How anyone finds themselves in this position and live is what Frederick would like to know. Inside a small room in the fort that Robin called dibs on, he was face to face with the army's tactician, her eyes filled with an unrivaled rage upon learning that they weren't allowed to rest for another seven hours lest they find themselves stuck in bandit territory. But considering the energy she held in her as she shot from her seat it seemed like she would have no problem walking the extra miles. Thing was, that wasn't the reason she was so enraged.
"You realize that we have comrades that don't have the ridiculous stamina and energy that we have right, Frederick?" she addressed the Great Knight.
He nodded promptly, albeit weakly, knowing that an upset tactician was to be feared. He had faith in her abilities and a little more if one were to be generous. His suspicion of her had disappeared a long time back, and it was really obvious how she had no reason to betray the Shepherds, especially since the death of the Exalt was one of the darkest times that he's seen her in. And to think it he also made her feel like she was to blame. He could remember very clearly how his blind rage and grief led him to snap at the tactician for not having a foolproof plan, for not knowing that such a thing would happen, and that it was probably part of her plan to let the Exalt fall, not knowing the pain and tears that she was hiding behind her own eyes.
The Great Knight made quick, strong steps, rushing to the tactician's quarters after the Shepherds escaped the Plegian castle. Everyone else was in the dining room, some filling themselves with alcohol to forget what had happened, others finding comfort in friends.
The light to her room was next to nothing, but he saw it. Knocking twice, he announced his arrival and made his way in before she could protest. Not like she could in the state that she was in. Her face in her hands, knees tucked into her chest, her hair covering her face, body shaking with silent sobbing. These were all things that he didn't think of at the time, and realized it all too late.
"Why are you on the ground?" he asked her, patience running as thin as the strings that were barely holding her together. He pulled her up, setting her on her seat in front of a desk, much like a rag doll now that he thought about it.
"You should be in the dining hall if you have time to be grumbling about what happened. The Shepherds need some words, words that Milord is in no state to say," he said. She sat in silence, eyes never meeting his, shoulders hunched, waiting for the inevitable lashing he was about to give her. "Say something!" he raised his voice. Robin flinched, using all of her will power to not break down then.
"I'll be there in a minute," she whispered. He was not satisfied with this answer. His emotions blinding him to the turmoil that was so evident in her body language.
"No one would be crying if she lived. No one would be drowning their sorrows if she was still here," he began slowly, "Did you want to see them like this? Did you want to see them in this horrible state, feel guilty, and hide?"
A soft 'no' came from her mouth. But he couldn't hear her. much like how he couldn't see her pain.
"Your plans always worked! Was this part of it?! T- TO LET HER JUST FALL, KNOWING THAT SHE WOULD CHOOSE HER PEOPLE!? YOU WERE WORKING WITH THE PLEGIANS WEREN'T YOU!?" he bellowed. No one else was in the hall where she resided. No one else heard him. But she heard him loud and clear, each word like a claw clenching on her heart, each question punching her innards, making her want to spill out everything she thought she was.
"No," she whispered.
"What?"
Salty tears began to pour from the depths of her soul, her body shaking in sobs as they washed over her like waves. "It's my fault that she died," she said, Frederick reacting almost immediately, "but don't you dare group me in with those that aimed their arrows at her, those that gave them the orders, and those that wanted to watch her die!" She raised her head to look him in the eye, her eyes teary and shaking, but her resolve and grief clearer than crystal. Her chest was heaving, and her eyes were bloodshot. Hair was stuck to her features, and red marks could be seen as the places where her nails clawed at her own face as if she was trying to keep a grip on sanity. "I know my plans usually work, but I also know that I am not the best that Ylisse can have. No one wants to see a person who fights for peace to land face first in the desert sands! I know now that my plans are not fool proof, and that things are never perfect, but-" she crumpled to the chair again, her will finally giving up on her, letting her fall apart in front of him as she cried, even then trying to muffle them, never once raising her head in the minutes of 'peace' he allowed her to have.
He was speechless. Frederick just realized how stupid he was to think that the tactician who spent days, and even sleepless nights setting up plans, would be the reason that their rescue mission failed. And now he felt like he was less than the plankton that resided in the ocean.
Not knowing what to do, he did what his body told him to do. He removed his armor. Kneeling before her, he leaned forward and engulfed her in a hug, copying what he had seen other do to each other.
"I'm sorry."
With that, her being fell into him as she wrapped her arms around him, seeking the comfort that everyone was looking for. The tears that he held at bay also flooded out as the two hugged each other tighter.
"You have every right to hate me now. I f-failed Ylisse. I'm the one that should be sorry, Frederick."
She was so wrong then, and she would be wrong now if she still felt that way. None of it was her fault.
