A.N. References to classes work like this in my stories: A capitalized name (such as Assassin or Trickster) means that it is the character's current class status unless other grammar rules apply. A lowercase reference (such as thief or tactician) simply refers to the character's base classification.
Summary: Chrom doesn't understand the unsettling feelings he's having for his tactician.
Pairing: Chrom x F!Robin
CLASS CHANGE
"That's all for today. We will reconvene in two days before we move on. Until then, make sure you and your units get plenty of rest. We have a long march ahead of us. Dismissed."
The unit commanders rose from their seats and each took their leave with a formal bow to their captain. Chrom nodded cordially to each one in turn as he began to gather Robin's hand-drawn maps and tactical scenarios for the coming days. He chose to deliberately ignore Frederick and Cordelia's shameless loitering, which would no doubt lead to offered assistance in clearing the table, and kindly declined Sumia's invitation for tea and pie. Normally, he took every available opportunity to socialize with his troops, as such moments were few and far between, but today he preferred a little alone time to think.
He made his way swiftly through the army encampment, greeting a few people on the way, until he reached his private tent near the center of the area. He carefully stored the battle plans and maps in a small travel chest sitting in the corner of the room and flopped unceremoniously on to his make-shift bed. He folded his arms under his head and stared up at the ceiling.
In a few days, Chrom's small army would be breaking camp and moving on. It was a routine occurrence, but this time would mark a variance, as several key soldiers would be missing.
The Shepherds had been patrolling the country sides of Ylisse, warding off bandits and driving back pocket detachments of Plegian troops, and now they had reached a crossroads near the mountainous border of Regna Ferox. The main road followed relatively easy terrain across snow covered plains with only the occasional tree lined path to tread through. The other path essentially ran parallel to the first, but it climbed high into the western mountain range, winding its way through a dense pine forest before steadily falling to rejoin the main road on the other side.
Most of Chrom's division was ill equipped and unsuited to traverse the long highland route, mainly due to supply shortage, injuries, and general weariness, so it had been an easy decision to take the main road. However, there were several minute settlements hidden in the wild region that were rumored to be harassed by ruthless brigands and the undead Risen, and Khan Flavia had sent an emissary requesting that the Shepherds investigate the claims on her behalf. Even had she not done so, all of the Shepherds were loathe to pass anyone in need without rendering aid. In addition, there was also the very real threat of an ambush by Plegian troops lying in wait that might have been better prepared to hide in the brush. Ultimately, it was Robin's suggestion and Chrom's reluctant decision to allow her to lead a smaller, more agile team over the mountain path, dispatching enemies both dead and alive, and rejoin the main force later.
Chrom rolled over onto his side and sighed loudly. The plan was good, well thought out and multiple scenarios considered and prepared for, but that didn't mean he necessarily liked it. While dividing the troops and coordinating separate attack and travel formations was commonplace, it was usually done so with viable options for one unit to assist others if needed. His troops would be fine, but if anything dire should happen to Robin's crew, they would be completely on their own with little chance of rescue.
What's more, Robin's group was composed entirely of thief and mage class warriors (with one exception), as they possessed the best skill sets to travel swiftly and stealthily over the mountain pass. They considered sending a few of the Pegasus knights as well, but Robin quickly dismissed the suggestion, pointing out that enemies hiding in the wild were likely to be equipped with bows and tomes – dangerous adversaries to the fliers.
She eventually selected Panne, Gaius, Lon'qu, Miriel and Maribelle for her unit. Miriel and Maribelle had reached Sage class mastery, and Panne had already picked up a few skills from a few other classes and had returned to her wild taguel form. As added backup, Robin was bringing along every Einherjar card they had been entrusted with during their sabbaticals to the Outrealms.
Finally, she, Gaius, and Lon'qu had all used Second and Master Seals to progress their way through the thief line of warriors, and in doing so, acquired abilities like "Acrobat" and "Pass", which allowed them to quickly navigate through any terrain and maneuver past enemies with ease. The resulting combinations left the division fast and deadly accurate, yet mostly lacking the strategic muscle of powerful melee fighters and armored defenders. In spite of this, Robin was ready with available countermeasures to whatever they might face. All in all, they were prepared for almost anything.
