Heels clicked on the marble floor as a shadow swept past the stained glass windows of the castle. Silver and gold gleamed under the crimson moonlight; their wearer adorned in silk and fur woven in garments meant only for royalty. The figure stopped short before a pair of huge mahogany doors painted intricately with wildlife of abundance and beauty. Under the blank stares of the iron-clad soldiers, she listened at the silence from the other side of the doors. A soft smile creeping up in her serene face as the doors slowly creaked open to receive her.
"Chrom?" A soft voice called the blue-haired king out from his reverie. He looked down at his wife whose head was resting on the nest of his crossed legs. He gazed at the beauty that is her, illuminated by the warm rays of the morning sun.
"Hm?"
"I...I am worried." His wife confessed. She studied his reaction - her hazelnut brown eyes searching his blue eyes. "I am worried about everything, about what was about to happen, and will happen."
He caressed her cheeks, its pink, rosy tint visible on her pale skin. "You always worry, Robin. You're our tactician, after all. The brain of the army."
"That's not what I meant." She gently pulled his hands off and sat upright across to him. Her face donning a mixed expression of seriousness, worry, and fear. "I meant him." Her lips pursed into a thin line. "Grima."
The morning breeze suddenly become too cold for them. The sun a little too harsh for the eyes. He didn't utter a reply but waited politely for her to continue. He knew she still have things yet in mind to speak.
"I'm scared, Chrom." Robin continued. "What if we lose? What if we failed to ensure the future that those children - our children - came back to our timeline for?" She buried her face on her knees. A small sob escaped from her throat. "I...I don't want to hurt our friends. I don't want to hurt you."
Chrom reached out to his wife. He gripped her folded arm firmly. "Robin..."
"I should have persuaded Lucina to take my life. I could have spared her from more suffering. I-"
"Robin!"
The tactician flinched. His husband never raise his voice at her without reason - only if she was the one out of reason, in which Chrom has the luxury to be the only witness of it. That, and the tight grip of his large, calloused hands on her thin shoulders gave away a rush of his emotions, even without her looking into his eyes.
"You're speaking nonsense, Robin!" The sense of incredulity was unmistakable in his voice but his love and concern were not far behind. "You are not going to hurt anyone. I'm sure of it. You are not that damned Fell Dragon. You are not Grima. You are Robin. No one else but you get to dictate your destiny."
"But-"
"I don't care what Validar said. You are you. You are the Queen of Ylisse, the crown princess of Plegia, the Grandmaster, and the Royal Advisor to the Exalt,"He looked deep into her eyes, determined to strengthen her resolve. "But most especially, you are my best friend, my beloved wife, the mother of my children, and the one whom I willingly want to spend an eternity with."
His grip tightened as if to keep her grounded to the place where she belongs. "Nothing could change that. Not your bloodline, not your father, and not especially a dragon with a god-complex."
Robin let herself sag under his grip and bury her head on his chest. His strong, well-toned arms embraced her, letting her know her place will always be with him.
"Sorry...I'm sorry, Chrom..."
"Ssshh." Chrom whispered, burying his head on the crook of her neck. "It will be fine. We will win and get out of this alive. We will build a better future for our children. A future where there is no threat of Grima. We will do it together. I promise."
The huge doors swung open. Before the lady of the night, lay a festivity grander than any of the ancient kings have prepared. With a step, all eyes - blank and bloody - gazed upon their eternal ruler. Her woolen cape swept on the blood-red carpet as she made her way to the podium where the thrones of royalty stand. There, sitting on the right throne of obsidian, gold, and amethyst, was her beloved king. The blue-haired man gazed at her with eyes devoid of the seas and the skies that once painted them. Eyes now dead with death and despair. She cupped his cold cheeks with her painted nails and smiled tenderly. Six eyes watching in cruel glee as his soul struggle, scream, and call for his beloved in the writhing darkness she had invoked upon his body.
"Hello, my love." She whispered, lips brushing lightly on his cracked lips. "My Risen King."