Author's note:
This story is the third part of a series, the first two being Miracle and/or Dissonance, and Into the Outrealms will make reference to events from both of them. That said, each story is very different in tone, structure, and length, and they can all be enjoyed separately.
Chapter 1: Into the Outrealms
Chrom's attention was caught by a swift, sharp knocking at the door.
"Ah," he murmured to himself, and moved his paperwork onto a remote corner of his desk. "Come in."
The old oaken door creaked open. In stepped the stone-faced Valmese he had sent for.
"…You've summoned me?" asked Yen'fay, surly as ever.
Chrom nodded, gesturing at the seat across his desk.
"If it's all the same with you, sir," Yen'fay said, closing the door, "I prefer to stand."
"Certainly." Chrom stood as well, and slowly pushed in his chair. "Yen'fay, I remember when we first met during the war."
"Do you refer to me, or the Yen'fay that you killed?"
"You, of course. You have made it abundantly clear, on numerous occasions, that you are not the same Yen'fay as that one."
"Very well; proceed."
"I remember you told me you would disappear as soon as your services were no longer needed. That is, once the Fell Dragon lay dead, you would leave without a word."
Yen'fay was silent.
"Yet here you stay," continued Chrom. "Grima has been dead for almost a full year, yet you remain in Ylisstol with the rest of the Shepherds."
"I had every intention of leaving," said Yen'fay stoically. "I did, in fact, leave. News of Robin's resurrection reached me, however, and I had no choice but to see if those words were true." His features sharpened somewhat, seemingly in indignation. "Naturally… they were not."
"Yes, well, the affair with the alternate Grima was heartbreaking to us all," Chrom said, nodding gravely. "However, I have made Anna's words public. We now have good reason to believe that Robin is, in fact, alive."
"Milord…" Yen'fay said. "…I believe I understand what this is about." His posture was stiff and still, as always, but Chrom noted a sort of tension in Yen'fay's lack of movement. "This is about my origins."
"Indeed," said Chrom. "The only time travel we were aware of was linear. Lucina and her friends traveled back in time to prevent a bad future: simple enough. However, your appearance only now seems anomalous to me. You traveled through time laterally—jumped from an alternate timeline to this one. A sideways jump through time, if you will, rather than a forward or backward leap."
"…Well-reasoned."
"Thank you. Anyway, before Grima's most recent return, you were the only one to do such a thing. Now, on to my point: you traveled through the Outrealm Gate, did you not?"
"I certainly did. However, I was not the only one."
Chrom frowned. "Interesting. That only raises more questions. How did you learn of the Outrealm Gate? How do you know so much about it? Why make the trek in the first place? And most importantly… Why did you keep this information from me?"
"My lord Chrom, those are very personal questions." Yen'fay inclined his head. "If it is all the same with you, I would prefer to keep their answers to myself."
"Frankly, Yen'fay, it is not all the same with me," said Chrom, his temper rising. "If we had known of the Outrealm Gate, we could have better considered the possibility of Robin being Grima. We could have prevented unnecessary heartache and loss of life. Because of your negligence, Nah almost died, and the rest of us would have followed suit. This world could have been destroyed, all because of your secrecy."
The corner of Yen'fay's lip curled up into a slight grimace: the first crack in his stoic expression. "…You have my most sincere apologies, milord. I foresaw no harm in keeping my secret, which I now see was a grave error. I shall compensate, I swear it."
"Good." Chrom crossed his arms, leaning against the bookcase behind him. "Continue, then."
Yen'fay slowly tilted his head back, losing himself in thought. "As you know, I was a coward in my world. I refused to play along with the snake Excellus's scheme, and as such, doomed my sister to death—a public execution, with her corpse paraded across Chon'sin. Regardless of my defiance of Walhart, Chon'sin fell; with my entire family dead and my homeland in ruins, I vanished, shamed forever."
"Of course. I feel for your loss, Yen'fay, truly."
"There is more that I never revealed," said Yen'fay in a measured tone. "With the loss of Say'ri, no resistance faction ever appeared before Walhart. All of Valm was under his absolute control, and even the wiles of your tactician were not enough to defeat him: his military might was simply too impossibly great."
Chrom's expression was grim. "So… we lost the Valmese War. Did the continent of Ylisse fall to him as well?"
"No," said Yen'fay. "No absolute victory was attained on either side. Ylisse's military was now nothing, especially with their Exalt slain in battle, but Robin was indeed a fantastic tactician. Valm's losses were so great that Walhart's empire crumbled, just the same. Robin even lived to return to Ylisse, though I heard he was a changed man; he had lost himself somewhere in Valm, left behind with the rest of the Shepherds."
"Hm."
"Valm was in anarchy," Yen'fay continued. "No government. No armies. No rules. The dynasts made vain bids for power that all ultimately would prove futile when the end-times arrived."
