Beneath the Threads
I.
It had all happened so fast.
A step forward, a trickle of time, a scream, and a thousand hearts shattering. Then it was over.
Chrom ran fast, his heart a shallow pit of panic in a body that couldn't keep up with gravity. He knew deep down there was no catching her, it wasn't possible for her to fall into his arms unscathed. That didn't stop him from trying, the sound of his sister's sobs from behind the ruined columns of a desolate desert town. Emmeryn was his light, his mentor, his guidance, his family.
Now she was gone. He was leader of Ylisse. It had only taken a few seconds to turn the tide.
Now they were escaping. Basilio and Flavia, the Khans of Ferox, dragged him away from the battlefield. In his rage, Chrom wanted to rip the world in two. In the reality outside of vengeance, it would only accrue more losses for Ferox and Ylisse, and worsen their chances in the war. The Khans knew this. Ylisse's tactician, Robin, also knew this. When Chrom was fuming in the aftermath, one long stare from her and a pinch on the arm from Flavia got him away from it all.
Now they were on the escape route. Chrom and his army had fought through the Plegians in the rain and ran through the muddied path back to the Halidom of Ylisse. Chrom and Robin sat in a hooded carriage with Basilio and Flavia as they rode on.
Robin glanced over at Chrom several times every few minutes. She wanted desperately to hold his hand, kiss him, hold him, anything to to console the inconsolable hurt within him. She couldn't. Their love was a secret, a simple proclamation alone in the strategy tent one night a few moons prior. They had promised to keep their feelings quiet until after the war. The Captain and his tactician, it just wouldn't be right, she remembered saying. Our duties are to the people and the militia first, not ourselves. After the war…
What did after the war mean now? When would the war end?
How could she have told Chrom those things? How could she deny him marriage? She really didn't deny him, per say, but she denied the timing. Perhaps if they had gotten married when he asked, Emmeryn could've attended. Perhaps the mess she was in wouldn't exist.
The nausea in her stomach took hold of her attention. She prayed she wouldn't need to vomit, to open the cloth and lean out the back of a moving carriage in front of leaders from two nations. One was her lover, but that didn't matter to her diplomatic side.
She wanted to ask what time they presumed it was, but dared not break the mournful silence to ask such a frivolous question. There were only two blankets on the carriage, so Chrom and Basilio volunteered to sit cold in their soaked clothing. Out of the corner of her eye, Robin watched droplets of the rain drip down Chrom's bare arm, the subtle markers of goosebumps on his forearm. She tugged the blanket close to her chest. She wished she could share with him, but there wasn't enough cloth. Robin inhaled, trying to breathe slowly. Every bump in the road lurched her stomach. There was no question now: she was going to vomit. The real question was when.
Robin managed to quell her insides until they reached camp. Flavia and Basilio bid farewell after climbing down the carriage stairs, saying they needed to meet with the Ferox leaders to check on their armies. Chrom made his way to his tent, Robin at his side. They said nothing. Once she saw the women's wash tent, the toiling in her stomach rose to her throat. Her heart thumped as she bolted to the left and threw open the flap to the tent. She found the nearest empty bucket and keeled over. Her stomach lurched, and all the stress from the day was released. Her outburst was more intense than usual. She thanked the Gods the tent was empty.
Her breathing labored as she fell back onto the ground. She bit her lip, tears streaming down her face as a flashback from the week before came into her mind.
Maribelle stood in front of Robin, who was sitting with her ankles crossed on the cot. Robin had had a consistent nausea for the past few days, accompanied by a splitting headache. Fatigue was starting to settle in her bones, a type of exhaustion that she had never felt before since becoming Ylisse's tactician. It wasn't in her eyes and her mind, something that she used to, but rather, in her legs and the pit of her stomach. She was always hungry, but didn't want to eat out of fear of vomiting. She decided to consult Maribelle for a healer's opinion.
"Robin, how many times have you vomited?" Maribelle asked, her brows furrowed. Her healing staff rested in between her crossed arms.
"Once a night for the past three nights," Robin said. "It's usually after my nightly meetings, perhaps a little after midnight."
"Hmmmm…." Maribella tapped her foot. "Have you been eating the same meal these three nights?"
"No. I've eaten something different every night."
"Perhaps it's stress. Have you been overworking yourself?"
"Yes, a little more than usual. But could stress really cause this sickly feeling?"
