Fate or free will? Can an individual truly decide their own destiny, or are our futures already written? Are the ties and bonds we forge with those we love what defines us, or are we tools forced to take a scripted path? My name is Robin, and my story is an embodiment of these questions.

Yes, that Robin.

I was young and lost back then, living a life without friends or purpose. I could not have imagined what the future would have in store for me, or the costs I would have to bear.

I suppose I'll start with how I joined the Shepherds, but I wasn't always at the center of this tale. At the center of their story. In the beginning, I was furthest from it.

It's a quiet and sunny day. The heat of the early afternoon beats down on a fairly unassuming trade hub, but it doesn't bother Robin one bit. He'd become quite used to dealing with the brutal summer days. The Plegian sun produced a muggy humidity that people used to being indoors could barely stand, but Robin shrugged it off. He was working now, and he couldn't afford distractions.

Robin himself was a cold, pale wisp of a man. He was far from scrawny, but he didn't impose either. He had the appearance of youth, and yet his hair was an unnatural stark white. He was handsome enough, but even the briefest glimpse into his brown eyes made light his cunning. He was always watching. Scanning. Analyzing. He was hard to look at, not because of his looks, but because of the depth of the intellect that would stare back into you if you did. His clothes were plain and pedestrian. He wore brown, cracked work boots, and his tan pants and shirt seemed to be faded slightly from sun exposure. The only thing about his outfit that jumped at you was his deceptively ornate cloak. The large hood, capable of hiding most of Robin's face to the point of concealing even gender when up, was decorated with purple designs, and the cloak itself featured gold trimming. The sleeves had six eyes on them done in the same color as the patterns on the hood and back. This was a common design on the attire of Plegian mages, invoking the religion that shaped the country so many centuries ago. Robin himself didn't know much about that. What he did know was that his cloak was perfect for concealing items, such as a bronze sword and thunder tome Robin kept for self defense. It was also useful for hiding. Especially with the hood up, it rendered him little more than a bobbing head in a crowd.

Trade hubs like this were hunting grounds to me. They had everything a drifter could need right in one place. As long as I can remember, though admittedly that's not far back, I've always had the ability to see things others couldn't. To understand in an instant what others would think about for hours. The same skills that allowed me to read the tide of battle so quickly served me well even then, but I only used them for survival at the time. I would sit back and watch the seas of people. The ebb and flow of the human tide. I missed nothing.

Scanning the area, Robin locked his eyes on an individual. He was a young man, only a few years younger than Robin if not the same age, who appeared to be alone. Physically he was tall and muscular, though not exceptionally so. His hair was a rare shade of navy blue, and he had what appeared to be a tattoo on his upper right arm. Robin would soon learn the significance of all this. He might have even grown up knowing what this meant, but his amnesia would have robbed him of the knowledge. Robin's attention was focused more on the man's face, specifically his expression. He looked happy and calm. More importantly, he seemed inattentive—unlikely to turn around and watch his back. His actual face was fairly dull, but that was not to suggest anything about his looks. Rather, his face had a lack of cunning. It was an open face, with kind eyes and a warm expression. Plotting and planning seemed alien to him, and deceit wasn't in his nature. He was trusting and kind. He wasn't the kind of man to be constantly watching for pickpockets or checking his environment.

Robin preyed on that kind of naivety.

And that was the first time I saw him. The man who would change my life forever. At the time he was just another mark. I immediately sized him up. As a tactician, I would use this skill to assess an enemy. To see his weapons, his skills, his fighting style. Back then, I focused on finding the best chance at a score. I'd figure out someone's class. Their affluence. What kind of valuables they might have on them. Whether or not they were armed. To me, he was just a nobleman of some deadly dull variety with an easily accessible bag. Wealthy, but a nobody in the grand scheme of things. He was perfect.