Chrom paled. "You don't mean…"
Yen'fay nodded somberly. "I do. Grima awakened just the same, and with no Exalt, no Falchion, no Fire Emblem, there was no way to stop it. My world began to end, just like your daughter's."
"Then… how did you…?"
Yen'fay's expression was still unreadable. "Anna."
The pieces fell together in Chrom's head. "I see…"
"She gathered me and a few others and sent us into the Outrealms, to save us from the ruin that was to come. In the journey from my world to yours, I was the only survivor: the only one fit to live, or the only one cursed to, perhaps."
"Why didn't this Anna come with all of you, to save herself?"
"She did," said Yen'fay. "She, too, died in our quest."
Yen'fay's words chilled Chrom to the bone. He knew this was an entirely different Anna from his own, but proof of her mortality was unsettling.
Yen'fay paused for a moment. "…I suppose that answers all of your questions."
"It… It does," said Chrom. "Thank you, Yen'fay. This was eye-opening. I have one final request, however."
"Anything to atone, milord."
"Join me," Chrom said. "The Shepherds will soon enter the Outrealms, and I would have you with us. Your experience with the Outrealms and with a blade should prove invaluable."
Yen'fay inclined his head respectfully, and left.
Chrom took a long breath, his ears ringing, and eased himself into his chair. His office seemed to be closing in on him, and he squeezed his eyes shut, struggling to achieve peace.
Am I up to this?
Chrom paced next to the throne as he waited. He never could get himself to sit in the damn thing; he felt like a pompous fool whenever he tried to put on appearances like that.
Finally, there was a knock at the great doors to the throne room. At Chrom's gesture, two guards slid the doors apart, allowing entrance to the visitor.
Chrom put on his best political smile, and acted as though he was just now standing from the throne. Despite his distaste for airs, he found them unavoidable as Exalt. "Welcome, Your Highness. It's a pleasure, as always."
The king of Plegia offered a polite, if somewhat curt, smile. "Exalt Chrom, the pleasure is all mine." He waved away his guards, and they returned from whence they came. "Now, if you don't mind, my trip here was an uncomfortable one, especially in my haste to arrive; could we move our meeting to the conference room?"
"Of course, Your Majesty."
The elderly king slowly eased himself into a chair, his smile replaced with a somewhat disgruntled frown. He adjusted to sit comfortably, and stroked his gray beard a few times before speaking. "Your Holiness, I would prefer we skip the pleasant small talk and get down to business immediately."
"I always prefer directness, milord," Chrom replied. "You have my ear."
The king sighed. "I must first begin with a question: did Grima truly return a second time? I must know this for sure."
Chrom nodded grimly. "It is as the rumors say. Grima posed as Robin and stealthily regained power right under our noses. It is thanks only to the Manakete, Nah, that we were able to defeat him before it was too late."
"And he is dead," said the king cautiously. "Grima was not returned to slumber, to plague us in another thousand years?"
"He is dead," Chrom confirmed. "His body disintegrated before my very eyes, just like the first time we killed him. There is not even a corpse to rejuvenate."
"Just like the first time you killed him?!" the king scoffed. "He returned! He was not dead! And he didn't even have to wait a thousand years!"
Chrom frowned, confused. "This… was not the same Grima, Your Highness. In the letter I sent you, I explained everything."
The king was silent for a moment. "…I had assumed that the letter was doctored, its words were so far-fetched."
"There isn't a false word in that letter, I'm afraid."
The king removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes, exasperated. "Good gods…" He replaced his glasses, and looked Chrom in the eye. "How are we to explain everything to the people?" he said earnestly. "The Plegia-Ylisse border wall lies in ruins. There are survivors from there who saw Grima. Not to mention the horde of Risen that attacked Ylisstol, and the heavy damage dealt to the Dragon's Table. How do we explain this?"
"We'll… release a pamphlet, or something," Chrom said, waving it away. "And I'm going to make a speech before my people. Same as last time."
"This is different. There are riots. The people thought that Grima was dead, permanently."
"They were right, Your Majesty. This Grima came from an alternate timeline."
"So you've said." The king crossed his arms. "What guarantee have we that another Grima won't appear from another alternate timeline and repeat all of these events again?"
Chrom sighed. "I have no answer to that, Your Majesty. There are many, many things we do not know about time travel and the Outrealm Gate."
"Ah yes, the Outrealm Gate." The king tilted his head. "How can you leave Ylisse at a time like this, Exalt Chrom? Grima returned twice within a single year. Without Falchion and the Fire Emblem, how can your people feel safe?"
"Well, I can't just leave Falchion here," said Chrom simply. "I'm the only one who can wield it aside from my family, and they are all coming with me."
"That is not my point, Your Eminence."
