I just wanted to state right away: I am not a great author. Maybe I am even terrible. But I simply love these characters and hate the idea
that there will be no more stories told about them, so I decided to sit down and write something myself. I hope you enjoy.
His knees were weak from the impact of his opponents axe. Struggling to keep his balance, he anxiously observed the plegian soldier before him. The down pour, which hadn't let up since their arrival at the Midmire, had drenched his hair causing it to drape into his face and obscure his vision. One wrong move at this moment could easily cost him his life.
On any other day he wouldn't have gotten himself into this situation to begin with. He would have had a fool proof plan on how to keep injuries and casualties to a minimum, while striking with the least amount of resources and energy exhausted.
Not on this day however. There had been no time to so much as catch his breath in the last twenty four hours. The Exalt was dead. She had sacrificed herself in hopes of achieving the peace she so strongly believed in. Chrom and the rest of the Shepherds had to flee in the immediate aftermath, powerless to deliver justice of any kind to the mad king Gangrel. They were even robbed of the right to take Emmeryns body with them and provide her with a proper burial.
The idea of such a kind, peace loving woman being held captive by Plegia, even in death, sickened Robin to his core.
Lost in his thoughts he almost failed to notice the sharp edge of a hand axe coming down on him. Taken by surprise he ducked under it and struck his opponent through the opening he had created. With a heavy thud, the plegian mercenary's lifeless body hit the ground.
Robin took a few steps back and for the first time in a long time, took a good look around himself. He had gotten separated from the rest of the group it seemed. The sound of clashing steel echoed across the hills surrounding him. Following them were blood curdling screams of dying men and women giving their life for the causes they believed in.
The young tactician tried to collect himself and device a plan he could relay to Chrom, but Robin had to find him first. He ran across the muddy field, his eyes scanning the horizon while constantly having to ensure his feet weren't going to give out under him. It didn't take him too long to spot the mighty Falchion shimmering even in the darkest hour as it cut down Ylisses enemies.
Mentally and physically exhausted, Robin made his second mistake this battle. Having directed all his focus to Chrom fighting a battle alongside Frederick only a few yards away, Robin had failed to notice the silent but swift Wyvern rider rushing him from his flank. With a loud roar the Wyvern appeared in Robin's peripheral vision far too late for him to react to the incoming attack. Instinctively he held up his hands to shield his face, his body having taken over after realizing there was no way out.
To his surprise, the impact he was expecting never came. Instead a loud explosion shook his body. The fires heat engulfed him, yet didn't burn through his clothes and skin. The question why he wasn't dead repeated in his mind over and over, as he lowered his guard and allowed himself to see.
The Wyvern and its rider were on the ground before him. Both of their bodies were charred and the face of the rider was unrecognizable.
Magic, he thought. Someone had used a fire tome to blow the two out of the air at the last second. Eager to spot his savior, Robin spun around and was genuinely surprised. A few feet away from him, having a terrible time catching her breath, was the plegian dark mage they had recruited yesterday during their attempt to save the exalt. Judging by her stance, the sweat glistening on her forehead and the aforementioned difficulties breathing, she must have ran as quickly as she could to perform her spell at the maximum possible distance. Taken aback by her willingness to go to such lengths to protect a stranger from her own people, he simply stared at her for a few seconds too long, before putting a weak smile on his lips and nodding towards her.
Surprisingly, she seemed to ignore him or at least take no note of Robin. Not wanting to get caught up in idle thoughts, especially at this moment, he joined Chroms side.
"Robin! That was way too close my friend." the prince spoke. Even at such a low point of his life, with clear despair written all across his face, Chrom put the well being of his friends before his own.
"I am sorry I haven't been able to assist you and our troops so far," Robin replied. "I got separated when their initial assault began."
Chrom simply nodded, a sign of understanding with no hint of criticism on his features. Robin silently thanked him for not blaming him for any further loss, as he had, in the tacticians eyes, every right to.
He had failed them all. It was his fault the exalt was dead, and more of their group would be injured or fall in this battle. All because his strategies were worthless. He watched as the two knights that had taken him in fought of one assailant after the other with relative ease, despite their evident fatigue.
Robin snapped out of self hatred long enough to sling a spell towards a soldier who went for a strike against Chroms unguarded flank. The prince looked back at Robin and gave him a thankful smile. With the sounds of combat slowly dying down, the battle came to its end.
A few hours after the battle at the Midmire, Robin was sunken deep in his thoughts inside his tent. Laid out in front of him was the map of the continent and all sorts of tools he used to prepare the Shepherds next move. However his mind was crawling with doubtful thoughts. He kept replaying the last two battles they've been through in his head, trying to find a way he could have prevented all of it. Each time he failed to find a perfect solution, he blamed his lack of skill and wisdom and loathed himself more.
In a moment of despair he threw all of his scrolls and maps off of the table and got up off his seat. He paced back and forth while rubbing his temples. He felt responsible for everyone in this camp. Every last fighter that had joined their cause was relying on his decisions to survive another day of war. Chrom had trusted him with the life of his sister, the exalt of Ylisse, the shining ray of hope for her people. Robin had failed them all.
"Please stop, my friend."
Robin spun around to find himself face to face with the very prince he just thought about.
Chroms face didn't attempt to hide his concern as he put his hand on the tacticians shoulder.
