Darkness.
It was a strange sensation. Suffocating yet oddly comforting, like a thick woolen blanket. Familiar. Soothing. Frightening. She suddenly found the darkness strangely constricting. Something was very wrong. She couldn't breathe. Why couldn't she breathe? Why did it hurt so much?
Light.
Her eyes burned, multichromatic spots dancing in a sporadic, swirling pattern. An apricot glow permeated the flesh of her eyelids. She became aware of the numbness. She willed her eyes to open, yet her muscles refused to comply. Panic set in. Red hot blood rushed forth all at once. Everything burned; fire filled her quivering lungs.
Air.
She gasped abruptly, lips parting, chest heaving. How...? What...? Her head pounded violently. Where...? She couldn't recall a definitive answer. Breathe, just breathe. The woman's pulse slowed to a more manageable tempo. A cool breeze kissed her collar bone. She attempted to remember anything else of use.
Nothing.
It was as if her memories had been smeared into a largely indistinguishable shade of gray. Amidst the inky smog, the remnants of her shattered mind waltzed just out of reach. Fear. She had been afraid… of something. That much she remembered.
Her eyes snapped open and she was momentarily blinded by sunlight. The sky and clouds revealed themselves in smudges of blue and white. Had it always been this bright? Her vision blurred and ears rang as if said senses were being used for the very first time. It was then that she noticed the murmur of voices not far above her and a small pressure just under the curve of her jaw.
Her mouth was dry, her lips were cracked, and her tongue lay limp. She managed a weak cough.
"She's awake!" The speaker's face drifted into focus. A man. His face was kind and his hair was a disgruntled shade of cobalt. A peculiar marking on his bare shoulder caught her eye. Familiar. Her mind was once again sent reeling. She turned her head to the left, her cheek lightly brushing the wrist of a young woman currently taking her pulse.
"Her pulse is stabilizing, but I'd like to check her over with my staff just to be safe." The girl had a pleasant voice laced with motherly affection, despite her lack of physical maturation. She withdrew her hand. The girl's blonde pigtails bobbed as she tilted her head in thought, prim eyebrows laced in concentration. She turned and began rifling through the bag at her side.
"There are better places to take a nap than on the ground you know." The man chuckled good-naturedly at his jest, searching the woman's face for a reaction. She stared into his eyes. Blue, like his hair. When she failed to respond accordingly, he continued, "Here, give me your hand." He extended his hand along with a gentle smile. While her lips remained, at best, pursed, the woman could not help but return the gesture. An intricate crest lay just below her knuckles. Looking at it was unnerving. Darkness. Her eyes quickly returned to those of the man before her. Without warning, he gently tugged, bringing the woman upright. She wobbled unsteadily, latching to the his arm to remain standing. Almost instinctively, she retracted her branded hand and hid it among the folds of her cloak, tracing the garment's plum-purple embroidery. Familiar. The blonde girl jumped to her feet with a huff.
"What do you think you're doing!" She swatted the man's exposed arm aggressively with what seemed to be a wooden rod and, perhaps, more force than was necessary.
"Ouch, Lissa! What was that for?" He pouted.
"She's obviously a bit out of sorts. It's best to keep the patient in a reclined position until a certified healer can make a prognosis," she recited, scolding the blue-haired man. He turned to the 'patient' whilst smirking.
"Too bad we don't have a certified healer." At this, the girl puffed her cheeks with a childish flare. The man continued speaking to the woman unabashed. "Are you all right?" She stepped back tentatively, her other hand reaching up to brush away her unkempt ashen locks.
"Y-yes... Thank you, Chrom." To her surprise, the name flowed naturally, like honey from a laden spoon. A memory. As soon as it came, it left, leaving her flushed.
"Ah," his brow creased, "then you know who I am?" The girl, Lissa, looked at the woman expectantly.
"No, actually, I... It's strange... Your name, it just...came to me…" The woman's voice faltered. Her mouth was dry and her voice, while lilting pleasantly, was raw from disuse. When had she last drank? Better yet, how had she known the man's name? Chrom. The word was bittersweet on her tongue. Foreign, yet strangely intimate. The man, Chrom, gave the woman a look, a cross between worry and genuine intrigue.
"How… curious? Tell me, what's your name?" He paused and then added for good measure, "What brings you here?" The questions failed to rouse any immediate answers. The woman took a moment to gaze longingly at her feet, thoughtfully considering the long green blades of grass as they pressed between her toes. Where were her shoes?
"My name is... it's... I don't...?" She floundered helplessly, tearing at the grass with her toes. At this, Lissa once again found her voice.
"...You don't know your own name?" The woman shrugged helplessly, her eyes widening. Lissa gasped with zeal. "Hey, I've heard of this! It's called amnesia!" Sunlight illuminated the girls flyaway curls as she nodded emphatically.
"It's called a load of pegasus dung." The amnesiac turned around, coming face-to-face— or rather, face-to-breastplate— with the vocal skeptic, a stern-faced knight. "We're to believe you remember milord's name, but not your own?" He was mounted on imposing stallion, towering over all. The woman eyed the knight's silver lance and armored steed with apprehension. War. The word sent a jolt of lighting up her spine.
"B-but it's the truth!" she managed to squeeze out. Her hands pressed to her temples in exasperation. Pain laced her kohl-colored brows.
Chrom turned, his chin raised, ever so slightly indignant. "...What if it is true, Frederick? We can't just leave her here, alone and confused. What sort of Shepherds would we be then?"
