I was so incredibly disappointed with the supports for a f!Tactician and Frederick. There was so much potential! Augh, so, I wrote the supports-between-the-supports. The SS conversation at the bottom is a tad spoilerific if you haven't gotten to chapter 13. I tried to make it as vague as possible to avoid anything too obvious, so if you want to chance it, you can. You have been warned!

- C+ -

Dawn had yet to peek over the distant mountains, smoky blue in the early pink blush of near light. Overhead a softly rolling landscape small clouds glowed pink as candy, silently keeping vigil over the pitched tents that stood in an orderly grid among the flat lands. The peace of the early hour was entirely unbroken, save for a loud sneeze from one of the tents near the center of the encampment.

Fredrick sat up on his cot, clearing his throat and squeezed his eyes shut tightly against the scratchy pain it caused. More of an irritant than anything, and the knight dismissed the feeling, running his hands through his unruly hair and inhaled deeply. As he got out of bed and began preparing for the new day he noted with no little amount of disappointment that he was up later than usual. True, no one in the camp save the third shift sentries would be up at this hour, but for Fredrick this lapse in duty was simply not acceptable. He would have to push to get back on time with things if he wanted to accomplish all of his duties before Chrom woke.

His tent was orderly as a painting by the time he left in full armor to gather his horse and saddled it, making the rounds to check on all the sentries. He collected their reports, satisfied that the camp had not been beset in the middle of the night nor was there any other suspicious activity to note. There was a certain lethargy to his normally sprightly pace however, something he definitely noticed when shooing a small clan of grouse from their nesting place that was entirely too close to Lissa's tent for his liking before going on to do his daily inspection of the equipment. By that point the camp had started waking up, the sun now fully raised above the peaks of the distant mountains which were now purple in the light of day. For the most part, the other soldiers left him alone. They had their own duties to do after all. Alone in his task, Fredrick was set upon by a bout of coughing that did finally manage to catch someone's attention.

"Frederick?"

He turned to see Robin there, her hood pulled up against the chill of the morning, her hand resting easily on the pommel of her sword in a casual stance. Her head was cocked slightly to the side, her brows drawn together in worry. "Are you feeling alright?"

"It's nothing to worry about." The knight replied casually, his returning look flat despite the scratchiness of his throat. A momentary inconvenience at most. He set aside a lance that he had deemed worthy to pick up a second one that seemed a little worse for the wear. He thought that he was alone again when the coughing took him, this time forced to double over and use the lance to support himself.

She was there in an instant, her tiny hands on the thick plate covering his arm. "Fredrick! Gods man, you're sick as a dog!" Robin waited until the bout had passed and Fredrick straightened himself, composed once more and looking no worse for the experience save the dark smudges under his eyes and slight paleness to his complexion. "Come on, let's get you back to your tent."

The tactician tugged on his arm as if to lead him away, but Fredrick stood as immovable as any mountain and just as grim and serious as ever. "I have duties to perform." He replied and shot her a look as if she should know better than to try and manipulate him. He had made it quite clear that trusting her was entirely out of the question given her dramatic appearance in a field with conveniently no memory at all, save that she knew Chrom. The tactician would be taking him nowhere, sick or otherwise. "Perhaps you should attend to your own. We have a long day ahead."

Stubbornly, she did not dismiss herself in a huff, though her simmering anger was bubbling close to the surface. He had yet to see the small woman get angry, but would venture a guess that he was dangerously finding out what she was like when she was truly pissed off. "Fredrick," Robin's tone was serious, the voice she used when commanding units on the battlefield. "We can not afford our most skilled officers to be waylaid by the common cold. You need rest, or it's only going to get worse."

He leveled a glare at her, in no mood to be discussing what he needed with her of all people. "Thank you for your concern, but it is unnecessary. I know what I must do for the service of my Prince. Good day."

Obviously miffed at the dismissal, her shoulders tightened, her glower darkened, and her hand gripped the pommel of her sword. "Fight me." It wasn't a command. It was a challenge.

