To Pretend
Robin was dead.
That was the only thought running through his mind as he stood and listened to the other Shepherds speak of her sacrifice.
When his turn to say something came, he just couldn't. Had he opened his mouth, he would have burst out crying instead.
He got the sense that everyone was waiting but all he could do was look down at his feet and wish that the earth would swallow him whole, just at that moment.
He felt a hand on his shoulder.
It was Emmeryn.
"Robin…Come back… I need you… We..need you… This world…needs you…And…he… needs you too… Please….you must."
He looked away, feeling the tears welling behind his eyes again. Truer words had never been spoken at that moment, he thought.
He hated how much he needed Robin. He had never relied on anyone but himself up to that point and so it was a difficult thing for him to have someone else that he depended on.
He wasn't sure he could handle it.
When everyone had finished speaking, Gangrel walked back to the tent he had shared with his wife and went to sleep.
"I'll deal with it in the morning," he thought. "I always do."
For now, he was just going to pretend she was sleeping there beside him like always.
A few years later...
Gangrel settled by the Plegian sea, on the outskirts of a small village. It was peaceful, so much more peaceful now that Zanth and his ilk were dead.
He lived alone, of course.
Morgan visited frequently - at first. Then his visits slowly tapered off until he never came at all. Gangrel attributed it to the boy's recent marriage, but only because he was feeling rather optimistic that day.
Gangrel could hardly blame him for staying away.
While he was no longer so dependent on vices like alcohol or sex, he had reverted to much of the deplorable behavior that got him ousted from his throne in the first place.
Namely, he was acting like a jerk again.
Which is why Ylisse's royal messenger unceremoniously found himself tossed out on his rear one summer afternoon.
"Whatever you've got to say, I don't want to hear it! Your precious exalt can rot on his throne for all I care what he has to say."
The messenger sputtered indignantly, at a loss for words.
"Well, what are you just sitting there for? While I haven't deigned you irritating enough to run through with my sword, that doesn't mean I won't if you don't get out of my sight!"
Having decided that his message was less important than leaving with his life, the messenger quickly got up and ran for the safety of the village.
Satisfied, Gangrel slammed his door shut and thought no more of Chrom, Ylisse, or messengers for the rest of the day.
He most certainly did not think that perhaps the reason Chrom was contacting him was to let him know of Robin's return.
It was easier to believe when he pretended she slept beside him at night.
A week later...
There was a quiet knock at his door, some time before sunrise. Gangrel, most assuredly not a morning person, proceeded to ignore it and go back to sleep.
The second knock was more insistent, yet not unbearably loud. Putting his pillow over his head, Gangrel ignored it too.
After some minutes of silence, Gangrel assumed the person had left and so took his pillow from his head and replaced it beneath his head.
Just in time (of course), for the ill-mannered and unwanted guest to continue their assault on his front door. Unable to ignore it this time, Gangrel got up.
Part of him hoped it was another messenger. Having lived in peaceable retirement for some years, Gangrel had not had occasion to use his beloved Levin sword in a while.
The bloodthirsty monster chained within him always did love to see the seizing dance his victims performed when struck with the magical lightning called forth by his blade.
He unlocked the door swiftly; the sooner he banished his visitor, the sooner he could return to sleep. And to her.
It wasn't another messenger.
It was Robin.
For the first time in years, Gangrel smiled.
The next morning when he - no, they - awoke, he wouldn't have to pretend.
He would never have to pretend again.
