Ok, so this is a one shot I've been on and off working on for a few months, and I FINALLY got around to finishing it...I've already voiced my dislike of Robin and everyone else just brushing off Emmeryn's death after the time skip (for those who don't know; it should have had a far greater effect on Robin since in casual or if you've played well in classic she is the first person Robin's plans couldn't save, she was a ruler who died before her time along with Phila and a bunch of innocent pegasus knights), so I decided on doing something a little more dark that expands on that. Henry being chosen as the male lead for this story had nothing to do with the adoration I hold for him, but rather me trying to figure out the person who would best understand the situation...considering his past, and that he has established with being slow to pain, I can definitely see him doing this. Hopefully you enjoy, and this has nothing to do with "Never Forget" or it's universe...encase that somehow didn't come across.
There was a reason Robin never took off her cloak, though she came up with reasons to keep anyone from questioning why...she was too cold, it gave her comfort, the eyes of Grima on the sleeves may ward off or at least unsettle potential enemies...anything to keep from taking it off. Most of the tactician's friends had known her for over two years now, and had never seen her without the surprisingly warm garment...if anyone was starting to think it was unusual they hadn't brought it up, and for that she was grateful.
Because taking off the cloak would mean admitting to the scars on her wrists, ones she knew no one else would ever understand. If anyone noticed the brown eyed woman occasionally looking at her inner wrists, hidden from even her own view, they never said anything. She tried not to look at them when around others, she didn't need to give herself away when she didn't even feel guilty for her actions to her own body as many would think she should, but sometimes the burning got so bad she would subconsciously check to make sure they weren't actually on fire.
The burning was all in her head, the pale woman knew that already...but it didn't stop the sensation, and if she ignored it too long it would become distracting at the worst of times. All she needed was a small cut somewhere that burned and as the dark red of her blood seeped out it would sooth the burn like a unique ointment.
Freedom from the burning never lasted long, certainly not long enough, and after wrapping the new wounds with pristine bandages (Anna had to have known by now that she was using far too much bandage in rather short periods of time, but as a merchant the redhead would never question as long as she got her money) she would just end up waiting until the burn started again to repeat the cycle away from prying eyes. It still amazed the white haired woman to think of the days before the burn, her unmarked wrists...back then keeping the cloak on had just been habit, before Lady Emmeryn died at least.
The burning started again at the thought of the name, the long haired woman had only made a cut the other day and it usually didn't come back so fast...she grit her teeth, her body hadn't healed enough to do it again without the risk of being weaker in the upcoming battle. With the five gemstones retrieved, Validar killed and the Awakening Ceremony preformed they were left with only one thing to do...kill, or seal, Grima.
Robin had promised the king that she wouldn't kill Grima by her own hands, as he and the rest of the Shepherds hated the idea of her dying...it was hard for her to understand that anymore. She was nothing more than a being of destruction, the flesh of the fell dragon...so wouldn't it be a good thing if she died? Yet they wanted her to live, as if she had the right to. They didn't think of what she wanted though...death still felt like the right option to her, and the thought of forcing some descendants to try saving the world from the havoc of the dragon was cruel, while having some innocent person cursed with that being inside them was too awful for words.
The brown eyed woman hissed as the burning increased, knowing she had to stop such thoughts before it got any worse...she was supposed to be sleeping, the battle with Grima was tomorrow. After a few minutes of tactics flooding her mind the sensation hadn't lessened, in fact it continued to strengthen, quickly reaching that point of deadly distracting despite all her attempts against it.
With a sigh and curse to the gods for giving her this life the tactician sat up, shuffling silently from the cot to the hidden cutting knife she stole from the Ylissian kitchen supplies years ago. Sitting back on the cot in an almost dainty way, she pulled her cloak sleeves down to reveal the bloody bandages covering her most recent incident, unwrapping them while wiping the dried blood off as best she could before wrapping paper around them to burn in tomorrow's fire and tossing the package aside almost carelessly (it was long past midnight and the army had been forced to keep marching for three days straight, those who wished for sleep were to use the caravan or a mount, with her own nerves stopping any such attempts from her...no one would come into her almost lonely little tent, an unintentional but convenient consequence).