Frederick looked over his shoulder to see her drawing her sword, a look of utter determination on her face as she readied her blade, sinking into a stance that he recognized from their last training session. "I will do no such thing." He replied and set the lance he had been inspecting aside, deeming it unworthy for extended combat.

"If you can not defeat a little thing like me, then what hope do you have of protecting Chrom in a real battle?" Robin shot back, acid in her tone. "If you beat me, I'll leave you alone to collect pebbles. If you can't defeat me, you will march back to your tent and rest."

He frowned at that, looking at the impatient set of her shoulders and the absolutely icy glare she shot him. But Frederick didn't get up before the crack of dawn to fight hotheaded tacticians and had zero interest in entertaining a battle with the woman. He was about to say as much, but she seemed to read the look on his face, her glare becoming positively glacial. Suddenly she burst forward with a flurry of movement, swinging her sword up in a devastating blow that would have beheaded him if he didn't step backward, the tip of the blade whistling past his face by mere inches.

Frederick's battle instinct took over, grabbing a lance and swung the haft of it. He was too slow to catch her off guard, and Robin danced neatly out of his way, using her momentum to swing around to his flank, forcing him away from the weapon rack and into the open flat of the training ring. He went willingly, allowing himself to be corralled backward simply because the space would give him more room. It was odd fighting on foot rather than off the back of a horse, but he could adapt quickly. Robin had fought with him like this before and he knew her moves, knew her style and the way that she would react when push came to shove. She feinted for his left, thinking herself clever and that he would be fool enough to fall for the ruse. Their weapons clashed and Robin was forced to take another tact, switching her style as soon as the last maneuver failed and forced Frederick through every counter he knew in the span of a handful of moments spent exchanging blows.

Very quickly he realized that something was terribly wrong. By this point, Robin should have been wheezing and dragging, struggling to mount so much as a meager defense. She had broken out into a sheen of sweat but she showed no sign of slowing down in her avid offense while Fredrick struggled to draw breath. His lungs burned, the rawness in his throat that had been developing all morning finally catching up with him, exacerbated by the strain of performing his daily duties and the intense physical requirements of the fight that had suddenly unfolded. With no small amount of stung pride, he realized that he was being beaten.

Steeling his resolve he tried to put the physical detriments of his condition aside and focused entirely on the battle, mustering his strength to clear enough distance that the shorter length of her sword would be her own undoing, put at the mercy of the longer reach of the lance. She responded instantly when she realized his intention, refusing to be pushed back and bore the punishment with a grimace and slipped inside his guard. The tip of her sword thrust up until it touched the point of his chin, both combatants standing stock-still. Robin heaved, keeping her eyes locked on Frederick who had only gotten paler over the course of the battle.

"Yield." She hissed, her hand steady though the rest of her trembled, obviously exhausted from the battle. The tactician had only kept up with him because he was sick. She hadn't suddenly become more adept a sword wielder over night.

"I yield." His voice was ragged, having to pull deep breaths, winded after the battle and began coughing again, this time with far more force.

Robin sheathed her sword quickly and sidled under his arm, propping the big knight up and allowed him to lean the bulk of his weight against her smaller frame. His lance clattered to the ground, completely forgotten and gratefully used Robin as support until he could stop coughing.

"Come on, let's get you to bed." She said softly, shooting him a worried smile and adjusted his arm so that the plates of his armor weren't digging into her shoulder. "By the gods man, how do you lug all this armor around?" Frederick was too beside himself with trying to concentrate on walking to answer her mumbled question. By the time they got him back to his assigned tent it was all Robin could do to drag him inside and help to unbuckle the harder pieces of his armor.

"I'll make sure that the weapons and armor are checked." She was saying, concentrating on a buckle at his side, out of breath from the fight and having to drag Fredrick through the camp. "So just concentrate on getting better. I mean it Fredrick. Chrom will have your head if you die of the flu." Her joke went completely unnoticed by Frederick who for once just wanted to lie down and rest.

"Thank you." He mumbled when his chest plate was off, making it easier to breathe and coughed a couple of times more, though not as violently as before.

