I needed a wee bitty break from Values Dissonance to refresh myself, so I popped this together.
Daydreams are very funny things if you take a look at it. Sometimes they're really interesting concepts, sometimes they're guilty pleasures and sometimes they're blatant wish fulfilment and you know no one would ever act that way. But still, it's nice when people follow a script.
Unbeta'd. I do not own Fire Emblem.
"Libra, darling, look at those!" Libra faced his wife, her face sweet and smiling under her evening fur hat. She was motioning with her free hand to the display window of her favourite chocolatiere, the solstice display already on full display and delectable under amber-tinted lanterns. "The gold work on them is lovely, how do you think they do that?"
"Witchcraft," he answered instantly, and Robin pulled a face at him. "You'd rather admire the filigree than the filling, then?"
"I like them both, actually," she said, lightly squeezing their joined hands. "But the gold is so pretty, I couldn't help but notice."
"You do have a magpie's eye," he teased, and she shrugged unabashedly.
"I do, I admit. One day you'll lift up the mattress and find a collection of empty wrappers, worthless gewgaws and grubby earrings," she lamented dramatically, and Libra sighed with equal playfulness.
"I suppose I'd best burn the mattress then, if it the only way to avoid it," he said, and Robin nodded in solemn agreement. She pulled herself away from the display, which Libra was slightly thankful for as he already had a box of them wrapped and hidden away where even Gaius wouldn't look for them – the root cellar.
They passed the jeweler next, and Libra was mildly surprised to see that his wife hardly spared the bright gems and gold chains a glance, instead watching a group of children play in the last remnants of sunlight.
"Do you prefer your gold edible?" he asked, and Robin followed his gaze to the goldsmith's window.
"Well, that's always a huge bonus," she grinned, and then shrugged. "I lost interest in gaining more jewelry. Naga knows I have plenty of it."
"There are some beautiful pieces in there," Libra urged, his curiousity peaked by this new change. During their brief courtship, Robin had always taken the time to admire well designed pieces in the window. She had always been rather short on luxuries, so admiring the strings of pearls and beautifully set earrings was a sort of treat for herself. "Would you like one, Robin? It would be a pleasure to get you anything you like."
Robin laughed then, scrunching up her nose like a child enjoying a good joke. "Libra, dear, you don't need to get me a single cufflink." Robin loosened her hand from his grip – his finger slightly cold now her furnace heat was further away.
She delicately removed her glove, and held up her hand to the light. The modest ring he had given her, all he had been able to afford at the time, glinted clean and bright on her finger. "This piece – nothing could be better than this. It's all the jewelry I could ever want."
His heart swelling at that moment, Libra took her hand, kissing each fingertip before turning her hand over and brushing his lips over her palm. "I'd promised myself that when I had the means, I would get you anything you desired."
Robin's smile turned a shade cheeky. "I'd say you – "
"Libra?"
The priest jolted out of his fantasy, cracking open one eye and barely maintaining an expression of mild surprised, especially when the intruder turned out to be none other than the object of his daydreams.
"Sorry, were you praying?" Robin asked, worrying at her lip. "So rude of me, I apologise Libra, I'll – "
"Uh, no, that's quite alright, I was…merely contemplating tomorrow's march," Libra hurried out, as Robin looked ready to duck away from his spot by the fire. "Please, take a seat." To his pleasure, she did not hesitate, settling beside him and stretching her long legs closer to the flames.
They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, both content to stare into the fire. But gradually, as they always did, Libra's eyes drifted sideways to covertly study Robin's face. She had a large bandage covering one cheek, a memento from an enemy she almost ducked in time. Even so, the cut could have been worse, but it didn't stop Libra from tailing her for the rest of the battle to ensure her safety.
"Something on your mind?" her quiet voice shook him from his thoughts. He always studied her and she always caught him. It was almost a game, now, to see how long it took.
"I was wondering how that wound was going," he responded just as softly. Here, just the two of them at the campfire late at night, it seemed appropriate to speak with hushed voices. Libra liked that. He liked anything that was just between him and Robin.
Robin picked lightly at the gauze, giving him a smile so similar to the one he'd been envisioning minutes before. Just as sweet, just as puckish and, dare he hoped, as affectionate. "Very well. No infection set in, and it's healing nicely."
"It won't scar, then?" Not that it would matter. A scar would sully more delicate beauty, but Robin had a roguishness to her that could likely pull it off.