Even so, Chrom couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. He'd been pondering the reason for a few days and eventually concluded that at the heart of it was Robin herself. She who was an ongoing enigma but a brilliant tactician and true friend, who fought with him one moment then turned and fought beside him the next. In a few short months, she had gone from being a complete stranger with no memory to his most trusted ally and dearest companion. She was the cause of this discomfort, for the execution and conclusion of the mission meant that he and Robin would be apart, and until they met again in about two weeks at the convergence of paths, he would be without her.
He briefly debated the matter with Frederick. Wary though he was, he also was a good listener, gave sound advice, and was a trustworthy confidante. Frederick had theorized that his nerves stemmed from an overreliance on Robin to make tactical decisions, that perhaps he had begun to lose confidence in his own leadership abilities. The presentation of this idea was followed by a rousing and somewhat embarrassing speech that praised his most admirable qualities. It would have been a great boost to Chrom's ego had Frederick not made several statements that a normal man would prefer to hear from a woman instead of another man. In any case, he appreciated the assessment but internally disagreed.
While it was true that Robin did nearly all of their strategic planning, the young lord always made every final decision, even overruling her advice on occasion. He felt quite strongly that it was not the primary reason for his discomfort.
What was it that had him so on-edge about this? Maybe he was going about this the wrong way. Normally whenever he needed to work something out, he discussed it with Robin. She was so easy to talk to, and had a great way of acting as a facilitator for one's thoughts as they verbally solved a mental puzzle.
His mind made up, Chrom pushed himself to his feet, grabbed Falchion, and headed out to find his tactician. Her presence hadn't been required at the meeting earlier, so the last he'd heard, she, Gaius, and Lon'qu had retreated to a safe zone outside but near the perimeter of the camp to spar. A little exercise might jog his own brain, so he'd challenge Robin while they talked things over.
The sun was just beginning to set as the prince made his way to the edge of camp. He intentionally walked with an air of purpose in his countenance to deter others from interrupting him for any reason. Frederick silently fell in step behind him and followed, but he chose not to rebuke his guardian at the moment. His ever faithful companion was apt at knowing when his presence was accepted but not his input, so he would not be a disturbance.
They briefly acknowledged the guards stationed at the border of the encampment and continued on. It wasn't long before the familiar clank of metal on metal could be heard in the distance. These were accompanied by frequent grunts and indistinct yelling as well as the occasional groan of pain.
As they drew nearer to the ruckus, Chrom noted with a knowing smile that not everyone had taken his orders to rest seriously. Sully and Cordelia, ever the overachievers, were competing in strengthening drills designed to burn excess calories while building muscle. Both women were wearing full armor, adding to the challenge, and dripping with sweat despite the chilly air. Both were also sporting identical expressions, faces set in firm determination. The only major difference was that Sully was considerably more vocal, grunting and panting in a very unladylike fashion in addition to throwing out the occasional taunt to Cordelia if she showed signs of weakening. They finally paused their workout when the latter noticed the approach of the men and tripped mid-sprint in her suicide runs.
"Ahh! Damn, Cordelia! You been pickin' up habits from Sumia?" Sully scolded when she almost stumbled over her training partner.
"Sorry!" The Dark Flier quickly righted herself and saluted her superiors. "G-Good afternoon, milord! Sir Frederick! What brings you out here?"
Sully smirked at her childhood friend and nodded to her former teacher. "Come to get your ass handed to you again, eh Chrom?"
The future exalt responded with a grin of his own and a deep chuckle, both at her overconfidence and Cordelia's appall at hearing her liege-lord addressed so crudely. "Normally, I'd be more than happy to put you in your place. Unfortunately, I have other matters to attend to. I was actually looking to speak with Robin. Have you seen her?" He glanced around to emphasize his point, noting that he could still hear the faint clash of sword strikes somewhere nearby.
