to simply throw himself into..." Chrom hesitated, considering how to explain his frustration to his betrothed. "Gods," he blurted, "you'll forgive my blubbering. I fear he does not heed himself properly and will pay for it when the time comes," the captain resolved enigmatically.
"Why do you not discuss your concern with him, then?" the confused pegasus knight pleaded to her husband's shaken form.
"He refuses to see reason," Chrom replied, himself wondering whether that was his only justification.
"Perhaps I should speak with him?" Sumia guessed.
"No, that would be unwise. I think I'll speak with him again tomorrow to see if his mind has led him elsewhere," Chrom sighed, failing to convince himself again. He began to remove his armor and beckoned his wife to join him in bed.

Robin hung his favorite coat on a hanger, perched above a makeshift desk, whereupon there sat a clutter if maps and figurines, worn heavily by use in ceaseless planning and strategizing, though Robin never grew tired of his perfect microcosm. He sighed audibly, gazing at the trinkets, when a familiar voice cooed at him: "Hey, hey, hey, night-owl," a set of eyes glistened beneath a wealth of perfectly tied maroon hair.
"Anna," Robin recognized, slightly relieved, "what are you doing up so late?"
"What? A girl can't check up on her hubby every now and again? Make sure you aren't up to something?" she chuckled gleefully to herself, "anyways, I might ask you the same thing. What are you burning the midnight oil for?"
"Oh, you know me," Robin moved disarmingly, "just doing my strategy thing."
"Well, you're right in that regard: I know you. I know you're lying through your teeth."
Robin tensed, feeling the same pressure he had felt under Chrom's inquisition. Robin chose to avoid a repeat performance, "We're near the end, I know, and it's getting to me. The stress and pressure of it all," he provided.
His wife was not satisfied with the response, but she sensed her husband's discomfort, "I see... Well, know that I'm here for good and bad. You know you can confide in me, Robin," she hinted.
Robin ignored her: "Thank you."
Anna yawned, opening her mouth wide and closing it with a little squeak. Her husband had become aware of and endeared to her tendency to make that squeak, and thus laughed in spite of himself. "I should be getting to bed," his redheaded beauty admitted, putting a finger to her chin and smiling sweetly, as was her habit, though her eyes pleaded for her husband's further disclosure.
He denied her again, though his own passions insisted. He kissed his wife deeply before saying, "Good night, and thank you, Anna. I love you."
"Love you too, honey," she retreated from the tent, blushing in surprise and winking as she left.
Robin began to settle himself in, donning his sleepwear and rearranging his books to busy himself until fatigue set in. Presently, another glistening pair of eyes beneath a maroon visage peered into his tent, this time, however, they belonged to his daughter from the future, Morgan. "Father ?" she poked her head in concernedly.
"Morgan? My, but you're up late," her father replied in much the same dismissive tone as he'd showed her mother.
"Father, there are rumors that you had a confrontation with Chrom, and mother seems worried about you. Is something the matter?" her eyes sparkled in the tent's meager candlelight as she regarded her father.
"As I told your mother, I appreciate your concern, but it is unfounded. I'm just a bit stressed in preparation for our confrontation with the Fell Dragon," came Robin's reply.
"I suppose that makes sense..." Morgan resigned, "but I cannot shake the feeling that something is amiss..." Her father regarded her closely, remembering the Mark of Grima, her only inheritance, which adorned her shoulder, much like Chrom's brand. Though, for obvious reasons, she did not wear it with the same pride. "Might... Might I sleep in your tent tonight, father? I still fear for you..." she broke his trance.
A warm smile creased Robin's otherwise pained face. Though she was his daughter, he had never held her, or read her to sleep, or other such things which fathers do for their daughters. Now, he realized, might be his only opportunity.
"Of course, dear."

