The sunlight nearly blinded him as he looked ahead, his heart beating out of his ribs. A scream resonated in the air as a man fell to his knees, red staining his side. Blue eyes remained fixated on the commotion, unable to believe his eyes. He didn't dare look away for a single instant, fearing that the moment he did, the figure ahead of him would disappear again. All signs pointed to the impossible. There was no way that what he was seeing was real. He was deep in the heart of Valm, not in his memories. The sun here was too bright, but he simply strained against it. The person ahead of him had disappeared in clouds of purple smoke and silver gleams, lifting to the sky and fading away. There was no way that they could be here now, engaged in combat.
But there they were.
The group of berserkers let out a cry as the cloaked figure spun around, dipping towards the ground. Their axes rose as they planned an attack, but they were too slow to expect their next move. The navy blue twisted around the nearest man as they spun around under his arm, turning themselves to face his back. With a quick lift of the arm, a twisted, crimson blade was exposed. The Wyrmslayer gleamed in the light before it was thrust in the back of the man and torn away, leaving him to crumble to his knees. Brown eyes flickered in the sunlight as they turned their attention back to the remaining group. The men seemed to cower for a moment before rushing ahead, trying to appear brave in an attempt to startle the opponent. The grandmaster simply let out a chuckle and dashed ahead to meet them head-on. They were not afraid. They never were afraid of anything.
The onlooker stepped ahead cautiously, unaware of the best course of action. All of his being wanted to run ahead and embrace the lone fighter, to pull them away from the danger and keep them close. He had missed them so much. It had been over a year since they had broken their promise and attacked Grima on the back of that foul dragon. They had not only broken a promise, but they had made others promise to hold him and their children back, preventing them from stopping this suicidal move. They had been helpless as the crimson Wyrmsblood, that special Wyrmslayer, had sheathed itself in the gut of the dragon's host. A mirror version of the blade had found a place in their own stomach as the reflection had cursed their name. They had won, but it was never a win in his mind.
He had failed his wife. He wasn't strong enough to save her.
Another man fell to his knees as the Wyrmsblood flashed in the sun. The darkness of the cloak lifted as the hood fell from their face, exposing brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. The audience of one felt his heart twist as a grin appeared on the woman's face. She fought as if not a day had passed. She still held that fire in her eyes and her arrogant grin on her face. The brunette wasted no time in finishing off the last of the beserkers, ignoring his panicked sounds as he tried to run away. The woman then stood tall in the mess of fallen enemies, her eyes never leaving her blade.
There was no doubt in his mind; the woman ahead of him was none other than Robin, his beloved wife, partner and grandmaster. There was no mistaking the gleam in her eyes or the vicious dance she performed in every battle. This was not a dream. He was really in the middle of Valm and staring straight at the woman he loved. His search for the Wolf of Blood was finally over.
Chrom felt himself smile as he walked ahead, the sun burning the back of his neck. He couldn't speak. Instead, he walked out towards the main road and smiled at Robin. He felt like he couldn't breathe. His heart was still racing, his mind was swirling with confusion and pleasure. Naga's promise, despite all others, remained unbroken. Their bonds had been stronger than even death. The brunette warrior was back in his world. He reached out just as he found his feet stop a few feet away from her. Before he could stop himself, a laugh bubbled up from the back of his throat.
To his surprise, Robin jolted at the sound. The woman spun around with her sword at the ready, her eyes wild with fear and determination. Chrom just smiled at her tight stance as he lowered his hand and took in as much as he could. Her cloak was still in perfect shape, enchanted by some unknown force. Her hair had grown a bit in their time apart, the tip of her ponytail brushing the space between her shoulderblades. Her eyes were once again bright and sharp, containing a strange mix of orange and brown. She was just as he remembered. The Exalt gave her a beaming grin before spreading his arms wide, expecting her to drop the weapon any second now and embrace him just as she always had—just as he dreamed she would.