"I see you struggling with what has transpired and it hurts to witness," Chrom said, his weary eyes showing absolute sincerity. "You are not to blame for what happened. Do not shoulder this burden when it is all of ours to bear."
Robin hung his head in disbelieve.
"How can you say that?" he asked. "I've failed you and your country."
"Emmeryn would disagree," Chrom responded.
They stood together silently, supporting each other by refusing to back down from the anguished they felt as the words left Chroms lips.
Robin simply nodded and in return received a light pat on his shoulder. With nothing meaningful left to say Chrom turned and left his friends tent.
The next morning Robin awoke early and made his rounds through the camp ground, checking on each of their members and taking stock of what they had left in terms of weapons and armor. He needed all the information he could get in order to plan their next move.
He watched as Ricken and Nowi ran across camp, possibly chasing each other, carefree as ever. He envied them in a sense, but also knew how important it was that he couldn't get distracted by the simple pleasures in life. Avoiding the gaze of any of his comrades, lest they were to engage in a conversation with him on his patrol, he failed to notice the figure in front of him. He stopped just short of bumping into her and his face immediately flushed with embarrassment.
"I apologize! Evidently I wasn't looking where I was going," he began. His apology was cut short when he looked at the person before him, and recognized his savior from their last battle.
"It's okay," the gloomy mage almost whispered past the bangs hiding her eyes.
Robin gulped at what he could only assume was intense disdain. He seemed to have left a horrible first impression. Despite this, he knew exactly what he had to say next.
"I wanted to thank you," Robin began, having reclaimed his calm demeanor. "You saved me at Midmire and I am grateful."
He couldn't quite make out an expression with half her face being concealed by black hair, but he was relieved when a small smile spread across her lips.
"You're welcome," the girl responded, clutching her tome close to her chest.
Was she just shy? Robin wondered. She had only joined them very recently and had betrayed the very country Chrom was waging war against, so it could be that she simply felt like an outcast. That wouldn't do.
"I am sorry, I haven't really gotten the chance to learn anything about you, considering how and when you joined," Robin spoke honestly. "May I ask your name?"
Upon hearing his words, the girl seemed to tense up, and her stance became more defensive. That was the last thing Robin wanted to achieve.
"You don't have to if you don't want to," he continued. "I totally understand."
"That's not it!" she quickly responded, apparently to her own displeasure. "I... my name is Tharja."
Relieved, Robin allowed himself to relax a bit more, in the hopes of allowing her to do the same. It would be terrible if one of their allies wasn't comfortable with their own tactician.
"I am happy to make your acquaintance Tharja," Robin said in his friendliest tone. "I am-"
"Robin, I know." she swiftly cut him off, squirming under his gaze.
Taken aback for a second, he quickly figured that Chrom had probably made her aware of him during her recruitment. More than a bit embarrassed he tried to keep his cool.
"Oh, yeah. I guess you would know," he said a little bit bashful. He had no idea where to take this conversation next and the way Tharja constantly shifted her weight from one foot to the other, looking as if she was ready to run away, he doubted she would help him come up with a new topic.
"I have to finish up my rounds of the camp," he eventually stated.
"I see..." came the timid response. "I didn't mean to distract you."
"No you didn't," Robin assured. "It was really, uh, nice talking to you!"
With that he put on his best smile and began walking past her towards the edge of the camp grounds. He hadn't lied to her, he felt it was good and important for him to talk to and have a decent relationship with each member of the Shepherds. Still, something about her felt a little off and she made what should have been a small exchange of niceties more awkward than it needed to be.
"Tharja," he quietly whispered to himself. "What an interesting name."
Tharja pressed herself as flat as she could against the tree in front of her. It took little effort to silence her breathing as to not give herself away. When she was certain there was no risk of being spotted, she peeked past the tree and watched Robin as he reached the end of camp. Back here, where no one ever came except for some alone time or sparring sessions, she was at no risk to be found watching Robin from a comfortable distance.
This wasn't the first time she had done this either. Ever since she had joined Chrom and his party, for some reason she couldn't fully explain, she felt the need to watch him every moment of her life.
It was also only thanks to this strange desire, that she had been there in time to save him that time. She cursed herself when she had lost him in the fight that had ensued. The thought of finding his corpse along side dozen more made her want to throw up. When Tharja spotted him, unaware of the imminent threat coming his way, her heart and mind began to race. She felt honest panic and her actions became guided more by instinct than thought. She had never found any value in another persons life, so why was he suddenly causing these reactions in her?
Tharja also wasn't necessarily the stalking kind until she had joined his company, but he seemed to be her first for everything.
She quickly retreated back into her hiding spot when Robin prepared to return to the camp. Unbeknownst to him, he was mere inches away from her as he passed by the tree she was using as cover. Tharja had to resist the urge to grab him by his arm and pull him close to her.
Once more she found herself perplexed by her own thoughts. This was so very unlike her. She usually shunned peoples company and yet all she wanted was to be near him.
Suddenly, one horrible word completely filled her mind. A word that caused her to break out into panic. She sat down on the moss covered grass surrounding the tree, wrapped her arms around her legs and placed her chin on her knees.
She felt disgust rising within her. This couldn't be. What powerful magic had he performed to make her feel this way? She was fine on her own, that's how she wanted it to be. And yet, it was quite clear now what had driven her to fixate on him the second she joined the princes army.
The most horrible and vile thing she could imagine: Love.