The day came. The Shepherds mounted up and formed upon Grima, the Fell Dragon. Upon mounting the beast's back, the conflict began in earnest. Chrom and Robin raced toward Grima's incarnation, a spitting image of Robin, as one. The remaining Shepherds, Anna and Morgan among them, fought to stem the Grimleal congregating on the creature. Upon approaching Grima, the Fell Dragon taunted and growled viciously at Robin. Chrom brought forth the Exalted Falchion and prepared to strike. Grima anticipated the attack, however, and moved to strike down his foe with a mighty tendril, but his counter was interrupted by Robin, who scorched the blade-like appendage with a great bolt of lightning that fizzled and popped upon impact. "YOU! HOW DARE YOU?! DO YOU NOT KNOW WHAT WILL BECOME OF YOU IF I AM VANQUISHED?" the Fell Dragon's incarnation railed.
"Actually, I know it all too well. I know that everything you are and will be can come to an end here."
The Fell Dragon itself gave a mighty roar, then its incarnation spoke, "SPARE ME YOUR HEROIC BRAVADO. I CANNOT BE DEFEATED. YOU AND YOUR WORTHLESS DREAMS WILL DIE AND BE LEFT IN THE DIRT AMONG YOUR FRIENDS' CARCASSES."
"It's my chance to redeem myself for what we've done," Robin reaffirmed, now calmly and with confidence, "you've lost, Grima."
"Robin, what are you doing?!" Chrom cried in vain, chasing after his friend, who loosed a colossal thunderbolt on the Fell Dragon's incarnation, which howled and buzzed with a mighty blast as it struck. The creature screamed in horror, the incarnation falling to its knees. Robin stopped and mirrored Grima's incarnation. Chrom continued running, finally reaching his comrade. Grasping Robin's shoulders, the collapsed form pleaded mistily, "Tell Anna... and Morgan... my final thoughts were with them." Having spoken, the tactician was consumed by a flame of amethyst and gold, as was his villainous counterpart. Chrom felt his eyes grow heavy, noting several wounds along his body, "ROBIN!" he cried as he collapsed onto the Fell Dragon's back.

A few amber flecks of sand whipped along the wind, intermingling in the shimmering indigo glare of the Shepherds' captain's hair as he suddenly roused himself. He stood groggily, his eyes drawn to the edges of the crater into which he and, as he now realized, all of the Shepherds had been dropped. Casting his gaze further, Chrom discovered the colossal bones of the creature they had defeated. He had defeated, Chrom's thoughts corrected, and then his mind returned to Robin. As the other Shepherds began to awaken and, naturally, coalesce around Chrom, he announced that there was no trace of the tactician. Cries of despair and sorrow rang out, though they were followed quickly by each of the Shepherds reassuring the others that their beloved friend would return. Two voices, however, remained relatively silent. Two pairs of eyes, glittering like diamonds, two heads of red hair, made bright as rubies by the morning sun, trudged toward the captain, sobbing and whimpering intermittently. Chrom slammed his eyes shut, unable to bear the weight of their stares. "I'm sorry..." was all he could muster.
"I-... I wish he could have stayed to see me grow stronger," a voice Chrom recognized as his wife's murmured. "To see all of us grow stronger. It is unbecoming of us, and unworthy of Robin's sacrifice, for us all to speak as though we are defeated. The day is ours, thanks to Robin; let us celebrate his sacrifice by moving forward."
"You're quite right, dear," Chrom said, composing himself to reassure the two redheads before him, "it's time we all returned to our lives, which have been granted back to us by Robin. I, as captain of the Shepherds and acting Exalt of Ylisse, declare this war ended, and all of your conscriptions hereto forth terminated," he announced loudly, before taking his wife in his arm, kissing her pale cheek and striding off, his voice all the while muddled by mixed pride, despair, and confusion.