"You aren't suggesting I stay?" Chrom asked, indignant. "Your Highness, I have very good reason to believe that Robin is in the Outrealms, and I must find him."
"Good reason?" the king asked. "Well then, how did Robin get there? Where is he? What is there to expect out there?"
"That's not important."
"Well then, why not send a search party? Why must the Exalt of Ylisse leave his country, or his world as the case may be, when he has a capable group of Shepherds to go for him?"
Chrom was quiet, his lips pursed. "Your Highness, humor me for a moment."
King Plegia's eyes narrowed, but he gestured, allowing Chrom to proceed.
"When I speak of Robin… what do you think of?" Chrom asked. "Who was Robin, to you?"
"Well, I never met him personally, of course… but ever since the end of the war, you have insisted that Robin was the greatest hero of any of the Shepherds," said the king. "You have shunted all of the fame away from yourself and your army, and onto Robin. When he seemingly returned… even Plegia celebrated."
"I know," said Chrom. "Robin was, indeed, the greatest hero the world has ever known. He symbolizes everything good in humanity: strength, courage, intelligence, charisma, sacrifice… And now the world loves Robin, when it never even knew him."
"Is there a point here?"
"All over the world, Robin is revered as the man who traded his own life for the world," Chrom continued. "He is a beacon of light. Of hope. The greatest person to have ever lived, possibly."
"I am still lost, I'm afraid."
Chrom continued his explanation: "The last three years have taken a great toll on the world. Valm has fallen twice, once to Walhart and once to us. Plegia has been overthrown twice, both times by Ylisse; your last two predecessors have both met their end by my sword."
"That is a disconcerting choice of words."
Chrom inclined his head. "My apologies." He resumed: "Ylisse has seen a change in leadership. Grima returned, twice. Your Highness, it may not be readily apparent, but you must understand: the world is flagging."
King Plegia frowned uncomfortably.
"What people need is hope. And if Robin, the greatest hero of the war, were to return? That would be exactly the kind of hope people would need. To inspire hope in this flagging world, Robin must be rescued." Chrom grinned confidently. "And I'm more of a frontlines general, myself. I see no difference between taking the initiative here and when I took the initiative to lead the Shepherds against Grima last year."
The king was silent for a long moment. Finally, he sighed, leaning forward and clasping his hands on top of the conference table. "You raise a good point, Your Eminence. However, I have one last question: why do you insist on keeping the Fire Emblem?"
"…Its power may be necessary," said Chrom evasively. "The Outrealms are, purportedly, extremely dangerous."
The king gave Chrom a look. "Exalt Chrom. One thousand years ago, the first Exalt of Ylisse used the power of the Fire Emblem to banish Grima to slumber. The Fire Emblem's power had proven so great that the five gems needed to be separated. Gules was given to Regna Ferox. Vert, to Chon'sin in Valm. Sable was entrusted to Plegia, and Azure was held by the Voice of Naga herself, Tiki. Finally, Argent, as well as the Fire Emblem itself, were entrusted to Ylisse."
"I am well aware of all that," said Chrom irritably. "I had to go through much effort to reunite all of them."
"They were separated for a reason," said the king. "The Fire Emblem is exceedingly powerful. For one country to hold the completed Emblem? That is giving that country far too much power. You must concede to the request I have been making since the end of the war, and return the jewels to their proper places."
"The Fire Emblem is a shield," Chrom explained. "It is a holy item used to vanquish evil. The Hero-King himself used the shield, as the legends go, to fell a dragon more foul than Grima. The Fire Emblem isn't this… super-weapon that you make it out to be."
"Our ancestors separated it for a reason," the king pressed.
"They were wrong!" Chrom snapped. "If I had had the completed Fire Emblem from the start, Grima would never have stood a chance! More than that, if I hadn't had the completed Fire Emblem when Robin turned out to be Grima, then he would still be alive! I would probably still be arguing with you idiots over how important it is that I restore the Fire Emblem's power while he lays waste to the world!"
"Exalt Chrom—" the king began dangerously.
"No! I have had enough!" Chrom raged. "There is no sense in separating the Fire Emblem's pieces! If its power is constantly available to the forces of good, then evil stands no chance!"
"There is no certainty that every ruler of Ylisse will have your morals," King Plegia growled. "Have you forgotten your father already, Exalt? What if he had had the entire Fire Emblem at his disposal?"
"I am not my father," Chrom snarled.
"That I understand," the king said. He raised an open palm. "Peace, Chrom. I intend no insult."
Chrom took a moment to collect himself, to control his breathing. "…I was out of line, Your Highness. There is no such certainty."
The king smiled. "You have such a… youthful idealism, Your Eminence. It is truly a remarkable sight. The determination, the righteousness… You are a fine ruler."
"Thank you."
