Robin thinks he's insane.
The voice in the back of his head tells him differently, that it's the others around him.
The voice, always guiding him, like an astral presence, always knowing whats going to happen and how it's going to happen.
The voice is comforting, almost motherlike, but he wouldn't know anything about that, all he knows now is what he has.
It tells him the Shepherds don't need him as much as he needs them, and he doesn't believe it for years, not until he's replaced, not because he wasn't good enough, but because of what he is.
The host of Grima. The Fell Dragon. Evil Incarnate and Destroyer of all.
He represents the thing they hate so much, why they're fighting in this battle.
The future kids see him as a demon, a monster hiding in human skin, the reason for the devastation and death in their future.
He doesn't blame them, but the voice tells him that he should.
He should want them all dead, they've replaced him, they've taken away his weapons, his books, his title, his purpose, he should hate them until his last breath.
He tells the voice that thats not him, that isn't Robin and that isn't what Robin would do.
The voice tells him he's an idiot.
They don't let him eat at the table anymore.
Not that its a spoken rule, but he doesn't like sitting with them, their glares obvious and tension high, weapons at the ready in case he does something.
It makes him sick.
Maybe he is sick. He's paler, looks like he hasn't been fed properly in months, and visibly tired.
You're fine.
The voice is telling him he should leave, find a way to be free.
He thinks its lying and trying to get him to do something he doesn't want to. The voice doesn't sound as comforting anymore, it sounds like a general, cold hearted and only trying to get what they want, and he doesn't like it.
He can't leave. They're always watching, keeping a close eye on him, making sure he doesn't try to kill someone in their sleep.
He doesn't blame them, in fact he encourages it at this point, the war is almost over and he just wants everything to end.
The voice is telling him to kill someone, maybe one of the future children, and for a second he sees himself doing it.
His hands around Noire's throat, slowly taking the breath out of her lungs, her eyes dulling, the earliest sign of death.
He wakes up, shaking and his tent was a mess, papers everywhere from his spasm getting up.
He's not sure if he screamed but giving the fact that shadows are moving around outside his tent, he assumes he did.
He decides he is going to kill himself.
No one will miss him and it is not like he cares about anything anymore.
He wasn't going to Heaven to begin with, him being what he is wouldn't permit it.
Don't do it.
The voice argues against it but he tunes it out, trying hard to forget its now returning comforting tone.
He jumps from the cliff that the Shepherds are held up at, the river below rapid and full of stones that would kill him on impact.
He doesn't look down after that, he just jumps, eyes closed and sounds of the roaring water getting closer. Wind was rushing past him and for the first time in months, he feels free.
It feels good.
Till it's over.
He wakes up days later, Chrom standing over him and looking pissed.
He hasn't seen Chrom since his replacement and he looked great.
They don't need you.
Chrom walks out seconds later and he tries to leave too, only to realize that he's shackled to the bed.
They don't care about you.
He finds himself agreeing with the voice again.
It's the final battle almost weeks later and he's still shackled to the bed.
He hasn't eaten since the night before he jumped and he's starved and scared.
The voice hasn't spoken to him since he woke up and he's scared because he's use to it telling him what to do.
Get up.
The voice commands him to do it and he does, the shackles seemingly melting into non-existence.
He walks passed it all, his former comrades fighting for their lives and others and he just walks pass them.
He does't care anymore.
His eyes have been opened. He doesn't feel sick anymore.
He knows what needs to be done.
He stands in front of it, Grima, and just stares. This almighty creature who his father and people worshipped, stood in front of him, in all of its glory.
He hears the Shepherds calling his name, begging him not to do it.
He ignores them.
The voice speaks again, but this time everyone can hear it, it isn't just some figment voice in his head anymore.
Do you wish to join me?
It asks, the comforting tone returning as it shrunk until Robin stood at the same height as it, eye to eye with her, no it.
It looks like a female version of him, but he knows better, its picking this form to speak with him.
We could rule the world together, me and you. Can't you see it?
It shows him the 'new world' that they create and death surrounds it.
He decides he's done listening, pulling out a sword from a dead Risen's hand.
It doesn't move, just stares at him until it opens its mouth.
Without me you are nothing. You have no one without me. You really think this will change everything?
It poses its question towards him and he knows its right, but he's tired, he doesn't care anymore.
He bum rushes her, it, its been months since he last held a sword and he doesn't have time to remember.
It doesn't transform, just stands there, motionless as he rams the sword through its chest.
You're nothing without me.
"I know."
They'll kill you.
"I know."
You'll die.
"I don't care."
I hate you.
And it fades away and so does the Risen.
He knows he's next, he can feel it.
He turns towards them, the Shepherds looking at him with faces of amazement, and he walks down the hill.
They make a path for him, like he's a disease and they don't want to catch whatever he has.
Lucina reaches out towards him, but retracts her hand.
He keeps walking.
He hears Chrom and the others yelling for him.
He doesn't stop.
He keeps walking.
The wind is blowing and it starts raining.
Its peaceful.
He doesn't know when he fell, but he's on his back, looking up towards the stars, rain pellets hitting his face.
The smell of grass and dew all over him relaxes him, the feeling of death closing in.
It's comforting.
He hears them rushing towards him, boots hitting the ground, sounds of squelching and screaming in his ears.
He closes his eyes.
It's over.
No more voices telling him what to do.
No more being scared, depending on someone else to help him.
No more anything.
Because in the end, Robin knew it was his fate to die here, so others would live.
He had no choice.
Fate always wins in the end, no matter who challenges it.
No matter what.