Notes: I took creative liberties in regards to the Taguel children, at least in the main-timeline (as it stands in this story). I am aware that, canonically, Morgan and a Robin/Avatar-bred Yarne are not twins, but I wanted them to exist. This says nothing about the future-timeline children, who may retain their differing birthdays and ages. Sure, it's biologically unlikely-to-impossible if they are connected (but having done lots of Legend of Zelda work up until now, I've decided that time-travel plots make little sense, anyway).
ARISE
Chapter 2: Carnivores, Herbivores and Scavengers
Panne watched her children sleep. They looked so small tangled up in the red sheets of the big bed, cuddled up against each other and taking up only the edge. True Taguel these two were. As true Taguel, it of course had taken forever to get them to sleep. The young mother had heard that even human parents of pure-human children tended to have trouble getting offspring to take their proper rest when they were this age, but of course, what was energetic for a human was merely decent for a Taquel.
Outside observers would never guess that Yarne and Morgan were twins. They had many differences between them. Both were growing quickly – at an advanced rate compared to the growth-rate of human children. Yarne was the larger of the two, with a body that looked to be a year in advance of his actual age. Despite this, the little bunny-boy had a timid nature and tended to like hiding around his mother's legs wherever they went. He appeared to have the makeup of a full-bloodline Taquel despite having been sired by a human father. Perhaps it was a quirk of Robin's blood that had allowed for this, Panne guessed. She'd never told him that part of the reason that she'd chosen him as her mate was that she thought he looked like he had excellent genes. She'd also had a thing for silver-white as a fur-color. It was a multitude of other things about him that had won her over, in the end, but it was true that she secretly had eyes for certain looks on males.
Morgan was the runt. Panne noted that Yarne took after her (in body, if not yet in courage). The second-born of her twin-litter was Daddy's Little Girl. This was both a good thing and bad thing. It was good in that she was precocious. She displayed a high degree of intelligence and curiosity – which drove Panne nuts, as little Morgan was always getting into things and solving puzzles of "how to get to that thing that Mommy put out of reach." The child had a clearly-marked keenness of mind of a kind Panne was sure she'd inherited from Robin. However, Morgan did not carry as much Taquel in her as her brother did. She was a half-Taquel and suffered some health problems because of it. She was small and cried a lot from what Panne was sure was muscle-aches. She seemed to have inherited a measure of her father's breathing-problems and proclivity for catching fevers. Robin had occasionally put a sticky bandage on the bride of his nose to open up his sinuses. Also, where Robin had a tendency to over-work, Morgan had, at this age, a tendency to over-play and over-explore.
She wondered about small things such as whether or not Yarne and Morgan would develop different food preferences in the future. They had tasted palace-fare since they'd begun eating solid food. Yarne did seem to like what was on Mommy's plate while Morgan was broader in taking whatever was offered to her. She seemed to have a more human taste and human stomach. Panne wondered regarding this because she always found it a bit strange that she'd fallen in love with Robin, in part, over food. Others saw him as a terrible chef and someone with odd tastes in general. She enjoyed herbs, leafy vegetables and carrots. He ate the usual man-spawn foods but was, in his preferences, practically a carnivore. Even with that, he most liked what others called exotic meats, being inordinately fond of things like liver and eel dishes and bear-flesh. Panne did not mind this. To her, bears were predators and needed some of their number cut back. She did wonder if, somewhere in Robin's lost past was some survival-subsistent hunting-village – and she hoped it wasn't one that ever hunted Taguel.
Panne stroked the children's hair gently, each in turn, as she yawned. She and Robin had made beautiful bunnies.
The rabbit-warrior's eye caught one of the framed drawings above the bed – a portrait of Robin that Libra had made while the man was still living. The priest had made several drawings of members of the Shepherds and had given this to her after Robin had met the end of his journey. He said that Robin had requested the piece as a "reminder to himself of his glory-days for when he was old and wrinkled."
"I wish I could show them to you," she said with a rueful smile directed at the art-piece. "Especially Morgan since I'm pretty sure it won't be long before she starts outsmarting me and I'll be cursing you for leaving me alone with her."
A voice quietly wafted over the room, thin and whispery.
"You might be able to show them to him…"
Panne immediately stiffened. After that, her eyes narrowed and glowed at their edges. How that terrible creature could hide so well in the shadows as to evade her night-vision Panne never could figure out. Nonetheless, here she was – in her private chambers.