Plegia sighed. "And… you have a point. Disassembling the Fire Emblem, while the world is in such chaos… That would be a poor decision. Chon'sin, for one, is in no condition to be entrusted with one of the gemstones. Moreover, it would be dangerous to leave the Fire Emblem in Ylisstol…" He nodded. "Very well, I agree. It would be best if the Fire Emblem were to stay in your possession during your venture into the Outrealms."
"Thank you. I wish you could have come to that conclusion sooner, though."
"However, we will have this conversation again as soon as you return," the king added. "And I swear I'll convince you somehow."
Chrom laughed. "I'm not sure if I should look forward to it, or be terrified."
The king chuckled. "Well, I suppose that's all. I am glad we could speak, Chrom."
Chrom and the king stood, and they shook hands. "I as well. Safe travels, Your Highness."
The Outrealm Gate loomed in the center of the clearing. It stood peacefully, seemingly in wait for the approaching Shepherds.
"Oh my gods. I've seen this before."
Chrom stared at the Outrealm Gate, whose doors lay open. He hadn't been sure what to expect of the Gate, but it was remarkably unassuming for all he had heard of it; it held the shape and size of a normal double door, with its most abnormal traits being its remote location, and what the Gate contained.
Within the doors was an enormous, blue… clock, perhaps? Chrom couldn't describe it, but he knew exactly what it was. "Lucina arrived in this."
Anna nodded, beaming. "She sure did! How did you think she traveled through time?"
"I just knew that Naga was involved," Chrom said. "I didn't think there would be these… doors, in the middle of the woods, on an island south of Ylisse! How long has this been here?"
"Forever, I guess," Anna said, scratching her head. "It isn't usually open, or visible, for that matter. Lucina must have unlocked it when she traveled back in time."
"That is true. This appears to be the portal through which I arrived." Lucina stepped forward, nodding at the Gate. "I did not know anything of this, either. I had merely assumed Naga used her divine power to send me back in time, but… she insists she is not a goddess, so here lies our answer." Her eyes narrowed. "To a certain extent of 'answer'…"
"Yeah," Anna said, bobbing her head in agreement. "She's not a goddess, but she's got godlike power. Basically all that's keeping her from for-realsies divinity is that she was born and raised, like any other Manakete."
Lucina stared at her. "Miss Anna… I very much want to know how you know all of this. We could talk for hours."
Anna winked. "Girl's gotta have her secrets, dearie! If you wanna know, ask Naga. It's her life."
Lucina frowned, disappointed.
Chrom's eyes hadn't left the Outrealm Gate since they had arrived. "Lucina, I… I have a terrible feeling about this."
"It's merely cold feet, Father," replied Lucina. "Fear of the unknown. I felt the same way last time, but I knew that I must take the leap forward if I were to save the world." She shrugged. "I suppose these are… much lower stakes, but the idea is the same."
Chrom started nodding to himself. "You… are probably right… But I must make sure we are absolutely ready." He finally pried his eyes off of the Gate and turned to face his army. "We are to set up camp! We enter the Outrealms in the morning."
Lucina sighed. "Very well, Father."
Chrom opened his tent flap to find Maribelle and Sumia conversing within. They both turned to face him as he entered.
Chrom nodded to Sumia. "Thank you for coming, Sumia, but you really didn't have to."
Sumia grasped her crutch and stood from Chrom's bed. "Hey, Captain."
"Hey." Chrom frowned. "You know that I can't, in good conscience, allow you to come with us to the Outrealms."
"I do know," she said. "I'm a liability, I understand that." She gestured with her broken arm. "Not much good to you if I can't even fight."
"Now hold on," interjected Maribelle. "We are bringing Cynthia along, and her arm is broken as well."
"Hers will heal in a matter of days," said Chrom. "She can perform non-combat roles until then. Sumia, however, is far too injured to even help with menial tasks. She needs to recover."
"B-But… shouldn't she be with us if we find Robin?" Maribelle asked indignantly. "Sumia, above anyone, should be there for that!"
Sumia forced a smile, touching Maribelle's arm. "Maribelle, it's all right. I want to stay. It hurts to even stand here talking. Chrom even brought a guard to escort me home."
Chrom smiled, extending a hand. "Sumia, your understanding does me much good. Thank you for seeing us off."
Sumia shook it. "Of course, Captain. Be back soon, okay?"
"And your husband will be in tow," Chrom said. "For real this time."
Sumia smiled, and she left the tent.
Chrom turned to Maribelle, and his expression soured at the sight. Maribelle's arms were crossed, and her eyes were cast aside. "Oh, boy," Chrom said. "I know that look. Am I about to get chewed out?"
"How could you not bring Sumia?!" Maribelle exclaimed. "She needs this! Do you understand what that poor girl has been through?"
"I absolutely do," said Chrom. "I understand more than anyone. I was there every step of the way."