"Doubt it," she said, stretching languidly. "Though, it could be the kickstarter to that career as a pirate I've always dreamed about."
"We'd all be destitute in six months if you took up such unsavoury endeavours," Libra answered, his heart fluttering when she chortled in delight.
"Flatterer! You'd be on board with me of course," Robin assured him, shifting slightly closer to him – or to the fire, it could have been either. "You could be my direct link to Naga, praying for good winds and calm seas."
"I might be a more terrible pirate than you," Libra warned playfully. "Taking no prisoners and slaughtering the undeserving."
"See? That's how I know you'd be a kinder pirate than me!" Robin exclaimed. "You can't help but think of the poor souls who'd fall under your blade." She smiled kindly, and leaned in a little closer. "You'd pray for them, same as you pray for our fallen enemies now."
His heart was in his throat now – totally stunned, Libra could not help but gawp slightly. "How did…you know?"
Robin winked slyly. "Libra, darling -" he had to stifle a guilty jump at her choice of words "– I think I know you pretty well by now." She watched him for a moment, her eyes molten from warm firelight. "You're a good man." Her hand brushed his, just a graze, but one that sent heat rushing to his cheeks.
"I'd best get to bed," she said suddenly, standing up and taking a few steps back so quickly that he felt a cold draft fill the space where she had been. "First time in a while I don't have a task to keep me up until the wee hours." But still, she made no move to leave.
"Wouldyoulikemetowalkyoutoyourtent?" Libra rushed out, receiving a slightly confused look in response. "That is, I am retiring myself. I'll walk you." Robin beamed at him and held out her hand to assist him to his feet – he accepted it gladly, reveling in the curious contrast of her hand when his fingers wrapped it.
Her palm and fingers were rough, from wielding swords and the backlash of magic, but the skin over her knuckles and back of her hand was smooth. Normally, he would have helped himself up, made an excuse, anything to avoid making contact with another human being. But with Robin the mad dogs that bayed in his head were obedient and docile.
She pulled him up with ease, waiting patiently when he took a couple of moments to steady himself. The hands were still clasped together, and even as he told himself he should let go before their contact became awkward, he…didn't.
Neither did she. Her brown eyes flickered down to their hands, and he felt her gaze like a feather tip tapping over his skin. Her eyes went back to his, held it intensely for a few moments…then she motioned for them to walk on, her grip tightening ever so slightly.
Libra trailed along behind her, giddy and mystified and pondering whether or not he had once again slipped into a fantasy.
They met no one else – the only Shepherds awake were those on perimeter watch, so they had the camp to themselves. Their seclusion made Libra bold, especially when they left the string of lanterns that marked the main path and into the hamlet of tents. His grip changed, from a grasp to an entwining of fingers, when Robin accepted readily enough. They passed his tent, but he paid it no mind and neither did she, and if Libra did not know any better he would say she was taking him to long way around.
A figment of his imagination, which was now in overdrive and yelling out increasingly foolish suggestions.
The journey from there to her tent was miserably short, and Libra wondered for an insane moment if she would object to him sitting by her bed while she slept, keeping vigil with their hands laced together. She seemed strangely reluctant to leave as well, her thumb running over his and sending tiny little jolts to the small of his back.
"Thank you, Libra," Robin said, her hair catching the moonlight and making her look ethereal, like some celestial warrior who had leapt down from the stars.
He definitely needed some sleep.
"Happy to," he answered lowly, then before he could talk himself out of it, raised her hand to his face and lightly pressed it to his lips. A shiver went through Robin, he could see that even in the paltry silver light afforded to them – they stood frozen in the moment, gazes locked, only a few meaningless inches between them. Libra wanted very, very badly to pull her in close, feel the heat emanating off her that was just now tickling at his senses – after that, he wasn't sure what he dared to do.
But he released Robin's hand and hoped his reluctance did not show on his face. He bowed slightly, and her hand came to rest on his cheek. "Sleep well."
"And you." He did not watch her rustle into her tent, rooted to the ground for several moments after she left. He thought he heard a sigh from her tent, but it could have just as easily been the breeze.
Finally, he set off for his own bedroll, though he knew he would be up for a while yet. Perhaps he could get a head start on his latest lecture instead.
He had seen her, of course, here and there, trailing after the senior sisters like a ghost. She was new at the sequestery, a saved soul from Plegia and the superiors wished to keep her close. Every soul saved from the Grimleal was a victory against all that was tainted.