The nobleman looked like an easy enough target. Robin just had to make sure going after him would be safe. The blue haired blue blood had an elegant rapier by his side, but Robin figured he wouldn't be able to draw it quickly enough to injure him if he were caught. The man walked very close to the crowds, so Robin had an escape vector if it came to that. Deciding the approach was safe enough, Robin looked at the man's clothes—a telltale sign of wealth. He wore an obviously customized dark blue coat with gold trimming, and a light grey cape trailed behind him from his left shoulder. Capes were good. Capes meant someone had money to burn. Robin also noticed that his knee high boots were asymmetrically colored. One was dark blue, and one was light grey. This was another good sign. People who could barely afford to clothe themselves didn't bother with fashion statements like that. Robin did notice the man bulwarked his left shoulder under plating, but he didn't have any other armor, and Robin decided he likely wasn't a soldier. He was just an affluent noble with a bag hanging by his hip from a strap on his shoulder. The drifter gave a small smile as he got up from his bench and melted into the crowds. It was time to work for a living.

Poor, forgettable nobleman. He'd have to explain to somebody how he lost the valuables he was carrying.

Robin moved quickly, but his motions were subtle. He sticks close to moving groups so casually an observer would simply think he came with them. He is just another object in the formless mass of merchants, tourists, and transients, and yet he never loses sight of his mark. He is behind the blue haired nobleman within minutes.

Robin kept pace with the man, synchronizing their footsteps, and slowly retrieved a knife from his cloak. He'd been through this part more times than he could remember now, and his state of being became involuntarily. The quick movement that cut the man's bag free from the strap was reflexive at this point, and the smile that grew on Robin's face was equally automatic. Conversely, so too was the attack of conscience.

He didn't want to live like this, but the amnesia left him little choice. It had been gradual. A slow, creeping darkness. Robin would swear, could just feel, that he had been normal once. Just another tax paying Plegian citizen. Now he didn't even know what the word Plegian meant. The amnesia stole his memories. Perhaps even worse, he couldn't form new long term memories either. He still had skills, like wielding blades and tomes, but he couldn't bring himself to remember information. It ruined his life. How could he have a job when he'd forget what he did, or who his boss was supposed to be? How could he have a home when he'd forget where it was? He couldn't even have safehouses. Each day was a new set of challenges, and there was no learning from previous experience. Robin had instinct, natural ability, whatever tools he found on himself, and nothing else. He couldn't even tell you how long he'd been living like this. Weeks? Months? Gods forbid it had been years.

Robin felt the twinge of guilt each and every time he stole something, but he still allowed his lips to curl into a smug smile as he cut the bag free and silently seized it in one quick motion. If he had to get by this way, he could at least be confident in how good he was.

Yeah, that's right. I was a cutpurse. I'm sure I wasn't always one. I'm almost positive I was a normal Plegian once, but that was before the amnesia. My story doesn't just start here because I met the Shepherds then. Heh, I couldn't go back further if I wanted to. Even after all this time. As for how I came to actually know the man I stole from...

Robin only needed an instant to melt back into the crowd, leaving the nobleman unable to follow even if he knew what had just happened. His hood flipped up and his eyes fixed on the ground, he brushed past the patrons of the trade hub at a brisk pace until reaching the outskirts of the small settlement, and from there he disappeared into the surrounding prairie. The countryside here was dry and harsh. The unforgiving heat of the Plegian summer sun and poor soil killed most plants, and only the hardiest grasses could survive to live a patchy, brownish existence as food for small herds of feral mustangs.

Finally deciding to stop by a long dead tree, Robin folded up his cloak and set it on a patch of grass to keep it off the dust. Not caring as much for his worn boots and pants, the drifter eagerly sat down and began to dig through the stolen bag. He hoped to find gold, valuables, or at least something he could eat later. Instead he would discover only crisp sheets of carefully folded parchment.

"Not even a gold coin." Robin sighed as he lied back and used his cloak as a pillow. "I should have gone with someone else." The drifter thought about having to go back and try again, but his eyes idly scanned the parchment as he did, and he noticed how official it all looked. Unfolding the sheets, Robin realized he was looking at sensitive military information depicting troop movements, order of battle information, infiltration tactics, reports of incursions, and other such things. The drifter didn't recognize terms like "Plegian" or "Peace Accords Violations", but the raw data itself made perfect sense to him.

And he had no idea why.

Robin squinted intently at the parchment, but his thoughts were soon consumed by a severe burning sensation on his gloved right hand.