It had not been the first time she'd managed to get in here, slipping guards and using lock-picking techniques that Gaius had taught her.
"Why are you here, Tharja?"
The dark mage slid out of the shadows.
"Oh, come now… I was just observing. You know I never do any harm. In fact, you could say that I am protecting your family from enemy forces that are as dark as I am. You are an endangered species after all. You can use an extra set of eyes on you."
Panne grumbled. It was true that Tharja, so far, had done nothing unseemly. In the two years since Robin had died and she'd had the bunnies, the young Plegian woman had become uncomfortably close. It seemed that she had replaced her stalking of Robin with the stalking of his children.
"I think a better question is: Why are you still here?" Tharja said as she casually inspected her sharp fingernails. "I am getting a little bored with slipping past the guards in this palace. I thought you'd be off to the wild by now. Isn't that where you Taguel are supposed to live, in holes in the ground?"
Panne twitched. "My claws would find your throat if I was not worried about waking my exhausted children with the noise of your squeaking," she growled. "Be careful that I do not change my mind."
"Palace life does not suit you."
Panne had been given a job as a guard in order to continue making use of her skills as a Shepherd during peacetime. She had plans to leave to find some nice remote place for her and her kind to live by themselves according to what she remembered about the ways of being a Taguel, but Ylisstol provided excellent protection (Tharja aside, but nobody knew when or how she came and went). Panne was concerned that her children – who represented the future of her species – might be too fragile to live in the wild yet, particularly Morgan with her delicate health.
"Anyway," Tharja continued, "I think I have found a way that you, I and all of us might be able to speak with Robin."
"We've all been to the royal cemetery, Tharja. I tire of talking to a stone."
"But obviously not to a drawing," the mage observed.
"He's dead, Tharja," Panne retorted. "He has been dead for quite some time."
"Not for so long that he's out of my reach," Tharja said, as if trying to remind a dense person of an elementary truth.
"If this is one of your parlor tricks of the kind you play on poor Gregor, forget it."
"Oh, touchy, touchy. Did the bunny nibble a bad piece of lettuce today? No… the truth is; I have finally been able to gather the final piece to a very strong spell. I have been searching for it for two years. I've had to do some interesting… negotiations… but it is mine now."
"I have no interest in your spells," Panne spat. "The only thing I am interested in right now is evicting you from the premises and changing the locks – again."
"Ooh, a challenge. I think you might want to hear about this spell. I am going to need you for it if it stands any chance at working."
"I am not a sacrifice for some altar. Neither are my young."
"I promise that it will not hurt – much. What I need is a gathering of the people who were closest to Robin. I'll draw out the symbols that I needed to do interesting things to acquire on an oaken table in black oil. After that, all I'll require is a thumb-prick of blood from each of you with the subject's very closest friends smearing in the center." Tharja sighed and cocked her head. "After that, it's elementary. I gathered the other physical components to the spell I needed long ago."
"Physical components?"
Tharja withdrew a little vial she had tucked away only Naga knew where. Within the glass was combination of red and a cloudy fluid, the red substance at the bottom, darkening at the tip and the clear stuff at the top. The dark mage tapped it with her fingers. "I snuck into the War-Tent took a few things from Robin the night after that gangrenous mongrel took him from me. You did not notice his nicely-trimmed nails when he was in his coffin? I was very careful with them. Tsk, tsk. And this… this is very important – a little blood from the killing-wound, suspended in a preservative. Large amounts of electric magic don't always kill neat and clean, you know. My poor sweet Robin had quite an open burn."
Panne flicked her ears back over her head and held them flat. "Get. Out!" she growled, clenching a fist and rising from her seat by the bed.
"With my special ingredients and a proper communication-spell, if I get your help, I think I can bring Robin's spirit back to us for just about an hour's time. Unfortunately, it's not a channeling-spell so he will not be inside me. A pity, that. I've always wanted to feel him inside me."
Panne grabbed a Beaststone off one of the shelves. At this point, she did not care about waking the children. When the noise of a table falling over and a water pitcher crashing to the floor under the span of Panne's considerably large transformation inevitably woke them both up and set Yarne to crying, Panne had stopped worrying over it.
Tharja cringed. There was no worse sound in nature than a rabbit's scream and Yarne had a healthy set of lungs on him. After she got over the momentary stunning, she ran for her life out into the hall and through the corridors of Ylisstol-palace, a giant killer rabbit on her tail.