But there was something about their newest sister that was not so pious. She wore the same robe that all the female clerics of Naga wore, but hers looked…different. It hugged her body in ways that wasn't apparent on the other women. Her strangely shaded hair, quite a common sight in Plegia he was told, was always neatly tucked a demure headpiece – the eyes that burned in her smooth face were always full of mirth, like she was privy to an enormous joke.
He had taken to watching her. He knew she knew. He watched her in Mass, watched her go about her chores, when she ate with her fellow clerics and priests. Sometimes, he even slipped into the high pews of the cathedral and watched her kneel at the alter. He couldn't always make out her words, but her tone was never anything but companionable. Like she and the stone effigy of Naga were old friends catching up for a gossip.
One day, as he was cleaning the main chapel for the evening's service, he caught a scent. It was rich and foreign to the holy environment, but altogether too familiar to him.
Cloth rustled nearby, and Libra felt hunted. It sent a thrill up his spine.
Suddenly he was pushed, pressed into a small alcove, half hidden in the darkness, and he couldn't help the moan that escaped as plump lips attached themselves to his pulse and sucked divinely. A flash of milk-white hair obscured his vision, and he suddenly knew who his attacker was.
"Sis-Sister Robin!" He gasped out, trying to push the woman away and not really wanting to abandon her heat and feather touches, already attached to the sensation of her hips firmly pressed against his own. Her hands gripped his wrists like steel vices and held him still, now trailing nips and kisses up along his jawline to his already swollen lips.
"Brother Libra," she purred, and his name fell from her like aural sin. "I've been watching you for a while now." His thumbs grazed the spidery veins that ran up and down his forearms, sharp nails digging in just enough to darken the mist of pleasure that had fallen over his mind. "Watching you…watching me." Sister Robin pulled him into a searing kiss, her tender mouth tasting of dark cherries and summer wine. Libra felt his head spin and the fight leave his body, melting into her embrace and fitting himself over her slightly smaller form – one arm looped around her waist while the other cupped the back of her head and deepened their kiss.
Her hands released his wrists to thread through his hair, pushing the tendrils back from his face even as her tongue ran along his bottom lip. Where her hands went next Libra was unsure, because it seemed like she had hands everywhere, nimble and slow; he was relieved she couldn't touch his bare skin but at the same time wanting direct contact so very, very much. So when a hand slipped under the cloth that draped over his pelvis and skimmed the bulge so painfully cramped in his trousers, Libra did little more than groan greedily into her mouth.
She broke the kiss then and pushed him further back, his calves hitting a wooden bench and unbalancing him long enough for her to firmly sit him down. Before he could protest she was straddling him, her thighs firmly clamped around his waist and her fingers already working at the clasps holding his stylized robe shut. As soon as cool air hit his bare chest she was sliding down his body, parting his legs as she went and settling between them. Her eyes met his, and her delighted little smile sent electricity shooting to his groin.
He tried to pull her up, plucking desperately at her clothes and whimpering out some truly pathetic noises, but he was beyond caring. Still, he tried one last time to halt them both. "Sister Robin, we really – a-ah!" She had freed him at last from the confines of the cloth, her slim fingers gliding almost carelessly up his length. "Robin, we will be caught!"
"I suppose you'll have to control yourself as best you can," she hummed, her eyes dark and glittering wickedly in what light the candles had to offer. "Sing your praises to Naga." Then she engulfed him, and Libra's back arched, his head thrown back and his breathless gasps shaking themselves from his body –
Libra jerked his head up from its resting place on his folded arms. Blearily staring at his sole candle, which was nearly burned to a stump, Libra realized he had once again drifted off in the middle of drafting a new sermon.
'And straight into tarnishing thoughts,' he scolded himself. Deciding he would get no more work done at this late hour, Libra rearranged his papers, lidded the inkwell and snuffed out the candle.
Fingers already fumbling at his buttons, Libra made hasty work of removing his dayclothes until a struggle with his trousers made him frown into the darkness.
Well that would definitely need to be taken care of. Quietly.
Grima was defeated, at long last. His companions stood around him, many injured or unmoving, but he knew none had passed. Naga herself had blessed him with the power, and as Chrom fell before Grima's poisonous light it was he who had raised his axe, imbued with Naga's grace.