And that's when my birthmark flared up. In time, I would understand that strange, purple insignia emblazoned on my skin stood for everything I would fight against. Everything I would try so desperately to stop. Back then, I didn't think much of it. I kind of liked it, actually. I know it sounds strange, but I swear it would warn me whenever something was about to happen. It was a good luck charm. I didn't react quick enough to escape this time, but history would be very different if I did. If I hadn't been apprehended, I never would have joined the Shepherds.

"Stop! You violated the law! Your stolen goods are now forfeit!"

"What the?!"

Robin had been too lost in the stolen documents to hear the sound of horse shoes behind him, and he threw himself to his feet in time to get the shaft of a silver lance to the cheek.

And that's when I met Frederick. Believe it or not, the two of us would become great friends.

Wiping the dust and shale from his hair as he recovered, Robin glanced up to see a heavily armed and armored man dismounting. His innate tactical sense allowed him to quickly size him up. He was a Great Knight, clad in a full set of light blue and grey plate armor. The knight had a mess of curly light brown hair, and his brown eyes and square jaw supported a stern and unfeeling expression. Robin was rarely caught by the law, but he still had a skill for reading law enforcement officers. He could tell when one would hesitate to attack, or when one could be bribed.

With a quick glance back to the silver lance, Robin decided this was not one he wanted to mess with. "Hold on! I give up!" Robin threw his arms skywards. "I won't resist."

"Are you armed?!" The knight shot. Robin had no desire to play action hero right now.

"Y-Yeah. I have a bronze sword and a thunder tome in my cloak. A small knife too."

The knight quickly found and stripped Robin of these weapons, and he had to endure another minute of an aggressively thorough pat down before the man bound his hands behind his back with metal restraints. "You damnable thief. Do you have idea what you tried to steal?!"

"Military documents." Robin responded casually. He glanced back to see the knight glaring at him. "Uh… I mean… I don't know?"

"You knew what you were doing. You targeted milord on purpose!"

"No! No I… well… I did, but I thought he'd have something valuable. Whatever I just stumbled into, I swear it was by accident!"

"Are you a Plegian infiltrator?!"

"I don't know what that is!"

"Who are you?!"

"I don't know!"

"You expect me to believe you're but a common thief even though you recognize these documents for what they are? That you took them entirely by coincidence?"

Robin was getting desperate now. "Why would I admit I knew what the documents were outright if I were some kind of spy? If I was trying to hide them? It was an accident!"

"And if I recall, you tried to change your statement."

"... Just take me to jail. I won't resist, okay? Just put the lance away!"

The knight responded by spinning Robin around and planting the shaft of said lance in the ground to make sure he got a good look at it. "I think your bargaining posture is rather dubious, thief."

"Sorry, s-sir."

The knight got uncomfortably close to Robin, staring daggers at him. "Those documents are the key to a lasting peace between Ylisse and Plegia. To finally putting the legacy of the crusade behind us! Do you know the significance of everything milord has worked for?!"

"I… really don't."

The armored knight forcibly shoved him towards his equally heavily armored horse. "Then perhaps milord can explain it to you himself."

Robin was taken right back to where he started. His captor brought his horse to a stop at the edge of the trade hub, and the drifter was shoved off a moment before the knight himself dismounted. Robin almost lost his balance, and he noticed the distinctive blue and grey boots as he stumbled forward. Sure enough, he brought his head up to see the nobleman from before. His blue eyes were fixated directly on Robin this time, and he gave a small smile. It was confident, but not nearly as smug as Robin was sure it would be. Even now, the man was strangely friendly. "So you're the man who gave me so much trouble. I think you have something that belongs to me."

"I…"

Robin found his feet very interesting, and the knight stepped forward with the documents in hand. "The cache, milord. I apologize. I shouldn't have let you out of my sight."

"Please, Frederick. You don't have to watch over me every second of the day… though I admit you saved me here. Thank you."

"Of course."

"So what can you tell me about our new acquaintance?"

Frederick seized him by the hair. "I suspect he might be a Plegian spy. A common thief does not just stumble onto that kind of information."