Shepherds? The amnesiac gazed out across the field, but met only cerulean skies and still verdant hills. Shepherds without sheep. She opened her mouth to speak, just to be cut off by the armored man with the pointed lance… Frederick, yes? She gathered her newfound memories close, as if they too would be snatched away.
"Just the same, milord, I must emphasize caution. 'Twould not do to let a wolf into our flock." He raised a single finger for added emphasis. His dismissive tone and subservient posture clashed horribly with his imposing stature. Had she not been so confused, the nameless woman would have laughed.
"Right then—we'll take her back to town and sort this out there," Chrom said, adjusting his cape. He held out his arm, as if to steady her. How gallant. She pulled back tentatively.
"Wait just one moment. Do I have a say in this?"
"Peace, friend—I promise we'll hear all you have to say back in town. Now come." He once again offered his arm. She chose, instead, to breeze on past, hobbling most ungracefully. Chrom sighed, shooting Lisa a pointed look. The latter giggled pleasantly before once again swatting him, this time with decidedly less force.
The group begrudgingly began their journey. Lisa quickly took to the front, skipping ahead and occasionally commenting about the scenery over her shoulder. Frederick headed up the rear. The amnesiac could feel him analyzing her every movement, his eyes purposely trained on her back. Mere minutes in, Chrom found a place at her side.
"What will you do with me?" she said before pausing, deep in thought. "Am I to be your prisoner?" The walking had done little to assuage her addled mind. Where was she? What were its customs, its politics? Chrom let out a bark of laughter beside her, playfully rolling his eyes.
"You'll be free to go once we establish you're no enemy of Ylisse."
"Is that where we are? Ylisse?" Robin tasted the word on her tongue. It failed to spark anything, leaving her ever-so-slightly disappointed. Behind her, the stone-faced knight provided his own commentary.
"You've never heard of the halidom?" he scoffed whilst slow-clapping, "Someone pay this actress. She plays quite the fool! The furrowed brow is especially convincing…" The woman paid him little attention, instead gazing out onto the rolling plains. Ylisse, huh. She barely heard Lisa chiding Fredrick over his blatant lack of sympathy. Chrom was quick to intervene.
"Both of you, please," he turned to her with an exasperated smile, temporarily halting their progression, "This land is known as the Halidom of Ylisse. Our ruler, Emmeryn, is called the exalt. I suppose proper introductions are in order... My name is Chrom—but then, you already knew that." She cringed, if only more important memories had surfaced just as easily. Chrom continued, "The delicate one here is my little sister, Lissa."
"I am not delicate, nor am I little!" Lisa swished her skirt indignantly, "...Hmph! Ignore my brother, please. He can be a bit thick sometimes." She stepped taking the woman's hands in her own. She was momentarily caught off guard. Lisa seemed entirely unfazed. "But you're lucky the Shepherds found you. Brigands would've been a rude awakening!" She giggled at her own jest.
They were siblings? Not surprising given the earlier petty squabbling. She looked them over, searching for similarities. Their eyes, perhaps. Deep blue. Like the ocean, more likely the sky. She gently pulled her hands back, reflecting on Lisa's latest comment. "Shepherds? You tend sheep? In full armor?" She crossed her arms skeptically.
Chrom laughed bashfully at a joke she wasn't quite sure she understood, running a calloused hand through his cobalt bangs. "It's a dangerous job. Just as Frederick the Wary here."
"A title I shall wear with pride. Gods forbid one of us keeps an appropriate level of caution." He paused as if to collect his thoughts before continuing, "I have every wish to trust you, stranger, but my station mandates otherwise." He shot her a cautious yet oddly sympathetic glance. She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.
"I understand, sir. I would do no less myself. My name is Robin." The name fell from her lips with ease. She slowly brought a hand, the unbranded one, up to her mouth. "...I just remembered that. How odd," she whispered. The familiarity was gone as quickly as it had come. "I suppose that's one mystery solved."
By now, their journey had reached an abrupt standstill. Frederick and Lissa hesitantly converged on the remaining pair.
"Robin? Is that foreign?" Chrom asked, rather puzzled.
"A robin is a bird, you numbskull." Lisa poked his cheek whilst pouting. "Even I knew that."
"I must attest, my liege does bring up a valid point," Frederick began, "Robins are not known to be native to Ylisse."
"Hah, see!" Chrom exclaimed, turning to Lisa. "I was right!" She stuck out her tongue. "Where from then, Fredrick?"
"Ah, well, that is the question." He flicked invisible dust from his sizable pauldrons. Lisa was quick to chime in.
"You see Chrom, Fredrick unfortunately failed his ornithology class back in knight-school" She giggled uncontrollably at her own joke. Even Chrom failed to hide a snort amid her hysterics. Frederick simply raised an eyebrow.
"I'm afraid I opted for hippology and glorified babysitting"
All the while, Robin watched, thoroughly amused. Lissa let out a gasp and pointed an accusatory finger in Fredrick's direction, incapable of accepting he had made a jest. Frederick refused to acknowledge her, gracefully mounting his steed to continue on. Robin met eyes with Chrom. He gave her a pleasant smile and mouthed an exasperated apology. Who were these Shepherds?
Her eyes strayed to the horizon, watching a gentle smoke rise from beyond a nearby hill.
Smoke?
Surely that wasn't a good sign. The pale smog turned a malevolent grey within seconds.
"Um..." She cleared her throat. "I hate to impose, but I think something is on fire."