"Hmph!"
"I was also there when she fought Grima," said Chrom. "There was a point when she was fighting Grima one-on-one. She was forced to fight someone with her husband's appearance, and worst of all, she lost. Grima beat her within an inch of her life; beat all of us within an inch of our lives, but she got it by far the worst. Grima subjected her to verbal torture, and personally beat her down. …The Sumia that came out of that fight… isn't the same one that went into it. She needs both physical and psychological recuperation."
Maribelle frowned. "B-But…!"
Chrom sighed. "The most important thing is that she wants to stay, Maribelle. Please respect her wishes."
Maribelle pouted. "How I hate it when you have a point…"
Chrom grinned, taking her in his arms. She didn't protest. "Sorry, Maribelle. You can't win every argument."
"Hey now. I won't accept that without a fight."
Chrom laughed.
"M-Mom! Hey, Mom!"
Sumia turned. "Cynthia…"
Cynthia ran over to Sumia, and stopped just in front of her, breathing heavily. "Mom, I… I wanted to… I…"
Sumia frowned sadly.
Cynthia's heart raced. This was to be the first conversation they had had since the end of the war. She couldn't mess this up. She couldn't keep avoiding her mother forever.
She adjusted her arm in its cast uncomfortably. "…After Dad disappeared, I panicked, and I went to you for comfort," Cynthia explained slowly. "I… never should have told you about my last words to Dad… I love you, Mother, and I'm really, really sorry."
"Cynthia… I can hardly look you in the eye anymore," said Sumia forlornly. "Those words were unspeakable. I can't believe you could even say them, much less at the time you did. It must have killed Robin to hear his daughter say that."
"I know," Cynthia choked. Tears welled in her eyes. "I'm sorry."
Sumia looked away. "I… can't forgive you, Cynthia."
Cynthia was crushed. Her olive branch lay broken in the dirt. "M-Mom…!"
Sumia's next words were delivered with chilling bluntness. "I can't forgive you unless Robin does."
"B-But… what if we can't…?" pleaded Cynthia, as she began to cry.
"Then you'd better find him, I suppose." Sumia turned and limped away. "Good luck."
She left Cynthia standing there, utterly lost. Cynthia saw the irony in the reversal…
Sumia steeled herself as she walked away. A consuming self-hatred arose in her for her harshness to Cynthia, but she still couldn't find it in her heart to forgive her daughter.
Even now, though—even after all she had been through—a light broke through her cynicism.
When… When Cynthia returns, I'll…
She quickly wiped away a tear.
Our family has been broken for too long. When Cynthia and Morgan come home, with or without Robin… I'll make things work.
Sumia glanced over her shoulder, but Cynthia was gone.
I will. I'm sorry.
Nah heard the rustling of her tent flap, and she turned, startled. "Morgan?" she asked, standing to greet the newcomer.
Morgan beamed, rushing over to hug Nah. "Nah! How have you been, girl?"
Nah grunted as Morgan enveloped her in a tight embrace. "Oof! E-Er… I've been better, I guess?"
"Aw, don't be like that!" Morgan pulled back, still grasping Nah's shoulders, and looked her up and down. "You look great!"
Nah blinked. "Th-Thanks…? Your eye looks much better…"
Morgan touched her black eye. "Yeah, I can open it and everything! But enough about me." She sat on Nah's bed, and patted the spot next to her eagerly. "Let's talk, just me and you! Like old times."
"Morgan…" Nah sighed. "I know what this is about. You don't have to feel guilty."
"Wha—guilty? About what, silly?"
"We used to be friends," Nah said. "Friends… drift apart, it happens. You don't have to make anything up to me."
Morgan frowned, upset. "Hey, yes I do! I, like, neglected you for months! I was really mean to you!"
"No you weren't." Nah crossed her arms. "You don't even know the meaning of the word 'mean.' 'Mean' is discriminating against me for being a Manakete. For not talking to me because I'm different. You just had your own life to deal with; your own family to live with. I didn't, so I fell by the wayside. It's okay. Manaketes are loners by nature." She smiled wanly. "You're off the hook, Morgan. Clear your conscience."
Morgan stood, indignant. "No, I do know what mean is! 'Mean' is someone who isn't there for her best friend, and because of that, said best friend is emotionally vulnerable!"
Nah was taken aback.
"You said it yourself, two days ago in the medical wing!" Morgan continued. "You said: 'Robin was able to take advantage of me because I was so emotionally vulnerable.' That's on me, Nah! I was your best friend, and I didn't stay with you after the war was over!" She grinned. "But that changes now! You and me, we are besties again, and I won't take no for an answer!"
"M-Morgan…" Nah murmured. "Am I… really your best friend?"
"Damn right you are! I love you! Platonically, of course. Though I won't deny you are quite easy on the eyes."