"Don't mention it." She smiled genuinely this time, hanging his armor on the rack beside his cot. "You've got the rest?" Her gesture encompassed his few remaining pieces of armor.

"I can manage." Fredrick replied and sat heavily on the edge of his cot with a sigh and a small cough, working at the last pieces of his armor. Robin smiled and bid a farewell, leaving Frederick to his own devices. He paused, looking at the armor already on the rack and quietly marveled at how natural it had been to have her standing with him under the wing of his arm. Shaking his head, he pulled off the last of his armor and clothes and fell soundly asleep.

- B+ -

It was perhaps near midnight by now, most of the camp well asleep with the third shift just starting their patrols. Frederick was making his rounds as well, inspecting the camp for anyone that might have thought night was an opportune time to catch them off guard. It was quiet, like it was almost every night that he'd done such patrols, but that did not deter him from doing a thorough inspection of the camp. He was about to head back to his own tent when he spotted a light and headed that way instead. He immediately recognized the lit tent as Robin's and grimaced, wondering if she would be up devising new ways to test his palette. Yes, he had asked for it, but that didn't mean that he enjoyed trying various dried meats any better than he had the first time.

Against his better judgment he strode to the tent's entrance and hesitated just outside of it, his hands clasped behind his back. "Robin?"

He heard something thump and then a groan followed by a cascade of papers falling onto the ground. "Come in." Her voice was obviously strained and groggy, like she had just woken up.

When Frederick ducked inside it was to see the tactician kneeling on the ground, rubbing her forehead and picking up papers while mumbling to herself. She looked up briefly and spared Frederick a small, though genuine smile. "Hello there Frederick. Heading in for the night?"

"I was about to, until I noticed your candle still lit." He replied and knelt on the ground, quickly helping her to gather the papers. Once he had a neat pile in his hands, he stood and handed them over to which she thanked him and put them back on the desk from which they'd fallen. "I'm surprised to see you up still."

She smiled at the unasked question. "We won that last battle by the skin of our teeth. I'd rather not get into another situation like that if at all possible. I've been studying the battle to see if I can determine their tactics, figure out how they almost beat us, and why they've suddenly changed their style." Robin tapped the stack of papers absently, staring at nothing in particular with a distant gaze as her mind grappled with some other topic.

"Robin," Her gaze snapped to him at the sound of his voice, her vision clearing in that second and focusing on him instead of whatever mire she had conjured. "Why do you fight for Chrom?"

The question had caught her completely off guard and she blinked at Frederick, confused. "What do you mean?"

He straightened slightly, clasping his hands behind his back and stood solidly, imposing in the small space of the tent. "You have no memory, unless that has changed." Robin shook her head once; her memory was still very much absent. "Then you have no previous allegiance to my lord, and no obligation to serve him. So why do you do this?" He gestured at the half-burned candle and the thick trails of melted wax dripping down its sides.

She glanced at the candle, tugging at her bottom lip with her teeth. "It just feels right." Came the reply after a moment, and Robin looked up at Frederick, her gaze curiously unguarded. "Whoever I was before Chrom and Lissa found me in that field may matter. Perhaps it won't. But whether who I was before would agree with picking this side of the war doesn't matter now. You are all important to me." She smiled kindly and folded her hands together in front of her. "When I had no one and nothing, the Shepherds took me in and welcomed me as one of their own. It might have been a little rough at first, but you're all my friends, and I will protect my friends no matter what. Right now, the best way that I can do that is making sure that we win. If that means a few all-nighters…" She shrugged, tapping the papers on her makeshift desk again. "Well, what are a few hours of sleep compared to the life of someone that I care about?"

The timid smile that she fixed him with left Frederick lost for words and a curious tightness in his chest. He cleared his throat to bridge the silence. "A noble pursuit. You have done a fine job thus far. I hope that we shall continue to be successful." The compliment was forced, polite, something that he was expected to say.

Robin's eyes became guarded again and she leaned back, resting her hands on the back of her chair. "And why do you serve Chrom?" She asked casually, though he knew that with her intelligent and keen mind, she never simply asked idle questions and not make notes of the outcome. "Here you are, patrolling the campsite from dawn until dusk, picking pebbles out of our path, and keeping remarkable tabs on the state of our arms. I've never heard your story, Frederick."