While the cuts were closed they were far from healed, simply applying just a bit of pressure was likely to break them open again...but that wouldn't be enough. The logical part of the long haired woman's brain knew what she was about to do really should hurt, like the wounds she got in battle...and maybe, once upon a time, it would have. Instead relief filled her mind and body as the well kept blade ran across pale skin just under the healing marks, a sigh of it leaving her mouth as her blood seeping through the twin cuts.
An almost numb kind of calm took over the white haired woman's body as the deep red liquid bubbled from her veins and dripped down her wrists, mixing with the dark stains that covered the inside of her lower cloak sleeves...it was a welcome release from the guilt and self-hatred that otherwise consumed her life. Her eyes fluttered closed to just enjoy the feeling, mind too relaxed to remember why she hadn't wanted to do this before; it wasn't just to calm herself or get rid of the burning, it felt like a personal battle and blow to Grima...he surely couldn't be pleased with his vessel causing herself such unnecessary damage, but it almost felt like some sort of heaven to her.
"Robin!" The eyes of the called woman snapped open at the cheerful voice, frozen as the owner entered her tent. Her mind reeled, trying to figure out why the young dark mage would be up at this time of night...he merely stood barely within the entrance, closed eyes and grin giving nothing of his thoughts away yet he didn't come closer.
"H-Henry..." The sheer panic had caused Robin's throat to close up, causing a forced whisper of his name to be all she could make herself say as she tried to hide her wrists from view.
"...You aren't treating them right." In three steps Henry was in front of her, kneeling as even more panic filled her body, unable to stop him when he carefully pulled her wrists back for him to see. "Caw, caw." Nothing was really registering anymore to the Grima vessel, mind spiraling into itself with thoughts of the Shepherds once he told them what she was doing...the world didn't return back into focus until she heard something snap; eyes moving to see a small box filled with dried leaves, a vial of water, a tiny bowl, round edged stick, a red tattered rag and bandages. The crow that must have brought it jumped back when the Plegian male dismissed it with a wave of his hand, a dropped feather all that was left to show it had been there at all.
"Please...please don't tell anyone..." The tactician desperately choked out as he began crushing one of the leaves in the bowl.
"Nya ha. I won't." The white haired boy didn't even look up as he spoke, his words simple yet she couldn't understand them. "Even if I wanted to, which I don't, now wouldn't be the time...it'd just distract them from fight tomorrow." Had he known that was her biggest fear at the moment, or was he just smart enough to know it wasn't a good idea?
"I-I..." The brown eyed woman wanted to thank him, but the words wouldn't come...that wonderful numb calm had come over her again, now that she knew her secret was safe.
"Besides, if you took care of them a bit better they wouldn't scar so bad, then you wouldn't have to keep that cloak on all the time." The closed eyed boy smiled up at her before pouring a bit of water into the bowl, beginning to mix it in with the leaf dust.
"So you...figured that out, huh?" The white haired woman supposed it was pretty obvious, since he was looking at her scars.
"Nya ha ha. I've suspected as much for a while." The pale boy's statement made her blood feel like it had frozen...he looked up a few moment later, noticing her silence. "Miriel and her son seem to be suspect something, but I don't think they'll say anything until they confirm it. The taguel and manakete can all smell it, the animals too, they all refuse to tell anyone." Again he seemed to have read her thoughts and fears, responding with the truth but in a way that would calm her.
"...What about you?" The long haired woman questioned in soft curiosity. "Miriel and Laurent are very observant, always trying to figure everything out. And you said yourself everyone else who know can smell it...so why, or how, did you figure it out?" She quickly took the chance to explain the question better before he tried to answer.