"Frederick!" Empathy was the last thing Robin expected from a noble he wronged, so the man's genuine concern stunned him. "We don't have to be rough with him."

"He stole from you! He's a spy!"

"I'm not!" Robin quickly chimed in as he reflexively grabbed at his freed hair. "Please! I thought you were just a mark! A random noble. I didn't know anything about military operations. I don't even know who you are!"

"A likely story."

"Wait." Chrom gazed into Robin's eyes, continuing to surprise him with his fairness. "I don't think he's lying, Frederick. A Plegian spy would surely know who I am… but he really doesn't."

Robin was genuinely moved. "You're listening to me?"

"Milord!" Frederick snapped. The noble just shook his head.

"You don't have to see the worst in people, Frederick. I think this really is a petty thief who got lucky, heh, or unlucky. He's not an agent. Just another man the occupation government has failed. We'll take him with us to the station for questioning, but I hardly think he's a threat."

Robin wanted to feel relieved, but he wasn't sure he was quite there yet. "Please don't hurt me."

The comment only seemed to sadden the noble. "Is that… what you think of us Ylisseans? That we'd hurt a petty thief in our custody? That's not how I want to be seen. I'm dedicated to protecting the people, and I promise I won't hurt you, stranger. Not so long as you show me the same courtesy." The blue haired noble gave a warm smile. "My name is Chrom. I'm the Prince of the Halidom of Ylisse, and a Peacekeeper for the Grand Convocation of Plegia."

Robin's face went white. "P-prince? I robbed a prince?!"

Chrom only seemed amused. "Heh, you did."

"Oh gods. I… I need to sit down." Chrom and Frederick allowed him to do just that, but the drifter didn't feel the reprieve he wanted. His lightheadedness grew worse, and his breathing became erratic. "The prince. I stole from the prince!"

"Are you okay?!" Chrom quickly knelt by him. "Hey, it's alright! You don't have to be scared of us!"

"No it's… it's not just that. Your name. Chrom. I know that name. I've… I've seen you before."

"Just take deep breaths!"

Robin felt himself passing into a relaxing sleep. Some part of him was aware of how strange it was to be losing consciousness in the middle of the day, but he was already too far gone to want to fight it. He spoke one last time before blacking out. "I've seen you before…"

Tired, raspy breaths echoed between Chrom and Robin as they neared the top of a rise in the desert landscape that surrounded them. From here, the two men had a panoramic view of their destination. An ancient stone temple loomed in the distance. Glancing up, Robin saw an alien sky. The heavens were racked with thunderstorms as lightning constantly arced and danced from one black, billowing cloud to another. The sun was gone, not just because of the storm, but because a pitch black void had anchored itself in the sky. Blood red tendrils of light came down from around this anomaly like some otherworldly version of sunlight peering through a tree canopy. He felt a strange sense of dread at the sight, and he quickly looked back to Chrom.

Chrom was a few years older now. His fair skin was somewhat marred by battlefield scars and the very beginnings of stress induced wrinkles. His attire was more regal than what he had just been wearing, yet it also seemed more warlike. Very little of his skin was visible through ornate silver plate armor, and dents and scrapes in the metal suggested Chrom had come to depend on it many times.

Some small part of Robin still aware that he'd lost consciousness struggled to understand everything going on. If this was a dream, why did it feel so real? Where was he? Why was he with Chrom? Robin found these concerns pushed to the back of his mind as he met Chrom's gaze. The prince looked at him as if they'd known each other all the years he appeared to have aged, and as confused as he was, Robin felt genuinely reassured.

"Are you ready, Robin? You won't have to do this by yourself. Everyone is with you."

The two weren't alone. Looking back, over two dozen men and women trailed after Robin, but he couldn't make them out. Their faces were inexplicably blurred, as if looking through a fogged mirror, and Robin's mind became hazy until he focused on the prince again. "Chrom, I have to ask a favor."

Robin wasn't really in control of what he said. He was but an observer of another instance of himself. "As long as it's not a request to leave you behind."

"No. I considered that, but I think the best chance of overcoming him is if the two of us are fighting together."

"That's more like it." Chrom flashed a smile, but Robin's grim expression remained.