"Robin? Oh yeah." Sully nodded at a line of trees behind her several yards away and pointed her thumb over her shoulder. "Saw her and the guys going at it in the woods over there. I'd watch it if I were you. Robin's still getting the hang of using a bow."
"Great, thanks."
"How 'bout you, Frederick? Care to go a few rounds?" She took a fight stance and held up her fists on guard in invitation.
Chrom passed the two women by, pretending he didn't notice the very slight blush on Sully's face when Frederick warmly accepted with a formal, "It would be an honor." He left the threesome to spar as he continued on towards the forest, following the growing sounds of battle as they drew closer.
He slowed his pace as he wove his way through the trees, ever vigilant of his surroundings. The noises were growing louder, but now that he had turned his undivided attention to them, he realized that the shouting was coming from two male voices. He recognized them as belonging to Gaius and Lon'qu, but no trace was heard of Robin's distinct cry. As the men came into view, he paused to observe their progress.
Life had not been entirely kind to Gaius in his youth, and so like many unfortunate urchins, he had turned to thievery early on to survive. Simple skills learned on the streets shaped him into a career class criminal. His base instincts translated easily and merely required the use of a Master Seal to further refine his techniques and teach him a few additional ones.
Lon'qu had not been much better off as a child, but his path led him to become a myrmidon – a warrior ruled by discipline and a sense of honor. A Second Seal was needed to transform his talents and wardrobe to those befitting a Thief. However, seals only filled one with the foundational knowledge needed for a class change; it did not always teach new skills immediately, nor did it make the knowledge instinctual. It was up to the individual to practice and train until it was – hence the sparring and occasional hunt for low level Risen to slay for experience.
The differences between Gaius and Lon'qu and their use of seals was indicative of the current situation the two found themselves in. Lon'qu was usually pretty good at taking and following orders without question. He was also entirely unmatched in swordsmanship, and walked away from most duels unscathed. This was not so at the moment. Gaius was continually shouting corrections at him, calling the other man out on mistakes that had him reverting to his usual fighting style, and taking advantage of any openings to get a hit in.
"Keep your body low, Blade! Stop dropping your arm; you leave your face wide open." Gaius emphasized his point by sucker-punching him in the jaw.
Lon'qu groaned as he stumbled back a few paces, and then charged back with an angry roar.
"Calm down and keep moving." The Trickster parried a thrust from Lon'qu's sword, then spun out of the reach of a second blow. The spin put Chrom in his view and he waved nonchalantly while at the same time blocking a third strike. "Hey-a, Blue! Come to enjoy the show?"
He shrugged in answer, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He hadn't been sure of either man when he'd first met them, but he'd grown fond of them after a fashion. He'd even stopped protesting Gaius's nickname for him, for despite his statement that he gave them to everyone, he really only rechristened those he truly liked and trusted.
This fact was lost on Lon'qu, who took offense every time Gaius referred to him as "Blade". "Will you shut up and fight fair for once? Or have you no pride at all?" he shouted, sword swipe missing his opponent by a large margin yet again.
The Ylissian outlaw rolled out of the Feroxian's range and resumed a fight stance. "Fair and pride have no place in this class, Blade. Turn your sword around, you're holding it wrong again." This statement garnered another bout of rage from the swordsman. "Speaking of fair, you might want to be careful, Blue. Rumor has it an Assassin lurks in these woods, and she's just mastered Lethality."
Chrom chuckled, knowing full well that he was in no real danger. "Thanks for the warning." He watched a few moments more, then circled around them to head a little deeper into the forest.
Since Robin hadn't been sparring with the guys, he knew she was off by herself, either perfecting her proficiency with a bow, or practicing her usual moves while trying to be as quick and silent as possible, trademark attributes of the assassin class. He frowned slightly, disliking the thought of her wandering alone, the same disquiet as before washing over him. Even though regular patrols were made to maintain the security of the encampment, it was a well known rule that no one was to venture forth alone during these dangerous times, no matter the reason. Though she was more than capable of fending for herself and was allowed a measure of flexibility as far as rules and regulations go, he made a mental note to reprimand her for her carelessness.