"Robin," he choked through happy tears, "You came back." The woman's eyes grew wide with surprise as her stance faltered, shivering as she stared at the great lord ahead of her. Her legs seemed to shake before she forced herself to stand tall. Her sword bounced in front of her, swaying with a faltering assurance. The brunette swallowed hard before sharpening her gaze and remaining strong. To his surprise, she did not rush to greet him. Robin did not smile at him as she always did. Instead her eyes narrowed as she took a menacing step forwards and snarled at him.
"Get back! I don't know how you know my name, but I will cut you to ribbons if you so much as take another step."
Chrom felt his heart stop as he found fear and menace gleaming in her eyes. Her brown orbs were filled with not only confusion, but a distinct lack of warmth. He found his arms falling as he found that she did not hold any sort of familiarity in her gaze. Instead, she was closed-off and tight. He felt fear surface in his mind as he took a step forward against her words, ignoring the way that she shouted at him to get back, get back, get away from her before she was forced to attack him.
"Robin, it's me." His voice was shaking as he weakly offered her a hand, unable to comprehend this sudden change of events. This was not the reunion that he had dreamed of. Instead, it was some sort of nightmare. How could his own wife speak to him like this? Where was that bright grin and arrogant laugh? "Robin, it's me, Chrom." His blue eyes began to sting as he watched her tighten the grip on her hilt. "It's Chrom, your husband. Why are you—" His pleas were interrupted by her sudden snapping.
"Husband?!" She lowered herself into a position he knew all to well, the lowered shoulders and crouch of her charge. "I have no husband!" Her eyes suddenly widened as she seemed to recall something, her eyes blurring with thought. Robin then sharpened her glare and barked at the royal, ignoring the pain in his eyes. "You," she snarled. Chrom could only watch as she took a slow step towards him, her brown orbs filled with a sudden hatred. "You must be the man that paid those slavers to capture me!" Horror slipped in Chrom's veins as she shifted her vision to the men resting face-down in the painted grass and dirt. "Well," she chuckled bitterly, "I'd hate to tell you that your investment was a waste. You see, no one can ever capture the Wolf of Blood." Her lips split into a sick grin as she then pulled her foot back and leaped ahead, charging straight for the blue-haired man.
Chrom only had a second to think. Before the sullied tip of her sword could make contact with his face, he turned away from her attack and struggled back. His dominate hand instinctively reached for his Exalted Falchion, but he stopped it just inches from the sheath. This was his wife. Attacking or not, how could he ever raise a weapon against her? His fear swirled in his mind as he sharply dodged another swing of her blade, just missing getting a haircut from the Wrymslayer.
"What's wrong, coward," Robin spat. Chrom turned to find her eyes wild with the adrenaline of battle and the prospect of victory. He never thought that he would be on the other end of her battle-lust. With a sharp duck and another shuffle, he was a few feet away from her weapon. A growl of frustration gushed out of her pink lips before she ran at him, her head lowered as to twirl around him and strike him from behind. "Are you too much of a gentleman to fight a woman?! You should have thought of that before you tried to send your men after me!"
The Exalt made a spin of his own, twirling away from her as she spun around him. Another growl and she was facing him with shaking shoulders, struggling for breath. "I don't want to fight you, Robin." His voice was cracking with sorrow as he watched the foreign look in her eyes turn to anger. "I don't understand why you're acting like this, but I refuse to hurt you. I will not raise my sword against the woman I—"
"Quiet, you dolt!" Robin was seething mad at this point, her bloodlust unfulfilled. He could tell her confusion at his dodging was growing; she was undefeated in the Shepherds and certainly the same carried over now. "I'm not listening to your pathetic lies! Go find someone else to steal!" She then ran ahead, trying to hit him over the head with her weapon.