"But therein lies the favor. Chrom… if Validar somehow gains control of me…"

"Robin, don't—"

"I need you to cut me down. Promise me."

"You can't mean that!" Chrom seized his shoulder in worry. "You can't ASK me that!"

"Chrom, I could be a danger to everyone here. To the rest of us! To our wives!"

His grip softened, and Robin could count to five before he spoke again. "You're not a pawn of fate. You don't have to be afraid of your father's control. We can do this, Robin. Together."

Robin's mind blanked as the group moved through the nightmarish scene and progressed into the temple. Robin vaguely perceived ancient treasures and relics, and he could see the other men and women with them engaged in combat, but he couldn't bring himself to focus again until Chrom and him were inside the innermost room. Its mottled stonework shone in the faint, flickering light of torches high above, but Robin's gaze was drawn to an older man kneeling in the center. He somehow knew exactly who he was looking at. This was Validar. The man the two had come to stop.

His father.

"The defeat of the Deadlords and advance of the Shepherds was unfortunate, but this is no time to feel fear. Lord Grima has foreseen our victory here. In truth, this is a moment of triumph. A moment all the Grimleal should savor." Purple energy emanated from Validar, and he wasn't even turned towards the two. Robin realized he was broadcasting his voice into the minds of the Grimleal. He knew this because the voice was trying to tunnel its way into his head as much as he could physically hear it with his ears. "For the ritual will soon be complete, and the Fell Dragon will be resurrected at last. Our path will be clear, and our unworlding will be guaranteed. Nothing, not even Chrom and his Shepherds, can stop it. Stand firm. The moment of salvation is at hand!"

"It shall not last!" Validar turned to see Chrom readying his weapon. The prince drew an ornate golden sword unlike anything Robin was familiar with. Robin himself wielded a blade shaped like a lightning bolt, and he could feel magical energy coursing through it. It was power beyond anything he knew he had. "It's over, Validar."

The dark mage responded with a smug smirk. He was rather unfortunate looking, but it was hard to tell if this was because of age, or if the man's body had been ravaged by his own magic. Even now, as his voice returned to normal, dark magic emanated from his form. His withered skin was a sickly grey, and his eyes burned bright red. His black hair seemed neatly groomed on his head and beard, but the rest of his frazzled hair hung from his sagging skin like the mane of a bedraggled horse. Conversely, the rest of him was denuded. He looked almost necrotic. He was clad in dark purple robes. Perhaps he wore them because of whatever role he had here in the temple, but the elaborate nature of his attire didn't suggest humility on his part. "Ah, Chrom. Come to witness the glorious culmination of your failure? How nice. I have the Fire Emblem, and the Dragon's Table is set for a feast. I will return Grima to this world!" Validar's eyes fell to Robin. "I see you've brought my son. You never learn, do you?"

"Robin doesn't belong to you!"

"No. He doesn't belong to me. He belongs to our lord."

Robin prepared his blade. "I'll die before I help you."

"We are instruments of divine will, Robin. The two of us, we're cut from a different stripe. We don't have to dream about bettering the world. We actually can. Grima will lead us to freedom from mortal strife!"

"I'm not listening to you!"

Validar continued on, his smugness radiating as intensely as the dark magic from his body. "I speak of a being infinitely our greater! I am an arm of God, and so are you, Robin! Look at Chrom. He may call himself Exalted and justify his reign through the trickle of draconic blood in his veins, but he is little more than a beast. A mouth breathing alpha leading his herd from one pointless engagement to the next. Look at him. Nostrils flaring. His fingers white from clutching his sword. Thinking of what, I wonder? His wife? His daughters? Pathetic. Atavistic. He cannot stop Grima any more than an ant can stop the boot. Robin, you're not one of them. Grima will provide a power beyond imagining!"

"Do you really think I'll abandon Chrom?!"

"You've made your choice, Robin, but that's what I've long since come to realize. Choice doesn't matter. I just want you to understand Grima's ancient strategy, tactician. You are at the cusp of your destiny, and if necessary, you will be dragged kicking and screaming into it."

"To hell with destiny!" Chrom snapped. "Anything can change!"