But back to his current dilemma: An angry tactician with quite the menacing tome next to her.
"It was not my decision, Robin. Even Chrom said it would be best to continue marching," he explained, "We can't stay here for long after all."
She sighed in defeat, her exhaustion finally revealing itself to him. "I would think that a well rested army would be more suitable to fend off bandits rather than beat-up soldiers on edge for any oncoming attacks."
"Would you like me to relay that message to him?"
"I'll tell him myself, Frederick." She glanced over his appearance. Even he seemed affected by the long march, and that was saying something. Then again, he lent his horse to Lissa so that she wouldn't complain about her feet hurting. "Do you want to keep marching? You look worse for wear as well."
Slightly shocked that she had noticed, he ran a hand through his hair, something he only did when he was frustrated, not that he was upset for her seeing his weakness. "I'll be fine. You should go talk to Chrom now if you're to stop him."
Robin gave him a soft smile, something that warmed his heart and ran a pink tint to his cheeks, (not that he would ever tell her). Pulling up a chair in the fort they were in, she sat him down. "You should rest. Besides, it's not like he's going to leave his tactician and his most loyal friend behind, is he?"
He couldn't argue against it since the entire army has already walked a long way. A night's rest could be the way to go. Besides, he couldn't bring himself to leave her when she was smiling so sincerely at him, a light blush on her cheeks from the cold settling in the evening. He would have to be insane to not take this chance to spend time with the apple of his eye. Luckily, she wasn't one that was too observant with her own romantic life. It was both gift and a curse for him.
To think that she pulled out from her own personal chest (something each person in the army had to keep their important belongings) the two-person tea set he had gotten her the other day. Using a basic fire spell she slowly heated up the kettle in her own hand, turning to Frederick as if he would start the conversation, and he did not disappoint.
"Have you noticed how close Gauis is to Lissa? I worry that he'll hurt her."
The Grandmaster almost dropped the kettle in surprise. "Frederick, you sound like a doting father right now," she laughed. It was music that rang through his ears. "Maybe you should just let it happen. Who knows? Something good might come of it."
"But he was a convicted felon," he argued.
"How do you know?" she asked him. She never told anyone of the mark he had.
"I must learn everything I know about the people that are close to Chrom. It is my duty as his knight."
The pot began whistling while she set it down on a block to cool.
"Then what do you know about me?" she asked, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. She hit a place where he didn't expect it.
Pouring the hot water into the teapot, letting the jasmine tea steep. "Well, I don't know much about you besides the fact that you have everyone's absolute trust and that you are now a very skilled fighter." A minute of silence followed.
"Do you trust me?"
It was a question that was left to sit, much like the tea so that a better answer could be made.
"Robin, I believe that you are a valuable member of the shepherds, as well as a very talented tactitia-"
"But do you trust me?" she asked once more, this time with a hint of desperation.
He sighed in defeat, much like how she had done before. "I trust you with my wellbeing as well as Chrom's and Lissa's. You are someone that has made a very large imprint on the Shepherds and if something were to happen I-we would be very devastated. So please try to take care of yourself."
"You would devastated?" she repeated, albeit twisting his words a bit. A blush made its way to her face.
"It's just concern I hold for every other person in the group," he said in a rush. Her lips formed an 'o' before fallinng into a small frown. Smooth, Frederick. Real smooth.
"I don't mean that you aren't important to me- I mean that I-" he tried to say. Why did he have to trip over his words. Taking a breath to calm himself, he continued, "You are someone that I believe is close to me, unless you don't want to be that is. It would be quite rude if you were uncomfortable and I didn't realize it. After all, it is my duty to make sure you are in your prime while you serve Chrom."
"So you wouldn't be doing this if it weren't for Chrom?" she asked, her face betraying disappointment. Damn it Frederick.
"Not at all! I would help you either way. Aren't we friends?" he said, though the last word was something he wanted to change oh so badly.
It seemed to satisfy her enough that a tiny smile was found on her face. "I guess we are."
The tea was ready to be poured.
The two continued their conversation into the night, only for a very angry prince to find his way to their location, yelling about why they weren't leaving already. After pointing out some very obvious reasons the prince relented, leaving the two to continue, but it was late and it was time for bed, seeing as though everyone else had done so.
One thing did change though. He sure wasn't going to let the army's tactitian be taken from him, even if that man was Chrom.
WOW ANOTHER CHAPTER. Oh shit.
*Explanation for fire: I think of it like all the people that are found in magic based classes have an affinity for magic, being capable of using it without a tome. To me, a tome is more of an amplifyer/purifyer, making the magic more effective the higher the class of the tome.
*Explanation for everything else: I don't know. Finals are coming up and I'm losing life. It's a okay tho. it alright. feedback would be nice. at least i wont fail the english exam.