"Um…" Nah brushed her hair behind her ear. "Wow, I… Thanks, Morgan."
Morgan beamed, and sat down on Nah's bed again. Nah sat next to her this time.
"All right, Nah!" Morgan said, excitedly clapping her hands together. "Whaddya wanna do, or talk about, or whatever? I am here for you!"
Nah's tent flap lifted again, and Chrom poked his head in. "Ah, Morgan! Could I speak to you for a moment?"
"Sure thing!" Morgan stood and left. "Sorry, Nah, gotta go!" she called over her shoulder.
Nah watched her go, dumbstruck. "A-Ah…"
Morgan playfully clasped her hands behind her back and smiled up at Chrom. "So what's up, Captain?"
Chrom blinked, momentarily surprised to hear Sumia's appellation for him come from Morgan's mouth. Then, he shook his head and resumed. "Based on accounts from Anna and Yen'fay, it looks like we're going to be facing a lot of combat in the Outrealms. Though our enemies will likely be strong, they will still be normal enemies and use normal, human tactics."
"Sure."
"So, I would like to offer you the position of tactician of this army," said Chrom, a slight smile on his face.
Morgan's eyes widened with childlike wonder. "Whoa… Really? My dad's position?"
"The very same. I can think of no person more capable and suited to the task."
"Wow…!" Morgan grinned. "Absolutely! I won't let you down, Chrom!"
Chrom smiled. "Great!" He patted her on the shoulder. "I have faith in you, Morgan. You'll do great."
The sky was darkening before Chrom knew it.
He had checked their provisions a dozen times. Their convoy was packed to the brim with weapons and equipment, more than they could possibly need. Everyone was armed, ready, and able to take an adventure the next morning.
Nothing could calm Chrom's anxiety, but he recognized that, and he knew, most importantly, that he needed sleep. He bid farewell to Sumia and her royal escort, and he returned to his tent.
Maribelle already lay in bed, reading a book by candlelight. She glanced up at Chrom as he entered, and she shut her book and removed her reading glasses. "Hello, dear."
Chrom sighed deeply, undoing his armor as he spoke. "Hey, Maribelle."
"How are you feeling?" she asked. "Are you still nervous?"
"Unbelievably." Chrom hung his shoulder pauldron on a coat rack, and followed suit with his cape. "I was ready and eager to go into the Outrealms, ready to go save Robin. I mean, why wouldn't I be? Robin's my best friend, my partner. Every fiber of my being wanted to get out of that damn castle and run to the Outrealms, alone if I had to. But then…" He grimaced. "I just… I saw that door, and all of that went away. I was—and I'm sorry if I gag while saying this—but I was afraid." The word was bitter on Chrom's tongue. "That door does not belong on this earth."
Maribelle frowned. "I saw it too. It was strange, certainly, but didn't inspire that sort of feeling in me…"
Chrom shook his head. "I know. I asked around, and the others said more or less the same thing. It's just me, I guess." He clenched his fists, resisting the urge to kick over the coat rack. "It's—frustrating! I feel like a coward for being afraid of a door."
"Chrom, you've faced far scarier things without batting an eyelash," said Maribelle with a coy smile. "I'll allow you your one unreasonable phobia."
Chrom rolled his eyes, but he couldn't resist a grin. "Thanks, Maribelle." He slid under the covers next to her. "How about you? Nervous at all?"
"There's a certain level of uncertainty," she said, "but my greatest worry is for our children."
"I feel the same way," said Chrom. "I feel like I have been absent for far too much of Lucina's life already… I fought two wars without her, and now I'm leaving her again."
Maribelle scowled, looking away.
Chrom grimaced. "I'm sorry… that's still a sore subject, I suppose."
"I haven't entirely forgiven you yet."
"It was unavoidable," said Chrom. "I couldn't possibly have brought you to fight Robin with me. Somebody had to watch our and Sumia's children while we battled him, and we didn't have time to find a nanny or anything. Hell, I didn't even have time to get Lucina."
"When I was healing Morgan, she gave me a very detailed, very graphic account of your battle," said Maribelle. "I know of every injury you sustained, even though you tried to get them healed as quickly as possible so I wouldn't worry."
"Curse her eidetic memory," Chrom muttered inwardly. Then, to Maribelle, "What would have changed if you were there?"
Maribelle gave him a sideways, knowing look. "Put yourself in my shoes, Chrom."
"Ah." Chrom immediately understood. "I'm sorry, Maribelle. But if you were in my shoes, you would be making the same explanation to me: nothing would have changed if I was there." He shrugged mischievously. "Although I do have the whole only-one-worthy-of-Falchion thing going for me…"
Maribelle smiled. "…You know what I would tell me, if I were you? I would say, this isn't Lucina's future. In this timeline, people come back from wars."