"Oh, here it comes. Come on, let's hear it. The usual speech on honor and freedom. You heroes do so love to monologue before attacking."

"Speech this!" Chrom threw himself forward to strike Validar. Though Robin couldn't help but think him fragile, he proved otherwise as a blast of dark magic thundered forward and sent Chrom back to where he was. Chrom managed to resist most of the blast, but he still had to steady himself on his sword to rise.

"Very well, Ylisseans. Then let our thousand year war continue… and let it end here."

Chrom nodded to Robin. "Come on. Together this time."

"Right. T-Together!" Robin's head became foggy again, and his vision and hearing began to warp. "I… Chrom… something's wrong. Something's happening to me!" Looking up, Robin saw the prince had already engaged Validar again.

But he couldn't bring himself to follow.

"Chrom, we have to do SOMETHING."

"What do you propose we do?"

"I… I dunno."

"Agh!" Robin's body reflexively recoiled as he awoke, remembering the vision he'd just endured, but he was perfectly fine. He glanced up to see Chrom and a woman standing over him. The prince smiled and held out his hand.

"I see you're awake now. There're better places to take a nap than on the ground, you know." Robin took his hand, and Chrom helped him to his feet. Robin expected to be at least a little groggy, but he was strangely invigorated like he'd just woken up from a power nap. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Yeah, thank you. I feel great, actually, even though I just had the worst dream."

"Well, you can thank my sister for that."

"Huh?" Robin got a good look at his visitor. She was a sprightly young woman, definitely a few years younger than Chrom, in a yellow and white dress that complimented soft blonde hair done up in exaggerated chin length pigtails. Between that and the decorations in her hair, it was tempting to think of her as a prim and proper noble, but her appearance didn't quite match the stereotype. She had clearly been out and about in her dress rather frequently, as the cloth gave way to expose the metal frame underneath it at several points. She'd done this intentionally, perhaps to give her legs more freedom of movement. Robin also noticed a leather corset like piece of apparel over her dress that seemed to be there for a small degree of protection as much as it was there by the rules of fashion, and her leather boots looked worn enough. His eyes also locked onto the healing stave clutched in her hands. "You helped me?"

"Yep!" She chirped. "You weren't just asleep, friend. Your whole body had shut down when Chrom brought you to me, but it was nothing a healing stave couldn't fix. Daddy doesn't call me the best healer in occupied Plegia for nothing! That's why I'm a chief medical officer."

"Chief whatnow? Are you a prominent healer?"

She closed her eyes and angled her thumbs towards herself. "I'm the prominent healer. I may not fight like my brother, especially since daddy doesn't want me to, but when people get hurt, I'm the one who stitches their bones back together."

"But you're so young."

"I'm that good. Of course, being the princess probably helps."

"Princess?"

The woman eyed him curiously. "Yeah? You haven't heard of me as princess? I'm kind of a big deal! I mean, I could get Falchion someday… not that I really want it. My name is Lissa, and my father is the Exalt."

"Exalt? Falchion?"

"Oh right. Chrom told me you were a little out of it. I've heard of this before. It's called… um…" Lissa snapped her fingers trying to remember. "Oh yeah! Amnesia."

"It's called a load of Pegasus dung." Robin tensed up as he turned to see the more unfriendly of his new companions, arms crossed. "You won't be getting rid of me that easily."

"Right." Robin looked back to Chrom, eager to change the subject. "If she's your sister, then you must be a prince?"

"Heh, that's right. I'm sure I told you that."

The drifter furrowed his brow. "I'm sorry. It's hard to remember things. You're… Chrom, right?"

"That's correct."

"He's Fredericson?"

"Frederick." The knight gave him a harsh stare, and Robin awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck.

"I know this is going to sound strange, but I… I can't form new memories very easily. Whatever you've told me before, I may have already forgotten some of it." Robin winced as his mind drew blanks. This was how he knew he'd been normal once. How he was sure this amnesia was new. His mind seemed to deaden and shut down whenever he tried to recall something he'd forgotten, but he could tell something had been there. It wasn't the same as not ever knowing. It was like his memories were corroded, worn out gears, and his brain was a mechanical clock that didn't function properly because it kept skipping over them. Robin thought back to his nightmare and audibly groaned in frustration as he realized he was already forgetting it. He probably wouldn't remember he ever had it by tomorrow. Something about a dragon that fell? His father had been there? How did he even know his father… or was it his uncle? Brother?

