AN: So I sat down one night and said, "Y'know, I like Nowi. I also like Robin a lot. Let's pair them up for a oneshot and see what my brain tells me." I never expected… this emotional monster to omit itself from my fingertips. 0_0 gods, it made me cry towards the latter parts! My eyes widened and I stared at my screen, transfixed in horror. But I'm glad it turned out like this, and I hope you enjoy it! Oh yeah, before every chapter, I'll leave a song suggestion to listen to while reading the chapter.
This fic is dedicated to Adrian Celsius who awakened my appreciating for Robin x Nowi. Also, I dedicate this to SockMyRock, a buddy who've I've messaged frequently since beginning this account. You're awesome! I did this dedication shtick because I feel that this is my best work thus far.
Song for chapter 1: Peace- O.A.R
Summary:
500 years have passed since Robin slayed the Fell Dragon. Courtesy of all his strategical musings, Nowi has become the new Tactician for the 5th generation of the Shepherds. However, a near-immortal being must pay a price greater than death itself, which is simply reminiscence…
Five centuries after Grima's defeat
A Cordelia-like sigh escaped Nowi's lips. With a painfully slow motion, she brought her gloved hand up to her cheek and rubbed it gingerly. He used to do the same while they lay in bed so long ago. Five hundred agonizing years… gods, had it been that long since Robin left her life?
The natural consequences of being around his sheer genius rubbed off on her; she inherited every single tactical book and manual he owned. Thus, she took it upon herself to continue his legacy. While she denied any claim to be as gifted as the world-famous Grandmaster, all five generations of Shepherds had prospered under her watch. None had died a death other than from sickness or old age, a fact that she was exceedingly proud of.
Nevertheless, there had been countless wars over the span of five centuries, but they were short-lived and trivial compared to the one she lent her services to- as a member of the Shepherds, not as its tactician. While Morgan, their future daughter, had taken over the duties of strategian just fine after Robin's demise, she was, ultimately, half-human. Thus, she died after living for 450 happy years, having aged like a Manakete, only quicker. Gods, it was painful to watch the aspiring, cheery Tactician fade into the bud of the transformed Manakete and disappear from existence forever! Nah, her eldest future daughter, had suffered the same fate, with Robin's human blood coursing through her veins. She remembered all the grand times they spent together, be it sparring, eating, or even arguing. At least they were there.
Nowi had barely changed at all, besides her shift in personality since Robin's demise. And, her body had begun to show signs of metamorphosis into a human teenager rather than a child. But, alas, the Manakete had failed to age any further than that, despite wishing she could die already and see her beloved husband and children again. She still had the tomes he once used in battle; they were weathered and torn, but still there for her to comb through when she really missed him. His swords, having traversed many different classes had seen varieties of use, being from the underhanded Thief to the honorable Paladin. She remembered the countless times he'd tried to get her to learn swordplay and how adamantly she'd refused. Her excuse was that her arms would snap if she so much as held the weapon. He'd mumbled something incoherent in reply, but she was sure Robin had said something among the lines of, "Immortal race, Grima's ass," eliciting a chortle from her then- and now.
She spun in her chair slowly, sighing again. The country of Ylisse, thanks to Chrom and Robin's tireless efforts, finally brought eternal, lasting peace to the halidom. Even though there was no war to be won or strategies to be concocted, the Manakete-turned-Tactician still had plenty of paperwork to tackle, regarding brigand raids far away in Ferox, diplomatic affairs, and political business with its own nobles and from afar. Nowi giggled heartlessly at how much Robin despised paperwork. She remembered the time where he piled his somewhat-unimportant documents into a huge pile and asked her to light it afire. She'd obliged, hesitantly, afraid of what would happen if she did. When her icy-blue flame struck the hated pages, Robin began cackling maniacally; a male version of Tharja. With unbridled rage seething from his lips, he cast a powerful spell of Bolganone flames onto the already-furious fire. The pyretic cluster of heat grew even bigger, and she should have expected it when the Great Knight, Frederick, came round the corner and began to chortle alongside Robin. Within minutes, the blaze had not been satiated any, and the pyrotechnic pair evilly laughed aloud like two Sorcerers deep in an experiment within a hideous laboratory. At least, so the rumor went of Sorcerer's labs being hideous. She'd visited Miriel's, who'd reclassed to a Sorcerer during the war, and it was just as pristine as it was when she'd been a humble Mage.
A knock sounded at her door, interrupting her thoughts. When the door opened, it was the current Exalt coming to visit her. Ever since Chrom's standards of casualness had permeated his ranks, the feeling of familiarity just stuck, earning themselves the most socially comfortable palace in all of the lands. Sticking true to the royal bloodline, this prince also had navy-blue hair that was loosely styled after Robin's- a gelled-back look that only fit the deceased Grandmaster, in Nowi's eyes. However, she was not one to judge her Lord, but she silently chuckled to herself every time he tried to be serious wearing his hair like that.
"Hey, Nowi?" he asked, smiling at her in the process. "We need that brain of yours for a plan. You see, Haidyn and Lyone are getting married, and we wish to throw them the most extravagant wedding we can." Haidyn was the Exalt's personal guard, such as Frederick was to Chrom. Lyone was very much akin to Cordelia, being a Falcon Knight and sporting a perfectionist nature- along with a perfect body that Nowi would kill for. While she loved everyone in this era, she couldn't help but favor the ones that took her in during their time; the original Shepherds. Nevertheless, she still loved this bunch a lot.
"Sure thing, Ehide, just gimme one second," Nowi replied, standing up slowly and slinging the Tactician's robe Robin always used to wear. Yes, it had been repaired countless times, but it still felt comforting to her timelessly, so she always wore it. To meetings, to battle, and even to formal events, Nowi was never seen without her former husband's cloak (that had been re-stitched to hide the Mark of Grima.)
She sighed internally, loving Ehide, the Exalt, but hating the fact that she'd been interrupted from her thoughts.