Chrom grinned. "You know me well. I love you so much."
"Hee hee. I love you too."
Chrom peered over Maribelle's shoulders, and sighed with disappointment upon finding her eyes closed and her chest heaving with the rhythm of sleep.
Chrom rolled over, unable to find a comfortable position. He could still feel the Gate out there, somewhere, still glowing that arcane blew aura, that clock still ticking within.
No, it wasn't a clock… it was an eye.
Goosebumps raised on his arms when he imagined it. He scowled with irritation at the sensation; he was as a child scared by the dark.
He turned his thoughts to the past instead. Robin. How he missed his friend; during the war, they could converse about anything for hours and hours. Many a night, they skirted sleep entirely from talking—those were far more entertaining all-nighters than his current one.
Chrom smiled at a particular memory…
"Robin!"
Robin jerked awake, quickly wiping drool from the corner of his mouth. "I-I'm awake," he slurred.
Chrom grinned. "I think we should call it a night."
"No, no…" Robin murmured dryly, sorting through his maps that he had knocked out of perfect alignment in his sleep. "We… aren't through planning."
"The battle is already all but won," said Chrom. "The Grimleal waiting for us will stand no chance. We already know what terrain and enemy types to watch out for, and have outfitted accordingly."
Robin squinted with sleep-addled eyes, trying to arrange his maps back to perfection. His hand slipped, and the map slid askew once again. "We aren't ready… yet…" he muttered, his irritation growing the more he failed. "It's not… perfect. Our plans aren't—" The map slid again, and Robin growled loudly. He grasped the map, crumpled it, and threw it at the wall with force.
Chrom's smile died. "Robin, we… we're ready. We can't achieve perfection; we can only get so close."
"Yes we can!" exclaimed Robin. He rubbed his eyes fervently, followed by slapping his own cheeks, forcing himself awake. "Valm was a perfect war for us. The war to end all wars. Ylisse didn't suffer a single casualty in any battle. That's the ideal to live up to, and live up to it I will."
Chrom put a hand on Robin's shoulder. "Nobody will die, I swear it. We have a team of elite, invincible Shepherds, and the finest tactician the world has ever known. And this is only a mere skirmish." He smiled. "We'll make it; all of us."
Robin raised his pointer finger. "Even one casualty means we've lost. One, and my reputation dies. One, and everything the Shepherds stand for crumbles." He turned around in his chair, looking up at Chrom with baggy, bloodshot eyes. "Do you understand that pressure? I do. I also understand the feeling of defeat. Our victory over Plegia was absolutely pyrrhic, because of the loss of Ylisse's Pegasus Knights and…" Sleep-addled though he was, Robin bit his tongue, having enough sense and tact to not bring up Emmeryn.
Chrom frowned, changing the subject. "When is the last time you got a full night's sleep?"
"Hah. After defeating Walhart, maybe," Robin joked.
Chrom and Robin chuckled together.
"Well, you look terrible, Robin. I know you are an amazing fighter, like any of us here, but if you don't get some sleep, even lowly Grimleal could get the better of you."
"…I'm sorry," Robin said suddenly.
"F-For what?"
"For worrying you." Robin stood. "I will get some sleep now."
Chrom squinted skeptically. "What's this all of a sudden?"
"You're right," said Robin plainly. "I need sleep, so I'll get some. And since this is my tent, you should return to yours and get some sleep, yourself. Sumia will return from scouting in a few hours, and you probably shouldn't be here then."
Chrom analyzed Robin for a quiet moment. "…You're trying to make me stop bugging you about sleep. You're going to get right back to tactics as soon as I leave."
"Wha—That's not true!"
Chrom smirked, and with a swift motion, marched over and sat on the floor next to Robin's bed. He smugly watched Robin. "I'm staying here with you, all night if I have to."
Robin rolled his eyes. "You've accidentally fallen asleep here before, but this is new."
"You get on this bed, right now."
"That would be the worst thing to hear if someone walked in at this moment."
"Enough with the jokes, Robin! Get some sleep, now. That's an order."
"When's the last time you've given me an order?"
"Hey, I'm the Exalt. You'll listen to me when I talk to you."
Robin sighed, weighing his options. Chrom still wore that infuriating smirk, and even patted Robin's bed enticingly.
Sleep wouldn't be so bad, I guess, he thought. How I wish the human body didn't require sleep. Such a waste of time.
Robin doused his lamp and slowly trudged over to the bed.
"Atta boy," said Chrom as Robin lay down. "Now stay there."
"Yeah, yeah…"
He has to be asleep by now. Robin peered over the edge of his bed, and to his satisfaction, there laid Chrom, on the floor, his eyes closed and his breathing even.
Robin grinned, slowly easing himself out of bed a toe at a time. He took a cautious step toward his desk, trying to maintain his stealthy movement.