But looking back to the prince's kind face, Robin's mind felt at ease. He remembered Chrom clear as day. No, he couldn't remember what he was doing in the nightmare. That was already gone. He had already forgotten having stolen from him earlier, though he knew that's how they'd met. What he did remember was his smile. His voice. It was like he was supposed to be by his side now. "So how do you guys know me? Did I… I didn't try to steal from you, did I?"

Chrom and Frederick exchanged glances. "Whatever happened to you when you passed out, I guess it really took a toll." Chrom held up the documents. "You tried to take these from me? Any of this ring a bell?"

"I stole from a prince?! Gods, y-you're not going to hurt me, right?!"

"We… we've done this already."

"Really? This… exact conversation?"

Frederick scoffed. "Someone pay this actor. His performance is excellent, even if the script is suspect."

"Frederick, please. I don't think he's lying."

"Milord!"

"A thief who could take these right from under me can't be that stupid. There's no way he'd expect this to work if he were just lying to get out of trouble." Chrom glanced back to Robin as he continued. "And make no mistake, this doesn't change what he did. We are taking him back as a prisoner. We have to make sure he's no threat to Ylisse."

Robin shifted uncomfortably. "I… see…"

"But I do think he's telling the truth about not being able to remember. Look at him. He seems genuinely lost, and what kind of Peacekeepers would we be if we didn't help him? We have to take him in for questioning, sure, but we can also try to understand his condition. How about you, Lissa? What do you think?"

Robin turned to see Lissa was rather fascinated by him. She certainly didn't share Frederick's wariness. "Hmm. A genuine case of amnesia, huh? Now is it retrograde or anterograde?"

"What now?!"

"Sorry. I mean what can't you remember? You said you don't form new memories easily. Can you remember things from your past?"

Robin shook his head dejectedly. "No. I don't know where I am. I don't know who I am. I have skills. Instinct. I don't have any memories."

"Can you remember anything? What about your name?"

Chrom nodded. "Come to think of it, we never got your name, stranger."

"It's… Robin." Had Chrom asked that when they first met, he would have gotten nothing. The only reason that name came to him now was because of the nightmare. He'd already forgotten most of it, traumatic as he remembered it being, but the moments with Chrom were still burned into his mind. Robin came to him only because Chrom had called him that. Was that even his real name? Was it something being bestowed upon him now? It could have been forced on him by some unseen entity for all he knew, but it was better than not having any name. "My name is Robin."

"Strange name. Is that Plegian?"

"He speaks with a Plegian brogue." Frederick dragged out his words. His tone was arched. Provocative. "His cloak has the six eyes of Grima, a design common to Plegian dark mages. I'm sure he has a connection to the Theocracy."

"You're not sure, Frederick." Chrom countered. "You're only suspecting."

"Plegian? Theocracy?" Robin asked. "Are you the royal family of Plegia?"

"Heh, no. We're from the Halidom of Ylisse. Plegia and Ylisse are countries. You really don't know any of this?"

"I'm sorry."

Chrom became more serious. "What about the Grimleal? Have you heard of them?"

"No. Are they friends of yours?"

"In the sense that the Divine Dragons and Earth Dragons of old were friends."

"... What?"

Robin hadn't realized how increasingly frustrated Frederick was becoming, and he finally snapped. "Quit playing dumb, you damned Grimmie!" Robin had been let out of his handcuffs while unconscious, but Frederick wasted no time in stepping forward and seizing Robin's right arm in his gauntlet.

"Gah?! What? What?!"

Frederick shoved Robin's hand in his face, and his mind just now registered that he'd been stripped of his gloves. His curious birthmark was there for all to see. Of course, it was just that to Robin, but the symbol had a darker meaning to his three companions. "We saw the mark. This is the symbol of the Grimleal! You really think we'll believe you have no connection to them when you have this right there?!"

"Frederick!" Lissa cried in alarm. "Remember what we agreed on?"