He couldn't have been more aware of the intense look she was giving him, as if he were a bug under glass or a new book that she had found interesting. It was… unsettling, to be so closely scrutinized. "It is my duty." He replied matter of fact, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, as if he was permanently stamped with a sign on his forehead that everyone should have been able to read. "I can do no less than to see that my lord and lady are protected."

"But is that all?" She asked, leaning forward slightly and crossed her arms over her chest, folding her hands inside her opposite sleeves. "You don't feel… kinship with Chrom and Lissa? Is it just a job to you?"

Frederick's brows drew down into a frown, clearly offended and Robin had the good sense to look chastised when she realized that she had crossed some invisible line. "I'm sorry, Frederick." She mumbled immediately, standing apart from her chair. "I just don't understand, is all. I would like to understand, I really would."

The knight considered her words a moment, and then heaved a small sigh. "Service for service's sake is often enough." His voice was low when he spoke; quiet, though Robin had no trouble hearing him. He could have whispered and she would have still heard, the camp in the dead of night as silent as any grave. "I have known Chrom and Lissa for a long time. I do consider them friends, but my role as a knight comes before even that. Were it not that I was formally bound to serve and protect them, I would do it anyway, just as the other Shepherds would… just as you have."

Her smile was small as the light of understanding dawned on her. Robin walked forward, placing a gentle hand on the thick plate armor on his arm. "Well, if you ever need a friend, you can talk to me, alright? Luckily, you have no oath of service sworn to me, hm?" She patted his arm and stuffed her hands in her pockets with a bashful smile. "And if you suddenly run out of things to micromanage, stop by, will you? I could use some help with all…" she gestured vaguely at the stacks of papers and books that littered her table. "…this."

He glanced at the disorderly piles, his fingers twitching to straighten things, but held himself remarkably in check, tamping down the urge to clean things. "I will keep your offer in mind." It would provide ample excuse to keep an eye on her, if nothing else. Robin might have seamlessly worked her way into the Shepherds and the army, but she was still an unknown variable that danced a little too close to his royal charges. "Good night, milady." He gave a short bow to which Robin smiled and quickly caught the edge of his chest plate and stood on her toes to reach his cheek and give him a quick kiss.

When the only response was a bewildered look from Frederick, Robin shrugged. "Thanks for being open with me. I know it's probably difficult for you since I am… well, who I am."

Massive understatement if ever there was one, but he found himself smiling anyway. "Astute as ever."

"Good night, Frederick." They parted without another word; the knight to his own quarters and the tactician to pretend to clean up her mess before calling it quits for the night.

- A+ -

Truth be told, he was avoiding Lissa. She had it in her head that he needed lessons in slacking off, and she was not going to relent on her special regiment of "training". Chrom had already banned him from outright doting on the prince and if Lissa caught him trying to sort the weapons on one of his "days off" she would simply throw a fit. And a Lissa throwing a tantrum over him working to hard was not something that Frederick wanted to see.

So, he had confined himself to his tent after he had done as much work as he could without either of his royal charges lifting an eyebrow in disapproval and polished his armor. When even he had to admit that he couldn't possibly polish it anymore, he had been forced out of his tent by a need to do something and was reduced to walking around the camp without his armor, lest Lissa think he was up to something that involved menial labor. Secretly he snuck a look at the equipment tent and its contents, but couldn't linger for too long. Lissa knew that he paid visits if he could and often dropped by to make sure that Frederick was properly relaxing. He had almost resigned himself to heading back to his tent to try and sleep when he walked by Robin's tent.

He paused outside of it, noting that she was probably already studying or managing the army's affairs. The soft glow of a candle vaguely lit the fabric of the tent in the dim light of the evening. Perhaps she would have something for him to do. Lissa would not come to Robin's tent looking for him. Ever since his relaxation training had started, Robin had been the one person he could go to that would provide him with tasks if he truly started to go mad with idleness. He called her name and when there was no answer he couldn't help but to smile. She had probably fallen asleep on her books again, an occurrence that was becoming more common as of late.

