Hey guys, it's meeeee, Cookie~! Still not dead, fortunately. But here I'm trying my hand at a new type of genre, and I still don't have much time on me. Don't rush me, please! XS It's really corny I think but leave your feedback, this type of story really isn't my piece of cake. If you don't like reading, well there's a lot of stuff here, so don't. This story will be uploaded in 2-3 chapters maybe. Most likely 2. Dunno, don't judge! XD Ok, see you guys!

"Robin… I… I have something to tell you."

I can't muster the courage to look him in the eye. After I think about it, I feel myself as what I am. I have no memory of anything before my meeting with him and his younger sister. My clothes, I simply woke up with. I don't understand their origin completely. He is a prince, the Prince of Ylisse, and I am an amnesiac with a foreign mark on my wrist.

"Robin… I…"

And yet I still can't look him in the eye. There are many more maidens that want to stand by his side, those who are trustworthy and known. I am the unknown, the number you just can't figure out. The y in algebra and the outlier in a sum…

I think of Frederick. He is right to question my authority as a trusted tactician. For all I know, I could've been an assassin before I lost my memory. It's true that I have helped these people throughout both thick and thin, but, should my memories return, I could simply turn on them at any moment. I deem myself suspicious.

I think of Lissa and her questions. She is right to want to know who I am, what I was, how I learnt the skills I have. But the thing is, I don't know. Where did I learn the ways of tomes? Where did I learn my way with a sword? But there is also the question of how and why. The questions that you just don't understand. From this, I calculate my self-esteem. It isn't high.

And then I think of Sumia. She consults me, tells me I'm a good person and that I wouldn't become traitorous should my memories return, if they were bad. She says I have a strong bond with everyone in the Shepherds, and that she believes in me thoroughly. From this, she tells me she doesn't pick her words from daisies. This only makes me believe of how perfect she is for Chrom.

That day when Emmeryn plummeted to her death fell like crashing thunder, and destroyed like raging fire. My plans fell away with everything else I had, mostly the trust in my own instincts and purpose. We fled to Regna Ferox, hoping to reinvigorate the lost happiness in our ranks. I locked myself away in the Ferox Library, where all I thought and saw were tactic and strategy. They were the only thing I felt I could rely on, and only seconds later would I almost break down as I think of my failure for Emmeryn.

This made me want to try harder, even with the doubt like a weight on my heart.

I needed to pull myself further even with that weight, to make sure nobody else suffered by me.

"Robin?"

I wake up from the small nap I was having, not that I had the liberty to sleep. I was wide awake actually, my mind filled with everything I needed to complete. I didn't reply to the voice of the prince, for I felt too weak to answer.

How much time has passed?

At least two weeks, I'd say.

"So this is where you have been all this time." I can hear his footsteps as he approaches. "Not a soul from you, some of us even found Kellam in your absence. You just disappeared off the face of the earth for so much time…"

It hasn't been that long. Has it?

His hand meets the desk next to my ear, not furiously or in any kind of negativity, but loud and stressed enough to make me almost flinch.

Almost.

"Robin… this is what you've locked yourself in here for? Battle strategies and war plans…" His voice falls to a whisper at the end, barely so that I can make out his words.

I don't know if he realised he said this aloud but he did…

"But… this is more than a month's worth of work…"

There was slight lift on the desk, as Chrom removed his hand from it.

"Robin."

I don't give him a reply. I'm too tired. That just proves my 'loyalty'.

"Robin."

Nope.

"Robin, speak to me. That is an order."

I shuffle slightly, so I can see him with one eye. His face shows only concern, and I suddenly feel extremely weary.

"How long have you been sitting in that chair for?" He demanded.

"… A… long time?" I reply meekly, though my voice is muffled through my sleeves.

"How have you been keeping yourself alive?" He muttered, after a long pause.

I just assumed it was a rhetorical question.

"You need to rest and recuperate. Naga knows how long you've kept yourself here for. Your hair is a mess, for gods' sakes." He offered me his hand.

I blink flatly at him. I couldn't care less about myself, give or take my image, so I don't see why he cared in the end. I can only imagine the fuzz of my hair now though.

"Robin," He repeats sternly.

"Fine. I'm perfectly capable of myself though." I grumbled, heaving myself to my feet and ignoring Chrom's offer of support.

It was probably better this way. If I was cold, hopefully he would forget about me. That'd make me feel better about myself anyway. (Is that selfish?) I snatch up my hard work and semi-stumble out the door that Chrom had left open. I can feel him staring at me through the back of my head, and I can sense the confusion ringing in his mind.