"I agree with Lissa." Chrom spoke up as he stepped forward. "We've heard of Grimleal dark mages experimenting on people. This doesn't prove he's with the Grimleal. Maybe they did something to him. Maybe that's the source of his amnesia."

Frederick slowly let Robin go, and he quickly scurried back. "Are we good?!"

"That symbol stands for everything we fight against." Frederick shot. His voice was dry. "I have every wish to believe you're completely innocent of everything despite the evidence to the contrary, but my station mandates otherwise. I think milord is being too trusting with you. I don't want to let a wolf into our flock."

"Oh, don't mind Frederick the Wary." Lissa chimed in.

"A title I shall wear with pride."

"Ah, he's so predictable. Want to see my Frederick impression? *clears throat* 'My name's Frederick. Oh, how I love rules. Drink your tea with your pinkies extended, Lissa. Don't practice past curfew, Sully. Don't eat while you're on watch, Stahl. Rules, rules, rules. Gods I love rules!'"

Chrom snickered before he could catch himself. Frederick gave an expression that screamed "not in front of the prisoner", though he would never say that. "Such biting wit milady is possessed of."

"You've every right to distrust me." Robin said to him, trying to further diffuse the situation. "I'll cooperate fully with you. Still, I don't understand the concern. What's wrong with my hand? What is the Grimleal?"

"A complicated question, Robin. The ancient legends suggest they're a cult that worships a being named Grima. The attacks on our settlements and Peacekeepers suggest they're a resistance organization dedicated to opposing Ylissean rule over occupied Plegia. It depends on whether or not you believe the legends."

"So Ylisse and Plegia are hostile to each other, and the Grimleal is connected to Plegia?"

"Ylisse and Plegia are at peace now, but there are tensions between our two countries. It all goes back to my father's war."

"War?"

"The crusade? Surely you've heard of that. You must have been alive then."

"Crusade?"

"... We have a lot to talk about." Chrom got close to Robin, but the drifter didn't fear him. Chrom's presence was oddly soothing. "We're taking you in for questioning, but I promise we won't hurt you. So long as you don't try to leave, we won't restrain you, and I'll try to answer any questions you have. We can have your amnesia looked at once we get to the city of Careston. In the meantime, there's a small settlement nearby. We can stop there for some food and rest. Does that sound good to you?"

"You… you would do all that for me? After what I did to you?"

"We're Peacekeepers. It's our job to shepherd the people, and I won't ignore a lost soul who needs my help. Just treat us with respect, Robin, and we'll do the same to you."

Lissa approached him. "I saved your life today, Robin. What you do with it is up to you. As soon as Chrom lets you go, why don't you go down to the Citadel in Careston and see if they can help out with your amnesia. If they can, I'm sure we can match you up with a job. Tell them Lissa sent you. A handsome guy like you should find a nice woman to keep him company, and stay away from those Grimmies! Oh, and uh, try not to show that mark to people."

"Alright."

"There's something about you, Robin. You're special. I can tell. You have an important destiny ahead of you. Now go out there and prove me right! You know… after we take you in."

The drifter's lips curled into a heartfelt smile. "T-Thank you, Chrom. Thank you, Lissa. This is so much more than I could ever expect."

Everything just felt right to Robin. He almost didn't care that he was under arrest. It was like he was meant to be with Chrom and the others now. "I couldn't ask any more of you."

Robin smiled at the prince and princess, though judging by his eye twitching, the sight didn't sit well with Frederick. "Milord…"

Honor Thy Father is a loose adaptation/retelling of Awakening's main story. The premise primarily centers around Chrom's father still reigning as Exalt, producing a sometimes very different world for Robin to be drawn into. The first few chapters are a little like a novelization, but there will be a few differences to keep the story fresh. For example, Robin's premonition is something he experiences in full after spending more time with Chrom, and his amensia initially affects new memories too. The plot will take a more unique path as the story goes on.

I also hope to heavily expand on characters largely glossed over by Awakening. The story will also explore the views of both the Exalt and Princess Emmeryn, and Gangrel and his future officers are given extensive characterization and backstory.

Thanks for reading, and please let me know if you want to see more of this.