Frederick let himself in, making sure that she was slumped over the table with her head resting on her arms before fully walking in. Just as he thought, she was dead to the world. With a shake of his head he picked up the books that were nearest to her elbows and most likely to fall off if she should jump awake and stacked them neatly out of flail-range. Once her desk was suitable he bent to blow out the candle, deciding that it was probably best he not disturb her any more.

Before he could actually snuff the small flame Robin suddenly awoke with a strangled scream that startled the living ghost straight out of Frederick and sat bolt upright in her chair. Her brows were drawn together in agony, her eyes squeezed tight and her hands immediately went up to clutch at her head. "No!" She wailed, completely unaware that she was not the only one in the tent.

"Robin?" Frederick breathed, recovering quickly from the scare she'd given him and touched her gently to which she promptly jumped a foot in the air out of fright and toppled out of her chair, groaning when she hit the floor. Kneeling next to the downed woman, Frederick tried to help her sit back up, though was cautious that his touch might scare her again. "What in the name of the gods was that?" He asked gently, her eyes pulling away from that foggy place to focus with painfully crystal clarity on him instead.

"Frederick!" She threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and heaved a wracking sob, gulping in air and tears and shuddered like a leaf in the wind, her face buried against the solid mass of his chest. Blinking in surprise and properly concerned, Frederick put his arms around her and she trembled all the harder.

"What's wrong?" Truly he was concerned that something terrible was happening to her, and wondered if perhaps some dark magic was involved.

"Will you protect Chrom?" She suddenly gasped; pulling away enough to look him in the eyes and her trembling lessened somewhat, though her eyes still glittered with tears. "Would you protect him?"

"Of course!" Frederick didn't even need to think about it. Protecting Chrom was fairly second nature to him.

"From anything?" She asked, her hands suddenly digging into the muscle of his shoulders, gripping him as if he were the last anchor she had in reality and fearing what would happen if she let go. "From anyone?" Her voice quavered, her lips trembling and fresh tears pushed out the old ones, spilling down her cheeks without restraint.

"From anything or anyone." He repeated with confidence, gently wiping the tears from her face. If the calluses of his hands bothered her she did not flinch from the rough texture.

"Promise me." She breathed, leaning forward into his hands, biting her lip as she did so. "Please, promise me that no matter what you will protect him."

"I swear it, on my honor as a knight." His worry only increased, Robin's vagueness adding to his concerns about her already fragile state.

The promise seemed to calm her though and she rested her forehead against his chest just under his collarbone, heaving a deep shuddering breath and relaxed the death grip she had on his shoulders. "Thank you." She whispered without raising her head, her trembling coming to an end at last.

Once she had settled enough, Frederick decided it might be safe to try and find what all this was about. Gently he lifted her by the shoulder, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Robin, what is this about?" He searched her gaze, her eyes red and tearstained from the brief but violent cry she had just indulged in. "Do you know something? Is Chrom in danger?"

"Yes." She whispered, her eyes wide as if understanding had just hit her. Suddenly she flinched hard and clutched at her head. "I-I don't know w-why." She stammered through the pain, curling in on herself against the torrent of pain that had hit her, struggling to make the words come out. "Just… something is going to happen… I don't know when, or how, but Chrom-" She was cut off again when the migraine hit her with full force and could only collapse into Frederick's embrace as he pulled her against his chest.

They sat like that for a long while, Frederick carefully maneuvering the incapacitated Robin into his lap so that she could feel more secure until the bout passed. He felt it when the pain finally left, her whole body relaxing more fully against him. Slowly, she reached up and touched the back of his hand. "Thank you." She whispered, her voice strained and tinged with the barest whisper of pain. "I don't know what happened, but it helped that you were there. Thank you."

Frederick gave her a small squeeze of reassurance, offering a smile that he didn't quite feel. "Will you be alright?" He wanted to ask about her warning, the promise she had asked him to make and what it all meant, but he was afraid that such pointed questions would lead back to pain. Spending as much time as they did these past few weeks, he had come to realize that these headaches were more frequent than he had first assumed, and they were getting worse the longer than the war dragged on. Never before had he seen her so overcome that she couldn't even make full sentences, however. Something was going on, and he had a terrible notion that it had something to do with her missing memory.