"It's possible. Stress may be a contributor, but perhaps it's not the whole story."
"What else could it be?"
"I'm not sure. You've got me stumped, Robin." Maribelle sighed, an empathetic look on her worried face. "You're worrying me half to death, darling! I don't trust those Plegians."
Robin's heart jumped into her throat. "W-What are you thinking?"
"While it's possible they could be messing with your food with a spy or some sort, I don't think that's the most likely scenario. But I can't think of anything else."
"I find it odd that it occurs about the same time every night. I wake with headaches and nausea. I feel quite hungry, but I don't like to eat much out of fear of getting sick somewhere important."
Maribelle twirled one of her blonde locks of hair. She sighed. "There's one thing that matches those symptoms...but it can't be the answer."
"What?"
"Pregnancy. In some cases, women get night sickness instead of morning sickness. But that can't be it, you're not seeing anyone."
Robin squeezed the ends of the cot until her hands turned red. She swallowed, pain bolting down her back. Maribelle didn't know about her relationship with Chrom. No one did. That didn't stop the captain and the tactician from confiding in each other as lovers. As long as no one knows, what would it harm? they rationalised together one night. A night a few weeks after the assassination attempt against Emmeryn, they slept in the same bed for the first time. The night after that, they took their intimacy further. I love you, Robin, Chrom said after it was over. You keep me going through the madness. Thank you for sharing this moment with me.
It was twice. Twice. Once was pushing their luck. Perhaps twice was the clencher. That was six weeks ago. After the second time, they promised to wait until their marriage, it was currently too risky to frequent each other. They returned to a mostly platonic facade, other than a kiss on the cheek or a short hand-holding moment when they were alone. Despite the secrets, Chrom always made sure to whisper a simple and sweet I love you at the end of their nightly strategic meetings.
Robin stared with wide eyes at the cloth of the tent. Maribelle stared back at her, her hands clutching her staff.
"Robin? Robin?! What's wrong?" she said frantically. She rushed forward and cupped Robin's cheek.
Robin looked at her. Tears filled her eyes and she bit her lip until it bled. She put her hand over Maribelle's on her cheek.
"P-Promise m-me…" she stammered through her tears. "Y-You can keep a secret."
"I promise!" Maribelle nodded. "Just tell me so I can help you. You mean so much to me, Robin. You and Chrom saved my life."
The mention of Chrom's name caused Robin to break out into to sob. She buried her head into the crook of Maribelle's neck. A few minutes passed until she gathered her composure again. She leaned back, brushing a piece of hair that had stuck to her face away from her eye. Maribelle held her shoulders.
"What's wrong? Please, tell me, Robin. I'm going mad with worry," she begged.
"It all makes sense now. The nausea, the sickness, the hunger, the headaches. I-I…" Robin closed her eyes to hold back tears. "I missed my time of the month a few weeks ago. I thought it was stress...everything has been so chaotic and hectic that I'm strained thin with being tactician. I never stopped to think...I could-be with child."
When Robin opened her eyes again, a look of pure shock was plastered over Maribelle's face. Her lips were slightly parted as if she wasn't processing what was said fully.
"Robin, darling, it's not like the Plegian's can place a curse on you that...makes you with child. You're stressed, that's the answer. The other things are their doing!" Maribelle said.
"No, Maribelle, think logically," Robin responded. "I'm likely pregnant. That makes the most sense."
"But you're not seeing any-"
"I am."
"Who?" Maribelle whispered. "Who's the father, then?"
Robin's breathed hitched. "Pr-Promise me you won't-"
"I won't say a word," she insisted. "I promise."
"Chrom."
Maribelle leaned back, her eyes reflecting a myriad of emotions. Robin panicked and jumped off the cot. She headed toward the door.
"Um...Thank you, Maribelle, for your help. I-I'll see you later," Robin opened the tent flap and left, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Author's Note:
This fanfiction was a thought-experiment I had while playing the game. I was curious to write it out, so here it is! I hope you enjoy it. This is the first sort of alternate scenario type fanfiction I've ever written, so I'm not sure how it'll turn out. I write fanfiction, but not often, and this is my first Fire Emblem fanfiction. I edit my own work, so it's inevitable that I miss a few typos here and there. No matter how hard I try, it always happens. I hope that's okay! Please feel free to let me know what you think as you read through! I greatly appreciate feedback and support of my work, it means a lot to me. :)
Thank you!
-LovelyCosmos