Instead of getting out of the way, Chrom lowered himself to brace against it, his hands jumping up to grab her own. Skin collided as he grabbed her hands and held her weapon back, keeping her from cutting his head with her bloodstained sword. The Wolf of Blood looked down to find the Exalt of Ylisse cringing and holding her back with his bare hands. Her eyes widened with both fear and overwhelming fury as his metal boots dug into the dirt.
"Robin," Chrom gasped. His breath was hot with strain as he looked her in the eyes, searching for something of the woman he had lost on the back of the fell dragon. "I'm not going to hurt you." The orange in her eyes seemed to bleed out into the soothing brown as she struggled against his hold, her hands shaking as they tried to lower the weapon just a few inches more and strike him down. "I know that you must be confused but please, listen to me. It's me, Chrom! I would never hurt you, or try to send men after you! You're my wife! I would never want you to get hurt!"
"Silence, you insufferable rat!" Her eyes seemed to linger on the mark on his exposed arm before glaring him in the eye. "You're not going to trick me! I am the Wolf of Blood! I have Feroxi blood in my veins, and I'm going to show you just how I got my name!"
She didn't get the chance.
Before she could squirm out of the royal's grip, a gleam of silver caught Chrom's eye, the color heading straight for the aggressive young woman. The blue-haired man opened his mouth to warn the brunette, but he was too late. The blunt end of a lance slammed into her skull, dulling her eyes and causing her grip to weaken. The man let out a yell as she fell to the ground, taking her sword with her. Chrom just managed to catch her in his arms before her head hit the grass. Enraged, the Exalt looked up to find a familiar great knight standing tall, shame hidden in his black eyes.
"I'm sorry, milord. I tried to hold back, but I could not stand idly by and let her hurt you." Frederick looked down at the grandmaster in his brother-in-law's arms and gave the unconscious woman a pained look. "Something must have happened to her while we were searching for her. There's no other explanation as to how she could have possibly forgotten you—"
"Robin!" Chrom ignored his knight. Instead, he lifted the brunette higher in his grasp and gave her a light shake. His eyes were wild with grief as the events that had happened under the rush of blood in his ears clicked. "Robin, please! Wake up!" He didn't care that she had tried to cut him down only seconds ago. He had finally found his wife but suddenly everything was falling apart.
She was supposed to rush to greet him and smile at him as she once had. He was supposed to hold her close and never let go, feeling her arms around him and embracing her as he finally felt that horrible hole in his chest disappear. Naga had promised them that they would reunite after the horrible death of Grima. They were supposed to be a family together. He was supposed to take her back to their five-year-old daughter Lucina and finally see her eyes light up as the word mother left her lips and she rushed to greet the woman who had brought her into this world. Their elder children Morgan and Lucina were supposed to be there with them, completing their family of five.
Why was everything falling apart at his feet? Was he truly so weak? Was he cursed? How could the gods be so cruel to him, after everything they had been through?!
The tears in his blue eyes blurred everything as the others rushed towards him. His sister started shouting out for him to listen, but he couldn't. It was if his whole body had turned to stone. All he could do was kneel there, hold his unconscious wife and listen to the panicking Shepherds around him. Marth, his daughter in disguise was shouting something he could not understand, her tone of voice rough and commanding. Before he could blink someone was taking the woman in his arms away from him and walking away, ignoring the fear and grief that slipped from his lips as he begged them to give her back. His body was lifted from the ground by a strong hand and flung to the saddle of a horse, golden armor and white feathers blurring in his vision as the person responsible shouted something in a deep rumble.
Chrom soon found himself closing his eyes and falling asleep for the first time in three days as the stallion below him trotted away. The sounds of the group melted in his ears as he was lead away, legs numb and mind trapped in a state of troubled distance. The words of others met his ears only to fade away shortly after he grabbed them. Each rushed beat of his heart dragged on as they seemed to be heading back to the place they had came from, the borrowed Feroxi ship. The sounds of the harbor swarmed him as he finally escaped the horrible merging of sleep and the world around him. Instead, he slipped into a world of black.