It was he who had dealt the fatal blow.
"Libra!" He turned, his hair swinging in the dying sunlight like a sword, eyes alight with determination, passion and…passion, and…
"Are you unwell, manspawn?" It was Panne. Who else would it be? Libra pasted a smile onto his face and refocused on her frowning face. "Speak, manspawn, before I collect my salves and go."
"No, no…I'm quite alright," he assured her, accepting her order slip with all the interest he could muster. Daydreaming on his own time was bad enough, but slipping away into a fantasy world while on his assigned duty? Unacceptable. Especially since the plot of this particular fancy was poorly conceived.
He handed over the salves to Panne's waiting hands, and he was sure he saw a flicker of concern underneath the standard expression of disappointment in humans she habitually wore. "I am fine, dear Panne, though your worry is touching," he said again, and Panne nodded slowly.
"Fine, well…Be sure to eat properly, it wouldn't do for you to be unwell," Panne grunted, then stalked off to her own private apothecary.
Libra shook his head, and sat back down at the quartermaster's table. Robin had drawn up a new rotating job roster when it turned out that Cordelia and Frederick were bearing the brunt of the day to day work – Libra had snatched the first draft from her unsuspecting hands and found she had elected instead to dump that workload on herself.
Libra had made Robin rewrite the whole thing with him hovering over her shoulder. Partially out of concern and partially because it seemed nowadays he would do anything to be close to her.
In a perhaps overzealous attempt to stop Robin from working herself to the bone, Libra had elected to take on quartermaster duty – cataloguing their non-combat supplies, reordering what was required and divvying up supplies as people needed them. A job that achieved new levels of tedium and frustration; it was no wonder Libra found himself off drifting off more often than not.
Still…he wasn't a man to leave something unfinished…
Libra slouched over the table and propped up his elbow, cupping his chin in his palm. His eyes glazed, lips parted slightly and –
And courage. Robin stood a few feet away, her hair curling in the wind like a banner – she paid no heed to the locks caressing her face, eyes wide and glued to Libra's unwavering form. "Libra, are you harmed?" she cried, stumbling forward in her haste to reach him. Libra caught her smoothly when her knees gave out just inches from his stalwart form, his hands wrapped gently around her elbows.
Robin tossed her head back and stared at him wide-eyed, panting slightly - her beautiful orbs were slightly moist and shiny, as though she had been lamenting not moments before. Libra smiled at her reassuringly, and he knew it made his eyes light up and accentuated the masculinity of his jaw, especially since Robin gasped and averted her eyes shyly.
"I-I was so worried," she whispered, her hands now resting on his shoulders, his at her waist. "I thought the worst, but you were…magnificent."
"I did it for you," he answered huskily, lifting a hand and resting it on her cheek – face. Her face. – Libra's mind temporarily screeched to a stop as his imagination tried to take the little interlude down a different path, but he soon had it – her eyes half-closed at his touch. "Grima was nothing more than a fly to swat, my love," Libra murmured in her ear, smiling as she pressed closer. "Knowing I would see you after the battle gave me the strength to push through."
"Ah, Libra," she sighed, resting her head against his chest to hear his powerful heartbeat. "I knew you would pull through for me. You're too strong to be defeated by such a creature, fearsome as he may have been." She tilted her head to stare at him once more, her gaze hungry and pleading all at once. "Promise me, Libra, you won't leave?"
Under the setting sun, with Grima's fell corpse dissolving to ash and Chrom looking on in despair, Libra lifted Robin's face to his. "I –
"Argh!" A sharp sting in his side drove Libra abruptly out of his daydream, and subsequently out of his chair. He landed in an undignified heap on his rear, Sully's unmistakable snigger drawing his attention to the door. She expertly flicked up her spear, the source of his abrupt return to reality, and let it rest against her shoulder.
"Once you've finished playin' with the faeries, Libra, could you ask them for a new water flask and a half-pound of pixie dust?" Sully asked, her grin huge and predatory. "I'm fresh outta both."
Libra decided he was above giving that an answer, and instead accepted her order slip silently. Sully watched him with unconcealed enjoyment, leaning heavily on her spear as he gathered the few items listed.
"Thinkin' of a pretty girl?" Sully cooed, laughing raucously when Libra stiffened and almost dropped the pouch on his hands. "You got it bad, pretty man! Har, pretty girl for a pretty boy!"
