Frederick began his morning ritual the way he always had: awake an hour before dawn, a splash of cool water from the basin upon his face to rouse his senses, clothes first, armour second, one boiled egg and a strong cup of tea, receive the night guards' report, then it was off to the training grounds to prepare the Shepherds' fitness regimen. As far as looks were concerned, it was a normal day for the lieutenant. Looks, however, were deceiving.

"Your Grace, perhaps you might relocate to the eastern palace for the time being? The other kingdoms know nothing of it. You would be safer."

'You would be safer.' The words burned bitter in his memory. They were his assurance to her that things would be all right. That somehow, he could manage to whisk her away from the dangers that she faced and keep her safe… away from her people. What possessed him to think that would work? That was his mistake. The one that caused him an endless number sleepless nights, physically racked with the pain of his guilt. How could he have been so stupid?

Back to the present; now was no time to look back. A line of wooden posts had been planted in the grounds of the training yard like little soldiers awaiting their orders. With some elbow grease and a bit of creativity, these posts would make sturdy and effective training dummies. The practice weapons had been checked for wear and tear, repaired or replaced based on the knight's examination, and set out neatly in their designated places on the weapons rack. Frederick was hard at work preparing the dummies when he noticed a faint redness illuminating the otherwise black sky around him. There wasn't much time before his fitness hour was scheduled to begin.

"I should never have left. If it's discovered I'm away when this news comes to light... The people could panic. Riot. More Ylisseans could needlessly die."

His fears confirmed in five short words. 'I should never have left.' What might have happened had they remained behind? That traitorous Hierarch would have still been in their midst, but at least they would have remained together. Perhaps Ylisstol would not have been sacked. Perhaps…

Enough. This train of thought was a fool's errand. The lieutenant finished his preparations in time to see the first few attendants stretch themselves out before the gated entrance of the zone designated for training, sleep still in their eyes. A short grin tugged the corners of his mouth upwards as he made his way over to greet them. It would be best to get the soldiers present warmed up with some light aerobics before starting them on anything strenuous. By the time dawn rolled around, their number had doubled. A good turnout for the morning regimen.

The Shepherds would be marching southeast in two hours. Just enough time to prepare Chrom and Lissa's belongings for transport. Frederick's walk to Chrom's tent was interrupted by Sully, asking for a rematch after the morning's sparring session. A few wise words of advice and his word that he would meet her challenge soon sent her on her way. Her form had been improving day by day and her tenacity was nothing if not admirable. Given a few more weeks of progress, she would certainly be able to overcome him.

"I will keep the prince and princess safe, Your Grace. You have my word."

Frederick had stayed true to his word; a year and a half hence and they were both still alive. Unharmed. Untarnished by the cruel hand of war. But the knight could make no claim to keeping their safety single-handedly; Lon'qu had taken an arrow for Lissa a few months ago and Lucina was responsible for foiling nearly as many attempts on Chrom's life during one war as Frederick had in a lifetime of service. Exactly what significance did his word make? He should have joined her; Chrom and Lissa had the Shepherds. Did they even need him anymore?

This had to stop. By the time these thoughts had finished unwinding themselves in his mind, Frederick was already in the royal's tent. Chrom was attending a war council meeting with Robin and Say'ri, so the knight set about his work as usual. Uniforms and capes were neatly folded and packed away. Boots were shined and armour polished. Chrom's cot had to be folded up and the contents of the accommodation had to be bundled up and moved out before the tent could be dismantled. Lissa's tent was next.

"I know you will, Frederick. Thank you."

...

The march back to Ylisstol was a long one, but the spring had thawed Ylisse's winter snows and the countryside seemed to glow bright with new life. Nevermind January; this was truly when the new year began. On horseback, Frederick could ensure that the formation stayed up to his strict standards. '...Cordelia, check. Panne, check. Gregor, check. Ricken, check.' All accounted for twice and no signs of trouble. As ideal a situation as the lieutenant could have asked for.

The lieutenant hadn't slept in days, but he had managed keep his fatigue well-hidden so far. Would this guilt always serve as an ominous cloud constantly lingering over his head? Nodding off in the middle of a march was something he had never done before, but the warmth of the sun proved to be too much and his eyelids grew terribly heavy. And there she was. Standing atop her lonely perch with her hands clasped and eyes shut. And just as soon as she appeared, she fell.

"Frederick?" came a voice from out of the haze. "Are you okay?"

It took him a split second to snap out of it before the cold reality of what had just happened began stinging at his pride like the icy water against his face earlier that day. He had been caught with guard down and it was utterly humiliating.

"My apologies, milord," responded the flustered knight. "N-no need to worry! Merely… examining the road for debris... Yes, indeed!"

"Frederick, you're a terrible liar," Chrom said bluntly. "What's wrong?"

"I… I'm not quite sure, sire," he answered with a sigh. "But I assure you, that it shall not happen again!"

"Frederick…"

"Milord?"

"Take care of yourself. That's an order."

"Of course, sire."

Frederick surveyed the land, noticing tiny settlements dotting the horizon. This was the land that she cared so much for and those were the people she loved so well. He had sworn to help her protect them, but how could he? He couldn't even protect her. Could she possibly have survived? Perhaps she was taken in by some kind locals before Gangrel had a chance to defile her body. Perhaps the gods were kind. But what IF she had survived? What condition would she be in? How much suffering would she have to endure? How could fate be so unforgiving to one so kind? There were no gods; only men and the cruelty they could inflict upon one another. No, that wasn't what she would have him believe. The world was also capable of producing extraordinary exceptions. After all, people like Emmeryn and her siblings existed. It was a start.

When they reached the Shepherds' Garrison in Ylisstol, Frederick's first priority was to make accommodations for the newer recruits. Though holding cells became makeshift bedrooms, none complained about having an actual bed to sleep on. Over the course of one evening, the small barracks became something of a living, breathing organism; each Shepherd cooking, cleaning, eating, and providing entertainment for one another as a cohesive unit. When the war ended, this garrison would have to be expanded. Though the capitol was always safe, chances could not be taken and Frederick had sentries posted to keep guard.

Frederick must have been tossing and turning in his bed for hours, desperately trying to catch up on his sleep cycle. He had exhausted nearly every method of getting to sleep he could think to employ. Counting imaginary sheep, staring at the ceiling and making out shapes in the grains of the wooden beams overhead... he even read a dictionary from cover to cover, which put more than a few smirks upon his face when he was able to decipher a particularly complicated word Miriel had used. Eventually, he tried praying. That didn't work either, though it never had. Perhaps a different approach?

"Lady Emmeryn…" he whispered into the darkness. "Milady, it has been some time since we last spoke. I just-"

He paused at the sound of a mouse scurrying across the floorboards.

"I-I just wanted to apologise. It was foolish of me to believe that we could have kept you safe anywhere away from your people. We had known each other for years, but I was too afraid for your safety to consider how you may have felt about the matter. J-just know that Lord Chrom and Lady Lissa are safe. As long as I draw breath, they will remain that way. Please forgive my failure. I shan't give you reason to doubt my abilities again."

No reaction. Had he expected one? Again, he stared up at the ceiling and lost himself in thought. No one was watching, but humiliation found him all the same. His eyelids began to grow heavy again, but he was too consumed by his contemplation to register that he was falling asleep. As he drew another breath, his ears popped and his vision began to fade. Sleep had taken him.

"Rest now, Frederick," came a gentle voice through the veil of darkness. "You've no need to apologise. You held true to your word as you always have. Chrom and Lissa are truly blessed. Sleep now and rise to the new day with peace of mind."

"Your Grace…"