He hated this.
His head was in his hands as he waited outside of the Shepherd's makeshift medical wing. The ship below him swayed and rocked in a futile attempt to ease his nerves. The wood against his legs seemed to splinter against his armor as he waited for any news. Inside of the small cabin was Robin, lying on a bed and being examined by Libra and Lissa. Chrom's head leaned back against the wall as he pulled away from his sweating palms. How could he be expected to sit here and wait? All he wanted to do was see for himself if she was alright, just as he always had. Instead, he was sentenced to stay out here in the open.
Suddenly, a yell resonated through the space.
Chrom jumped to his feet as he found it coming from the medical wing. He was just about to grab the doorknob when he heard the sounds diminish into speaking. The blue-haired royal froze in place as his ears struggled to make sense of what was being said on the other side of the wood. His heart slammed in his chest as he waited, trying to understand the conversation.
"Please, there is no need to be frightened." The calm tone of Libra's voice was the first he could understand, sounding as if he was closest to the door. "We are simply here to take care of you. You are safe now, child."
"I am no child," Robin spat. It was evident by her tone that the events on the road had not been lost after she had been knocked out. The realization brought mixed feelings to the Exalt's chest as he listened, waiting for more to be said. "I...I don't understand. I'm just fine, priest. Please, I wish to be released. I have to get back to Ferox immediately."
"Well then," a cheerful voice cooed, "you're going to need a boat to get there." Lissa was speaking now, her voice a bit fainter than her assistant. Chrom determined that his sister must be closer to the grandmaster than the war monk was; it was only natural for the blond to want to stand beside her sister-in-law once again. "You're in Valm right now. Ferox is quite a ways across the ocean."
"V-Valm?!" Robin's voice quivered in shock before something squeaked, most likely the last woman to speak. Chrom closed his eyes and soon found the image of her covering her mouth with her hands entering his mind again, remembering the nervous tick she had of talking in a higher pitch. "How in the world... I-I can't be in Valm! That's far too far away! I was just in Ylisse a moment ago, fighting some man with blue hair who was trying to steal me! There's no way I could be across an ocean!"
"She doesn't remember, does she?" Chrom bolted away from the door with a hand on his weapon as he found a dark figure lingering in the shadows of a doorway. He instinctively assumed the voice to be Grima, the woman of shadows that had stolen his wife from him. The Exalted Falchion at his hip was exposed to the filtered sunlight as his blue eyes narrowed against the darkness, trying to find the source.
"Easy, royal." The voice became a bit more familiar as a young woman with pitch-black hair stepped out of the shadows. The blue-haired man quickly recognized Tharja, the dark mage. He slipped his sword away with a hiss as he felt shame rise in his throat. Tharja was Libra's wife after all; why wouldn't she wait nearby for her husband? "I'm not here to stab you in the back."
Chrom opened his mouth to apologize only for the dark mage to ignore him, her dark eyes trained on the door. "I can feel Robin's soul in there." A shiver went down the man's spine as he found the corners of her lip twisting with a smirk. "It seems to be just as powerful as when we fought against Grima, only there is quite a bit of difference in the energy." Her fingertips reached for a tome before curling around it absently, almost as if she was ignoring the royalty in the room. "There used to be a darkness around it, but now it seems to have faded away." Her eyes closed for a moment as she let out a chuckle.
"It makes sense. That darkness was probably the egg of Grima or whatever that twisted version of Robin called it. It would make perfect sense for it to disappear after the death of the fell dragon." Her attention then turned to Chrom, her eyes hiding in a seemingly permanent shadow. "Tell me, just how violent was she when she attacked you? I certainly hope that impressive bloodlust of hers hasn't faded away in the past year."