Sully guffawed at her own joke, finally drawing a strained smile from Libra, who stood serenely next to her until she wiped at her eyes and snatched up the pouch.
"Thanks buddy!" She inspected the contents and threw him a wink. "What, no pixie dust?"
"It's in the next shipment, I know you'll need it for your beauty regime," Libra rebutted, coaxing another belly laugh from Sully. She took no offence from his remarks on her appearance, same as he bore no grudge when she flipped him into the dirt during training.
"Aw well, you give it to your lady friend." Sully nudged him playfully. "Not that ya need it, ya damn great beauty! Har har!"
Libra was focused on his work, for once, when he sensed the arrival of Robin.
She did not greet him, as she usual did. She did not move forward immediately, or clap him on the shoulder, or do any of the things that he knew as Robin. Since she was not acting as she usually did, Libra surmised she was not here for a standard reason, and that made heat wind tightly in his gut and scythe through his body in a matter of seconds.
She approached slowly, deliberately, until her shadow fell over Libra's desk and the last puffs of her breath ruffled his hair.
"Robin…it's rather late, don't you think?" he tried to keep his voice light, he really did. But Robin must have heard the tightly controlled anticipation in his voice, because her hands suddenly rested on his shoulders, her heat sinking into his skin instantly and soothing his body. His mind wanted him to tense, to coil up – but he relaxed instead.
Her hands began to move. Libra wondered if he should subtly prick himself with his pen, in case he had once again fallen into reverie.
His muscles nearly melted under her touch, her thumbs kneading away knots he didn't even know existed and nimble fingers coaxing out the tension in his back. She worked her way down as far as their position would allow, then slowly worked her way back up. She took her time, stopping to work on a particularly resistant bundle here then stimulating a particularly sensitive point there.
By the time she reached his shoulders again, Libra was entirely pliable, his drooping eyes partly shut and breathe coming in deep, satisfied bursts. Her questing fingers grazed the scar at the back of his neck, and the tension flooded back, his standard fight or flight response kicking into overdrive. It was involuntary but Libra knew Robin felt his sudden anxiety, and her hands pulled back until only the tips of her fingers rested between his shoulder blades.
Suddenly panicking at the thought she might leave, leave now when their relationship and Libra's world was teetering on the brink of something, Libra spun around and grasped her hands, pulling her close.
"Don't go," he croaked, his mouth suddenly dry and clumsy. "It's…fine. Just some old memories." He would be damned before he let the half-formed memory of his parents jeopardize his time with his lovely tactician.
She nodded, sliding her hands from his and resting her palms on either side of his face. From there they slowly wove into his hair, teasing out his braids and as his hair fell loose about his face and through her fingers he felt that this was intimate, this was what he wanted.
His eyes had closed at some point, and he opened them to find Robin staring at him in open awe. "You are…" she whispered, her hands coming back to stroke just under his eyes. The sensation was ticklish but enthralling.
"…Beautiful?" he suggested irreverently, and her lips curved into a smile.
"That too," she agreed, and now she was leaning down to his face until they were so close they were almost sharing breath. Libra couldn't help moistening his lips, the colour in her eyes softening to decadent chocolate as she followed the movement.
"I was going to say mesmerizing and very, very desirable." Her voice was a rumble now, her eyes searching his face for the impact her words had on him. Libra moved then, pulling her down so their foreheads delicately touched, his hands moving of their own volition to stroke her skin in adoration.
"I love you," he breathed, his eyes pricking with the relief of finally saying it – there was no rejection in her eyes, only acceptance and a hint of relief.
"I love you too," was her response, and then he felt her chest hum with laughter. When they had closed the gap, and their bodies had met, Libra could not quite pinpoint. "That's good, I'd hate to have to try and extract myself from this situation if you didn't."
"I'd at least care about you enough to start a fire, so you'd have an excuse," Libra bantered, and her quiet laughter vibrated through him, into some deep, private part of his soul and turned the mirth she gave to joy. He inhaled deeply, revelling in her proximity and presence, his hands settling on the small of her back and his head nuzzling into the crook of her neck.
"You have no idea how long I've wanted this," Robin confessed, and Libra grinned into her shoulder.
"Tell me more."
And theeeeen...babbies. I was actually debating whether or not to resolve the tension or just finish off on one of Robin's flights of fancy. But I needed a little 'awww' in my life. Love to hear what you think!