Then, a tight grip clamped around his ankle, causing him to yelp in alarm. He attempted to jump away, but only succeeded in tripping onto the ground.
Within a second, Chrom was on top of him, violently trying to pull Robin to his feet. "I—knew you would—you—sneaky—bastard!"
"It's not perfect yet! It isn't!" Robin struggled against Chrom's grip.
The two wrestled for a moment.
A faint voice came from outside: "Chrom! Robin! Chr—!" The tent flap flew open, and who else but Maribelle stepped in, wielding a lantern. "Oh gods! What is going on here?!"
Chrom still had Robin pinned on the ground in a compromising position. Both blinked up at Maribelle, nonplussed.
"W-Well, get off of him!" Maribelle insisted, gesturing violently at Chrom. Chrom hastily complied, putting platonic distance between him and his friend. "Goodness gracious, that sort of thing is taboo!"
Robin and Chrom both made hasty excuses over each other, in vain attempts to assure Maribelle of their firm passion for the opposite gender. Maribelle raised a hand, shushing them with "Upupup! I don't want to hear it! Anyway: my news is far, far more pressing."
Chrom cleared his throat awkwardly, refusing to meet Robin's eye. "W-Well, I'm, uh, eager to hear it."
"This isn't a normal milk run, my dears." Maribelle had a delighted twinkle in her eye. "There are Grimleal in this area for a reason. A very, very pertinent reason to our interests."
"Vaguer, please," said Robin dryly. "I understand too well."
"Oh, hush!" said Maribelle excitedly. "It's the villagers! They have Emmeryn with them!"
Chrom smiled, a warm feeling crawling over him at the memory. Fears of the Outrealm Gate had been entirely cleansed of him. That… was a good day.
Not another thought crossed his mind before sleep, at last, overtook him.
Chrom laced up his gloves, unable to fight a small grin.
Maribelle glanced over at him as she brushed her hair. She caught his smile. "You look chipper this morning, love."
"I don't know what it is, I just… Thoughts of Robin empowered me, Maribelle."
"Oh, gods, not this again."
"I was trying to get him to go to sleep!" Chrom insisted. "Honestly, Maribelle, that was a whole year ago, yet still you tease me."
Maribelle giggled to herself.
"Anyway…" Chrom's eyes went far away. "I've been thinking of Robin as this… concept. This ideal hero that the world knows him as. This… dead man. But last night, for the first time in months, I remembered him as he was: a person. A flawed person, but a great one nonetheless, and most importantly, my best friend. That thought—the thought that Robin could be back with us—is empowering. Now, I have no qualms, no fear. I don't care what the Outrealm Gate holds in its eldritch depths—I will quash it, and force it to take me to Robin. I will find my friend. The family of Shepherds will be restored." He grinned with determination as he pulled the string in his gauntlets taut, completing his armor, and turned to face his wife. "Maribelle. I am going to make a speech before the Shepherds. And then, we are going to find him."
Maribelle was breathless, her lips slightly parted, and stood still and silent for a short while. Without a word, she strode closer, wrapping her arms around Chrom and kissing him firmly. Chrom stumbled, surprised.
After a passionate moment, Maribelle pulled away. "I have never been more attracted to you than I am right now," she stated.
Chrom grinned dumbly. "W-Wow, I, uh…"
"Those words are exactly the kind of thing that made me fall in love with you," said Maribelle. "You are absolutely right! We are going to—to—find the hell out of Robin!" She kissed him again.
Chrom didn't resist for one second.
Chrom stared into the gaping maw of the Outrealm Gate. The entire formation of Shepherds stood at his back, and with them, he felt no fear, no powerlessness.
There is nothing on this earth, or any other earth, that could stop me when I have my friends at my side.
He turned away.
Chrom surveyed all of the Shepherds before him. He nodded to his left at his new tactician, Morgan, and to his right at his wife, Maribelle.
"Everyone," he called out to the crowd, finding his words. "Robin was a close friend of mine—of ours!" Confidence and determination welled in him. "He is a father, husband, and tactician, and has earned his place as a hero to the entire world!" He looked around, meeting eye after eye. "So—to all of you—I have this to say…" Chrom heard Maribelle's breath catch with excitement, and more than a little lust; "…Let us find him, and bring him home!" He drew the exalted blade of Falchion, and thrust it skyward.
The crowd erupted into an enthusiastic roar, raising their fists in acknowledgement.
Chrom grinned widely, and turned around, facing the menacing Outrealm Gate before him. He pointed Falchion into the future. "We're coming for you, Robin…" Softly, and more to himself than anyone else, he added: "Wait for us."
The army entered the Gate, into the Outrealms and the infinite worlds beyond.
Next time:
Chapter 2 – Champions of Yore