A thorn of darkness pierced his skin as he turned back to the door, unable to the look the black-haired mage in the eye. "It's still there," he muttered. He had tried to ignore how terrifying the orange in her eyes had been as the young woman had charged at him with the intent to kill. He had grown so used to watching her vicious manner of battle against the enemy that he found himself stricken with fear at the sight of it used against him. How could he ever fight against her in a life-or-death situation? He had worked too hard to find her again. He couldn't waste his efforts by hurting her with his own blade.
"Excellent," Tharja cooed. Chrom looked back to find the woman staring at the door with hungry eyes. He was no fool; he knew very well that the dark mage had a strange fascination with his wife—if he could even call it that at this point. "That is very good. That means that her power was not just from the fell dragon." She hummed in approval before tightening her grip on the tome in her hands. "Very interesting. Perhaps her title of the Wolf of Blood is not just from her time with the Shepherds, then. This is most interesting."
Chrom tried to shove the discomfort that the black-haired woman lifted in his chest and instead waited. To his surprise, the talking behind the door had ceased. All was quiet in this small corner of the ship as he waited. The Exalt took a step forward, hoping to find out a bit more, only to be startled by the door to their medical wing swinging open. The two waiting members of the Shepherds perked up as Libra and Lissa walked out. Their eyes were unreadable, causing worry to bubble up in the man's throat. He took a step forward only for Tharja to beat him to the punch.
"Well?" She scowled at her husband as Libra simply embraced her, causing pink to flush her skin. She quickly pulled away to shoot him another glare. "How is she? We're dying to find out how are little grandmaster is doing, Libra. We have no time for sweet words." The war monk just laughed her attitude off and turned to the blue-haired royal standing nearby.
"Not to worry, your Highness." Libra reached up and absently tucked a bit of blond hair out of his face, his eyes warm with friendliness. "Robin is in perfect health. The wounds she received on Grima's back are completely absent. There's not a trace of a scar on her." He paused before turning to Lissa. The young woman jumped with her hands clasped together before looking to her brother with a smile.
"Yup!" Her voice was light, bringing a bit of relief to the discomfort in Chrom's chest. The blond pigtails on her head bounced as she absently rocked back and forth on her heels. "She almost looks like she's never been in a battle before!" Her eyes fluttered shut as she smiled to herself, her hands parting as to lift a single finger in the air. "There's not a single scar on her entire body! Not even that nasty one on her arm from protecting the children is there anymore!" She opened her eyes and shot her brother a grin. "Naga must have healed her before giving her back to us."
"And her memories," Chrom pressed. The two healers jolted slightly before exchanging a questioning glance. This look wasn't one of uncertainty of his words, oh no. This one was something much worse, something that made the Exalt's heart squeeze in his chest. "Please, what about her memories? She acted as if she had no idea who I was back there. There must be some sort of reason for it!"
"...Chrom," Libra began, "you might want to sit down for this." The royal looked to the man with horrified eyes as his feet stumbled back. Those were words he never wanted to hear, especially from a healer. Part of him wanted to cover his ears and run away as he would have as a child. Perhaps if he never heard the words, the problem would never exist. Although, he knew that such a thing was pointless. He was a man now, and a leader to boot. He would have to stand tall and take any terrible news to heart, even if it hurt. Blue hair bobbed as the leader of the Shepherds slowly dropped himself back down to the wooden bench he had occupied earlier. Libra's brown eyes held a bit of darkness as the man wrung his hands.
"...You recall what I told you about amnesia, do you not?" Chrom slowly nodded as his throat burned. He didn't want this to be brought up. If anything, this was one of the worst possible topics for Libra to choose. But the royal could not speak. Instead, he slowly nodded and looked back up to the man. The blond took a deep breath as Lissa turned away, unable to hold eye contact any longer. "Well...I am afraid that her amnesia has struck again." Blue eyes filled with tears as he fought to remain silent. The war monk placed a hand on his wife's shoulder as if to support himself before he continued on with his terrible news.