The future exalt stopped, silently debating on whether or not he should risk calling out to her. Before he could settle the dispute, his mind was made up for him, via a sharp object gently poking his back directly between the shoulder blades.
"Well, well... if it isn't Chrom, Prince of Ylisse – all alone and utterly at my mercy." The words sounded menacing in nature, but an amused lilt to the voice colored its accompanied tone as more teasing than threatening.
He smirked as he slowly raised his hands as if to surrender. Then, using his highly trained reflexes, he ducked briefly and turned to face his opponent, striking his shielded left arm in an upward motion to knock away an arrow's trajectory, while simultaneously drawing Falchion from its sheath with his right. He slashed his sword with nearly his full might, demolishing nearby tree branches and narrowly missing Robin, who in turn dropped her bow and back flipped out of his grasp. He paused a moment to allow her to steady herself, silently inviting her to duel.
She drew a Silver Sword that was showing signs of wear and stood waiting, her confident smile challenging him to make the first move. He took the opportunity to take a few steps back and study her stance.
Like Lon'qu, she had used a Second Seal to transition her from tactician to thief. Unlike him, she was a fast learner and had conquered it in no time, and so continued to further her skills as an Assassin, courtesy of a Master Seal. Chrom hadn't had the chance to view her newest techniques in action just yet, as the latest skirmishes he'd faced found him paired with his younger sister. And since her team would be leaving tomorrow morning, now was the best opportunity to see what she was capable of.
As a tactician, Robin had always stood facing her enemies head on, feet staggered in a strong lunge stance, which would allow her to either aggressively charge forward or hold her ground. She stood fast against oncoming forces, blocking or parrying blows with her own sword or a tome, and never giving way. A close look at her eyes revealed a trained observer, who could physically fight and react instinctively while mentally calculating not only her own moves, but those of everyone on the battlefield, friend and foe alike, with abnormal speed. Her favorite overcoat neatly concealed her body beneath its dark folds, and even obscured her face with its hood if she wished. Summed up, her body language, natural fighting style, and practical garments matched her sometimes mysterious but straight-forward, honest personality, all qualities which had never failed to earn respect from anyone she came into contact with.
That was the initial assessment he had developed of her when they had first met, and subsequent battles had not changed it. However, the passage of time and their growing friendship had opened his eyes to easily overlooked details that spoke of her deeper nature, painting a fuller picture of who she truly was at her core.
Whether in combat or during down time, Robin was constantly in motion; one rarely saw her at peace or idle for long. This pointed to a constant restlessness in body, mind, and soul that couldn't be sated, a curious longing for something beyond her reach. When in battle, she tended to become very tense – easily attributed to the nerves she felt in the everyday life or death situations they faced, coupled with the sobering knowledge that so many depended on her. The few who'd noticed this actually praised it as a source of personal encouragement, noting that if the seemingly unstoppable tactician felt fear, others could feel at peace with their own. And finally, Chrom had noted the way her shoulders would hunch, the tilt of her head, and the anxious way she bit her bottom lip as she pondered difficult scenarios. She did her utmost to show confidence to the soldiers she led when she made decisions, but confided in him that she often second-guessed herself after the fact, burdened with the question of what could have been done to achieve a more favorable result. He often provided comfort and affirmation whenever she doubted, and he was happy not only to do so, but secretly glad that he was among the few allowed this privilege.
However, now that the prince could take in Robin's new persona, nearly all of the typical adjectives he would ascribe to the woman dissipated like fog in the wind.
In a very real sense, seals could almost fully remake an individual: from how they fought in battle along with garments and weapons to how they thought and planned both on the field and off. It was no longer the androgynous strategist who stood at the ready, eyes blazing and sword hand twitching. She had been replaced by a demure and deadly vixen, beautiful and lethal in her seductive game. The seal saw fit to clothe her in a low cut, form hugging garb that offered little in the way of physical protection but perfect for enemy diversion and fast, flexible movements. The impulses endowed by this shameless throat cutter style of fighting had taught Robin to stand before him angled to the side at her full height, hands at the ready but shoulders down and back and chest high and out, simultaneously broadcasting an attitude of smug composure and displaying a scintillating glimpse of flesh meant as a distraction for male opponents. Her feet were planted a hip's width apart but her knees bent in rhythm, shifting her weight from side to side accompanied by a slight but mesmerizing sway of the hips.