"I'll be fine with some sleep." She said after a moment, taking a deep breath to collect herself, pulling her resolve back together by pure will force if need be. Suddenly she blinked, looking up at Frederick as if it was the first time that she had realized he was there. "When did you get in here? Is it morning?" She looked him up and down, quickly, her eyes widening slightly in surprise. "Why aren't you wearing armor?"

If Robin could be asking so many questions, then Frederick assured himself that she had recovered for the time being. "It is near midnight, milady. I saw your candle still lit." He replied softly, looking her over to assure himself that she did indeed look better before finally allowing his hold to slacken. She did not move off his lap however, still marveling at his lack of armor. Frederick cleared his throat. "Today is, unfortunately, one of my days off."

Understanding lit her face and a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "Lissa huh?" She chuckled, running her hands through her hair. "Well, I have to give her props for conforming you. You deserve a day off every now and again, even if it does drive you batty." Her smile was only half-hearted and Robin made to remove herself from his lap.

Something about the look on her face had Frederick reaching out, touching her chin gently with the tips of his fingers so that Robin looked at him. "She means well, but at the end of the day, she is still my charge."

The tactician's answering smile was a little more genuine this time. Carefully, she removed his hand, holding it in her own. "Thank you for always looking out for me Frederick. On and off the battlefield. I truly appreciate it."

They shared a look for handful of seconds that seemed like eternity, then Frederick dipped his head and Robin met him halfway, their lips meeting in a kiss. She slipped her arms around his neck and his around her waist, drawing close until there was no space to be had between them. After a moment they parted, simply soaking each other in and Frederick gave her a small squeeze. "You will have my arm on the battlefield." He whispered, their foreheads touching now. "And my heart any time you wish it."

Her answer was to kiss again, more fiercely this time and smiled against his lips. "I will give you the same." She breathed in response, the warmth of his words pushing away the lingering pain and doubts.

- SS -

He found her standing on the crest of a hill, staring without really seeing the brilliant sunset that was only just now beginning to flirt with the edge of the horizon. Se was twisting her wedding ring, a habit she had developed ever since she had agreed to be his wife and allowed him to put it on. When she finally noticed him coming Frederick was already at her side, placing his hand at the small of her back. "What troubles you?"

She shot him a small smile and turned her attention back on the horizon, leaning into the comfort of his strong side. "Do you regret marrying me now?" Her question was quiet, distant, as if she already expected him to confirm her fears and had emotionally dealt with it.

Frederick was taken aback by the question. "What do you mean?"

"Well, we know who my father is now." She mumbled, twisting her ring absently but did not look up at Frederick again. "Knowing who I am… do you regret it at all?"

He frowned, walking in front of her and placed both his hands on his shoulders so that she would look at him properly. "Robin, all finding out who your father has done has proven to me that you are a princess." Her shocked look was met with his answering smile, and he knelt in front of her, taking both her hands in his own. "I have a life time's worth of knowledge of what the duties are of protecting royalty. Even knowing what I do now, if I could marry you all over again, I would."

Her eyes suddenly became teary and she sniffed, squeezing Frederick's hands. "Just make me one promise?"

"Anything, my love."

"Don't swear yourself to me." She said, her tone gone serious. "Not like you are to Chrom and Lissa. I gladly share the responsibility of protecting the Exalted bloodline with you, but I do not want a knight. I want a husband."

Frederick stood and gathered her into his arms and shared a long lingering kiss with her. "I swore my heart to you." He replied at long last, meeting her gaze. "Your origins do not define you. You are, and always will be, my wife above anything else."

Robin's smile was watery when she clung to him, a single sob escaping her. "Thank you, Frederick." She whispered against the solid plate covering the broad expanse of his chest. "I love you."

"And I you." Came the quiet reply as he tipped her chin up and kissed her once more to seal the promise.