"Grima had caused her memories to be shattered before you met her, correct?" The blond man of the cloth didn't wait for an answer. The heavy pain of silence was enough. "I'm afraid that perhaps when Grima and Robin exchanged the final blow, it might have sealed off her new memories. Naga has been gracious enough to restore her old memories. She remembers her past life now. She claims that she is a traveling mercenary who's main source of income comes from dealing with gangs of bandits and the like that attack villages. Robin also states that she gains coin by performing for the villages she travels through as a bard, which would explain the ballads she made and the skill she possessed with the pipes."
Libra took a deep breath as he tried to force his words out, his brown eyes filling with tears and hindering his speech. "...She...Robin cannot recall anything from the last seven years. Any moment beyond the morning Grima attacked her on the road to Southtown is a complete blank to her. The last memory from that time was facing off with an overwhelming enemy and seeing red." Chrom felt his shoulders shake as the image of how he first found Robin flashed in his mind, the young brunette lying in red grass, surrounded by stained white lilies and her clothes seeped with crimson. The image hurt him. The mental image physically hurt him.
The war monk keep talking, despite how much the blue-haired royal wanted the man to close his lips and never say another word again. He wanted to wake up and find this all just a horrible nightmare. Selfishly, he wanted to still be searching for the woman he loved instead of having her with such violence and so little of her memories intact. It was just like Emmeryn; she was dead, gone, not dead, memories gone, mind fractured, here but at the same time lost. Selfishly he wanted them they way that they were, instead of being thankful for having them in this state. He just wanted the wife he had lost back.
"She didn't even realize that it had been seven years," Libra sighed. His eyes were warm with sympathy, but their target did not see them. Instead, blue eyes only saw a blur of colors as hot, bitter tears slipped from his cheeks. "Robin had thought that it was only a few days since she had been defeated on that road. She still thought that she was in Ylisse this whole time. When I told her what day it was, she nearly threw the water skin I gave her at me. She was very distraught over this. I'm afraid that she's asleep now; Lissa and I had to give her a sedative just so she would calm down."
"Chrom?" Lissa's voice was quiet as she took a step towards her brother. Her green eyes narrowed softly as she tried to hold back the tears that had been falling from her own eyes. "Chrom, we're sorry. Robin doesn't remember anything about the time with us. She's a mercenary in her eyes again. She finally remembers who she was..." Her hand reached out to hold her brother's hand, but it froze in the air. The three exchanged glances before reluctantly backing away and leaving the man, sensing a wall around him that begged them to leave. Chrom listened to their footsteps echo off of the wooden planks before breaking in the silence, his face falling to his hands as he bent over on himself and cried.
Chrom felt like the world just shattered at his feet.
A part of him had known it all along, from the moment that his wife rose her sword against him. The way she had looked at him, so full of anger and violence, it was impossible for her to look at him and still remember him as her husband. She may have a bit of talent in acting, but it was never enough to feign such hostility without some sort of breaking point. That hatred in her eyes had been all too real. Robin did not remember him. That somehow hurt even more than seeing her fade away in the battle against Grima. He had barely hung on during that time without her, only clinging to the promise of a reunion with her once again. To have this reunion be so twisted seemed like yet another broken promise.
Naga had broken her promise to bring Robin back unharmed.
Robin had broken her promise to let him finish off the fell dragon.
Worst of all, Chrom had broken his promise to keep his wife safe above all else.
How could the gods be so cruel to them so many times over?
Author's Note: Based on another prompt I received on Tumblr, this one from Nighttyger with the base of "Chrobin; "You came back."
I am so sorry but I just cannot see Robin coming back with her memories. I just...If being attacked by Grima once caused them to disappear, wouldn't killing Grima erase the damage caused? I just always see Robin as coming back with the memories she lost to Grima, but losing the new ones she earned along the way. Are the gone for good? Definitely not. Does that make this one-shot hurt any less? ...Probably not.
In shorthand...BAM, more angst. You're welcome.