"How? Well...it's because you and I are the same." Despite the dark mage's words she hadn't expected him to pull up the gold bands covering his wrists...he had scars just like her on them, a little more faded, and jagged as though a sharp stone or dull blade had been used to make the cuts.
"..." Robin opens her mouth, wanting to say something, anything...but what could she even say? An apology would sound hollow and hypocritical, even if she was truly sorry he felt such pain that hurting himself was the best option. Her mouth closed and she looked down sadly, ignoring the still bleeding wounds...knowing someone else had done it too made her feel disgusted with herself for a moment, before reminding herself it was at least partly to fight her own Grima.
"I haven't done it since our first talk though." Henry's sudden admittance drew her attention again, his smile seemed just a little strained now. "I didn't really think much of it before I joined, it wasn't like I had anyone but a few crows who cared about me...and I'm pretty slow to pain, so it's not like it really hurt." This time the smile widened. "But then you came along when I was poking that Risen arm...and even though you hardly knew me you panicked when you thought I was hurt. I promised myself then and there that I wouldn't hurt myself anymore, because I didn't want you to have to actually worry over something I did myself."
"But I didn't do anything special. I just wanted to make sure you were okay, just like I would any other member of the army." The brown eyed woman disagreed, but he only smiled more and gave a bit of his signature laugh.
"Nya ha ha. That's exactly why it changed my mind. You treated me just like any other member of the army." She had never seen such a big smile, and despite herself she began smiling along with the closed eyed boy.
"Well then, you're welcome I guess." The white haired woman jumped a bit when he carefully wiped the rag over one of her wrists, ridding her skin from the dribbles of blood. "When did you start suspecting I did this?
"The moment I saw you." A moment's pause, trying to find the right words. "I watched you fight the Risen for a bit before I joined in to help...the way you held your tomes, how you swung your sword...it was really subtle, but it was obvious to me that you were keeping anyone from seeing your wrists. I wasn't sure I was right until you moved your sword in just the wrong way, and your face scrunched up just a little, like you were in pain."
"That's...you were able to notice all those tiny tells in just a few minutes, yet the Shepherds have barely noticed in two years..."
"Can you have them healed?" A confused blink was the only response the white haired boy got, bringing her back from whatever it was she had been thinking about. "I don't know why you did this, but there's gotta be a reason...will it not help the hurt anymore if the cuts heal?" If not for the rather morbid subject she may have confused the words for those of a child, with the almost innocent way that had been said. She realized he must have been worried she'd just do it again if they healed up, so she quickly shook her head.
"The only reason I haven't used any vulnerary or anything is because I didn't want to waste our supplies on me being selfish." The tactician explained quickly, only managing to get him to laugh again.
"Nya ha ha ha. This is the opposite of selfish Robin." She wanted to argue, but suddenly remembered the bowl of water and crushed leaf dust as the dark mage grabbed it...somehow the water and dust had made what looked like a gel, perhaps it was because of a hex? Without another word he scooped a bit of the gel and carefully spread it across the incision on the cleaned wrist, immediately stopping anymore bleeding. "This will make it so they barely scar, and it'll even make the scars you already have fade some."
"How did you find something so amazing Henry?" The long haired woman questioned in astonishment.
"It's a leaf that grows from special plants in Plegia...they can be kind of rare, but the Grimleal have a bunch for their ceremonies and blood rituals." The Grimleal had them? That made sense, in a way...but did that mean Tharja had some of these leaves too? Even if so it wasn't like the dark haired dark mage to share such a thing anyway.
"I appreciate you using one for me, especially if they can be rare." He repeated the process on her other wrist, cutting pieces of bandage that cut covered all the scars...lathering both with the gel before placing them over the old and current wounds, wrapping bandages around a few times before tying them off and cutting them from the roll.
"It's really no trouble." Henry grinned at her, like he hadn't gone out of his way to try and help her.
"Still, thank you." Robin gave a grateful smile as he returned the materials to the small box, snapping it shut and standing.