Weeks, months passed. Anna returned to her shop alongside her new assistant, and while she remained friendly to customers and certainly did not lose her business acumen, those who visited Anna (or, at least, this particular Anna) felt she had lost the vim and vigor of her sisters. Her daughter noticed it, too, as she had been experiencing the same general loss of energy. The future was equal parts as bright and as bleak as it had ever been for the two. As she lay down one cool evening, the sky glittering in perfect contrast to the black-blue surrounding it, she pondered her husband as she had for many weeks since his death. "I was wrong," she sighed aloud, "I love you even more than money." She rolled onto her side, suddenly gripped by self-contempt, "Gods, I'd trade all the gold in the world for a chance to be with you again..."
"Mother?" a soft voice interjected.
"Oh, Morgan," Anna blushed slightly, realizing her child had caught her talking to herself, "what's the matter?"
"I'm concerned about you," Morgan retorted.
Anna laughed disarmingly, "Sorry I have you so worried, sweetie. Your mom's just fine. Still a little broke up about your dad, but..." her eyes clouded a bit at the thought, "Well, aren't we all?"
"You look tired, mother," Morgan pressed, "maybe you should take a day off or something."
"Don't be silly," she flashed a bright saleswoman's smile at her daughter, "I've got to keep the shop open. I've been doing this as long as I can remember, there'll be no closing up for extenuating circumstances now!"
"That's not helping, mother," her daughter's eyes drooped. Realizing she was getting nowhere, she begged, "Just don't work too hard, alright? I already lost father, I don't need..." she decided not to finish the thought.
Anna patted her daughter on the head and ran her fingers lightly through the silky red hair, mussing it up a bit, causing Morgan to briefly cast an annoyed glare at her mother. "Worrying never really solved anything, hun. You should get back to bed," she mused. Morgan looked at her mother exasperatedly then stepped outside. "Now if only I could heed my own advice," Anna settled uneasily into an armchair which sat next to her cot. It had been a gift from Robin and was still imbued with his scent. Though cumbersome to transport, she had never gone anywhere without it. Robin had once remarked that she looked like a princess upon a throne when she sat in it, whereupon she had beckoned him to take her place. As he sat, she commented that he, too, looked like a bold king awaiting his crown. "Yet, I cannot be a king without my queen," he had cooed, and she hopped into his lap as they shared a long, passionate kiss, his fingers coursing through her hair and pressing down the nape of her neck. She found herself feeling giddy at his touch, as Robin wasn't precisely a man of passion and, thereby, did not frequently give in to fits of excitement like this. They slept together that evening and she could not bring herself to let him go, arms resting on his broad shoulders and hands lightly rubbing his back. It was one of her favorite memories of their being together. Anna looked up wistfully as sleep began to consume her, her husband's name passing over her lips as she slipped down.

Chrom stared out the grand window of his bedroom. His eyes focused on a small tree in the yard, but his mind was occupied elsewhere. A delicate hand clutched his shoulder, but he was not startled, "Lovely weather, isn't it?" his wife remarked into his ear.
He continued to stare out the window, unfazed, "Yes, beautiful."
"I can tell your thoughts are still with Robin."
Chrom looked back into his wife's eyes, perhaps he was mistaken, but her tone seemed rather frustrated, "I can't seem to help it," he admitted. "I still feel as though there was more I could have done, more I SHOULD have done..."
"Such thoughts do not befit a sovereign," Sumia prodded at her husband. "One of your subordinates disobeyed orders and paid for it."
Chrom whipped around to face her, casting a vicious glare and grasping one of her shoulders, "'One of my subordinates?' He was my friend, dammit!"
"And mine as well!" Sumia's face flushed red, "I only wished to help you be done with your obsessive concern over him, that, gods forbid, you might pay attention to your wife, child, or, at the very least, your duties!"
Chrom stopped, removing his hand from her shoulder. He shuddered slightly, "You... you're right. Again. I have been irresponsible. Forgive me, Sumia," he stated, out of breath.
"Finally, you recognize it, at least-"
"I am not yet fit to hold the title of Exalt," Chrom started out of the room.
"What?!" his wife exclaimed after him.
"You must rule in my stead while I find closure for myself," he continued.
"Chrom, you can't just leave me..." her words fell in vain, as her husband had already departed.