Chrom unwillingly lowered both his weapon and his vigilance as his eyes unconsciously broke contact with hers, and strayed below the neckline. A buried memory came flooding back unbidden like a torrential downpour – one of an honest mistake that had shown him a very different, veryunclothed side of his friend. He became so caught up in his imagination that he nearly incurred a severe laceration when the hypnotic roll of her hips instantly ceased and the pale curves of Robin's chest were unexpectedly much closer, then temporarily obscured by the shining glint of sharpened silver bearing down on him.
He snapped out of his trance just in time for his battle hardened instincts to kick in. He raised Falchion to block the oncoming blow seconds before it connected, internally wincing at the shock of pressure sent up his arm thanks to his carelessness. He steeled himself for the second strike he assumed was coming, but when none came, he jumped on the offensive.
With a fierce war cry meant to intimidate his enemy (a ploy which rarely worked with Robin), he charged back, swinging his own sword in a strong downward stroke easily capable of cleaving an unarmed Risen in half.
She side-stepped the attack and retaliated with a backhanded swipe of her own blade. When he parried with considerable ease, she withdrew a few paces away and resumed her initial stance. Apparently she had already fully adopted the quick strike-and-retreat method typical of Assassins.
"Not bad. You've adjusted to my new style of fighting faster than I expected," Robin complemented with genuine admiration.
Chrom smirked with pride, but didn't lower his guard in the slightest, ever wary of the many tricks she could be hiding even in those short sleeves. "Why, thank you. And I hear you've already learned an instant-kill technique. I guess I'll have to keep my distance."
Robin clicked her tongue in disapproval and shook her head. "And just like that, you go and slip up. First of all, you wrongly assume that such a skill can only be employed in close proximity. Second, you failed to notice that I have re-armed myself for long range combat." With blazing speed, she sheathed her sword, jumped back a few more paces, and notched an arrow to a rapidly deteriorating steel bow, muttering under her breath.
He barely had time to process this statement when a greenish aura enveloped her body and she released four arrows in rapid succession. He recognized the technique as "Astra", a skill regularly employed by Swordsman class fighters. Based on her body language and past experience, he immediately calculated her likely target areas and reacted accordingly. He correctly swayed to the right to avoid the first arrow and ducked for the second. But he mistakenly thought the third strike would come centered as it was the body's natural compulsion to balance itself, and he appropriately stayed low. However, Robin foresaw this move and released the dart precisely poised in his path. He just barely raised his arm in time to knock it away with his shield, but the delay gave her just the right opening to hit him with the fourth and final attack.
The prince groaned softly as the last arrow grazed his right arm, cutting quite deeply, but not enough to deal damage a simple Heal spell or a Concoction couldn't fix.
Robin lowered her bow, a small smile on her face but a definite hint of concern coloring her dark eyes. "Your third mistake was thinking that I would employ a lethal technique while sparring with my lord and captain."
Chrom covered the wound with his hand to slow the bleeding and took a second to replay the last few moments in his mind. When he realized his oversight, he congratulated her clever ploy. "Well fought. I didn't even notice that you picked up the bow when you dodged my first attack. I also didn't know that you'd spent some time as a swordsman."
"I used a seal and snuck in some extra practice with Lon'qu and Gregor, during the week you were negotiating with your advisory board."
"I see." Chrom frowned slightly at the thought of her spending so much time with the other men in his army. He didn't know why it bothered him, only that it did. After all, she spent an equal amount of time with everyone, men and women. It was yet another attribute that made her so well liked. She got to know all of the recruits on an individual basis, and while she certainly must have her preferences, she did not show favoritism towards anyone in particular.
"Chrom? Are you alright?"
He returned his gaze to the tactician, taking extra care to maintain eye contact. "Hmm?"