"You should get some sleep. Lots of bloodshed tomorrow, need you to make sure it's only from the enemy." The confident words made her grin and nod as he shifted the box back and forth so the gold bands could be pulled back down. "Once this is all over...maybe you can tell me why you hurt so much." The grin faded as her head tilted down a bit, bangs covering her eyes.
"Maybe." With that he left, whatever he had come to her in the first place for long forgotten, and it was time for her to get the first sleep she had in over three days.
-BC-
Robin's eyes darted around, seeing Risen having appeared on Grima's back, an obvious attempt to protect himself...with just a glance she knew most weapons would be next to useless against the fell dragon, but there was still an option.
"Henry! With me!" The cheerful dark mage almost appeared at her side.
"Nya ha! Yes sir!" If it was anyone else she'd have thought they were being mocking, but Henry really did laugh a lot.
"Everyone else, handle the Risen!" Magic was their enemy's weakness, they were the two strongest magic users in the army.
"Foolish Vessel. You think you can stand up to me?" The deep echoing voice, a hint of her own underneath, sounded in her head.
"I may fall." The tactician admitted before she allowed herself a grin. "But it won't be by your hand." He was cocky from his win in the future and had unwavering faith that he would win this fight, while she had complete belief of the opposite.
-BC-
The battle was hard, several of their members almost dying...but they were weakening the destruction god, his roars of pain making that apparent. The white haired woman had fallen back during the fight, all her friends far too distracted by everything around her to notice...Grima's attempt at protecting himself with Risen had played exactly into her plan, it was almost too perfect. A quick skim of the clashing weapons revealed her friends to be tiring, they likely wouldn't hold up much longer.
"Chrom...I..." The brown eyed woman pulled the bandage that covered her left wrist, throwing it to the wind and ripped the part soaked with healing salve from her skin. It was easy to slice the nearly closed cuts with her sword, blood quickly dripping onto and soaking the blade...the pain was blinding and deafening, stealing her senses away, once it had died down just a bit she realized it was probably all the pain from her self-induced damage up until now that her inner dragon had been storing. A deep breath and more focus than she'd ever used before, the vessel forced the unnatural power that ran through her every nerve...her body fought the attempts but she refused to let him win. Her right hand's fingertips began to spark without a tome, just like when Validar had controlled her and tried to kill her best friend, the true power within her finally being released. She pushed the sparks against the bloodsoaked blade, the lightning immediately hopped to the blood and turned purple from it...all of Grima's power in one.
The dragon's roar shook the back they were riding on, the undead disappearing as Tiki yelled that it was time. Robin moved the Grima powered blade to her right hand, dashing forward with more speed than she had ever allowed herself to use before. The king stepped far too calmly forward, having no idea what was about to happen, pulling Fachion from its sheath.
"Robin!" It was Lissa who noticed her first, the cry drawing her brother's attention...he turned just in time to see the blade slam into the neck of the apparent god.
"Robin..." Blue eyes stared at her in horror, though she merely smiled back.
"I'd say sorry, but that would be a lie. So instead, I'll just say...goodbye." Naga teleported everyone from the falling dragon as many cried out for their tactician, their enemy fading in mere moments...and all that was left of their precious fell vessel was the cloak she had worn fluttering down to land before them.
When I tried to figure out exactly how I wanted to end this I decided on the bitter-sweet ending of Robin disappearing after Grima died, and leaving it there, for a more melencholic feel. This was both to show just how much guilt and depression can destroy someone, even if they act fine...along with that helping them can sometimes have nothing to do with doing something special (when I was depressed and bordering on suicidal in high school it was a single friend telling me they would see me tomorrow that kept me going). I may make a sequal to this, since I have an idea or two, but I'm not sure yet...tell me if you want it, ok? If anyone can suggest a female lead who wouldn't immediately raise hell or something (like Chrom would do) I'd gladly take the chance to make a male!Robin version of this, with him acting more...manly? The plot would still be about the same, but he wouldn't be as outwardly emotional. Hope you all enjoyed, see you next time!