Her gentle grin vanished as she observed his injury and body language, her heightened perception peering deep into him. Such intense scrutiny would normally be unnerving, but Robin utilized a certain tenderness when she engaged her friends in such a way. "I asked if you were alright."
He let go of his wounded arm and readied his weapon once more. "Of course. It's just a little scratch."
The woman rolled her eyes at his oblivious response. "That's not what I meant. You seem… distracted. Is something bothering you?"
He laughed softly, appreciating the fact the she could read him so well. It was rather a relief that he didn't have to hide anything from her, a rare quality that he attributed to very few of his comrades. "I'm not entirely sure, to be honest. In fact, that's why I came looking for you. I figured you might be able to help me out."
She nodded in agreement. "Of course. I'd be happy to help in any way that I can."
"Good. But before that…" he trailed off and corrected his stance, standing tall and poised as only a warrior king would. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, internally visualizing his next moves before he would execute them. From deep within his being, he summoned forth a boost of strength reserved only for the strongest of foes. He knew from experience that as he did so, his own body exuded a blue light, signifying the build-up and release of stored energy in a burst of power. This would result in the reduction of his opponent's defense and resistance simply from the shear overwhelming intensity.
He opened his eyes and rushed at Robin, noting with some satisfaction that he'd caught her slightly at unawares. Wielding his blade with nearly his full strength, in spite of his gash, he repeated his traditional downward vertical strike followed by a single horizontal slash.
He'd given her no time to switch back to using her sword, so she was forced to block with the bow. As planned, her defense was lowered and though her weapon took the brunt of the first attack, the hilt of Falchion hit her hard in the abdomen during the second assault. She contorted her body just enough to avoid the business side of his legendary steel, but the bow broke from the force of the blows.
Robin leapt away and doubled over, clutching her stomach. If she'd been a true enemy, he would have used this opportunity to finish her off, but in this instance, he backed off to allow her catch her breath. Likewise, had this been an actual battle she would have concealed her pain and counter-attacked rather than rest.
"Good one. Ugh, I'm gonna be feeling that tomorrow," she mumbled in a weakened, breathy voice.
A twinge of guilt shot through Chrom as he watched her straighten and continue to rub her belly in circular motions, and once more a wave of confusion washed over him. He never enjoyed hurting anyone, friends especially, even though some measure of pain went hand-in-hand with combat training. He and Robin frequently practiced together, and they often walked away from such training sessions equally wounded and scarred, and it had never really bothered him too much before. It was simply a necessary part of the routine.
However, in recent times (the present moment included) he felt a certain reluctance to train with her for fearing of causing her harm. The thought of Robin in pain of any kind burdened him, and he found himself feeling more protective of her in actual battle and more hesitant to spar with her at full strength, if at all.
He was reminded again of why he was out here in the first place. She was leaving with her team in the morning, and while he held concern for all of them, he was unusually fixated on her. The idea that something terrible might befall her while she was beyond his reach was somehow unbearable.
She exhaled loudly and tossed aside her broken bow, dragging him out of his contemplations. "Guess I'll need some new gear before I take off. My sword's just about had it too." She drew it forth once more and examined the edges. The blade had clearly dulled and it was starting to crack in a few places. She gripped the hilt so that she could easily execute the reverse style slashing form common to her current class and prepared for battle.
"Ready when you are!" she called.
He hesitated, suddenly unsure if he wanted to continue. "Maybe we should call it a night. I don't want you wounded and tired for your mission tomorrow."
She shook her head and smiled. Something about her smile created a strange sort of warmth in his chest. It was at once both comfortable and suffocating.
"I appreciate the consideration, but I'll be fine. We've been over this before, Chrom. My team and I are strong, and we're prepared for anything and everything."
"I know, but…"
"But talking about it apparently isn't very reassuring; I know." Her smile twisted into a cunning smirk and her eyes seemed to deepen almost sadistically as they narrowed in determination. "Perhaps a demonstration would put your mind at ease. Very well, since you insist."
"Wait! I didn't mean…" he trailed off as she raised her sword and a dark violet flame engulfed her form.
"Here's how it's done!" she cried.
Concludes in the next chapter...