She swept past the royal quarters. The thundering paws of Panne that came in behind the slippery mage shook the floorboards, tiles and stones and created enough commotion to wake the crown prince's recently-born baby girl in her nursery. An upset-Lucina could almost rival a startled Yarne.
And so the halls of Ylisstol echoed with the noises of a dark mage casting random, hasty hexes, a furious Taguel on the warpath and at least three very vocal crying babies. The castle's acoustics were very deep and it sounded like there were more babies.
A grumpy, sleepy Chrom yawned and blindly grabbed a spear off the wall of throne room as he wandered into it just when Tharja was shortcutting through it. He threw the spear, expertly pinning Tharja to the opposite wall by her cape. She was held fast and tripped. Fredrick and a pair of guards apprehended her.
Panne transformed back into her usual self. "That one should be executed," she said.
"She may be one of us," Chrom said, "But I'm half-tempted to. You, as well."
"Me? Chrom, she preformed breaking and entering into my chambers – again! She is stalking my children!"
"I can't have you transforming in the halls and wreaking bunny-hell all over the place! Listen. I am not going to do anything to either of you. If I did, I'm sure it wouldn't be the judgment of the gods I'll have to worry about the day I die, but Robin kicking my keister all up and down the land of the dead. But this… this has got to end."
Sumia came in, gently rocking a bundled-up Lucina in her arms. Lissa came up behind her in her nightgown with a bewildered but calmed Yarne and Morgan in tow by her feet.
"I'll see to cleaning up, M'lord," Fredrick said.
"Nevermind that, Frederick," Chrom said, holding up a hand. "I'd like you to escort Tharja to the dungeon for a few days. Give her a cell with relative comfort. I'd just like to know where she is while we sort out our differences. Frisk her for any kind of lock-picking materials – even the tiniest wire."
"Frisk…." Thraja said with a leer directed at Frederick. "Sounds kinky."
Lissa frowned.
After Tharja was taken away, Panne spoke cautiously with Chrom as she walked with him back to her chambers.
"I'll talk to her later," he said. "You usually aren't like this, Panne. You've kept your cool with her before. I understand your fears, but I do think that Tharja is mostly harmless. I am certain that she would never do anything to harm any children of Robin's."
"What was the worst you ever caught her doing to him?"
"She just liked to watch him sleep… and to look over his shoulder at this strategic work. She'd try to brew love potions on him that didn't work. It was very weird. She had this kind of… borderline worship of him, I'd say, like there was something in him that made her all funny. The very worst any of us saw her doing to him was when Vaike caught her kissing him on the lips when he was unconscious from a fever. He chased her off him."
Panne shuddered. "And you tell me not to fear?"
"She was also using a cold compress on him, so she was trying to help him… in her own way. It's hard to tell anything with Tharja. If it's all the same, I'd rather her have reasons to curb her hexes on us and to continue to use them on our enemies."
"So you are using my bunnies as a leash?"
"Um..uh…"
"She was disrespecting the dead, you know."
"How so?"
"She told me she found some kind of spell to bring Robin back – but just for an hour."
"Dark mages do know some arcane and mysterious ways."
"It is unnatural, provided she isn't telling lies. Even if it did work, as much as I miss him, I am certain he does not want to be disturbed from his rest."
Chrom yawned loudly. "Yeah, I guess we all know what that is like."
"I do not think you will have to worry about me for much longer," Panne said.
"Hmm?"
"I was waiting until Yarne and Morgan were grown up enough to stand a good chance of surviving somewhere… less…human. Dealing with Tharja tempts me to progress my schedule. I have been thinking of taking my family and going somewhere on our own – out in the wilderness. I'd like to find a quiet patch of land where we can live as Taguel – and maybe farm carrots."
"The Shepherds would sorely miss you," Chrom answered, "but you must do what you think is best for you and your warren."
"I also consider the Shepherds to be my warren," Panne said, "so it is that much harder to make a decision."
"A well-considered decision is everything."
"Sadly, I am not a tactician. I am a just a standard Taguel-warrior."
At mid-morning, Panne was abruptly awakened by furious knocking at her door. She quickly slipped on her usual light body-armor and opened it to meet a very-upset Lissa. The bunnies yawned and curled up back into each other's fur. Panne scratched an ear and asked Lissa what had inspired her to come running up here.
"Panne!" the princess exclaimed. "You have to come outside quick! To…to"
"To where? Is there a Risen invasion? Are we under attack from Plegian rogues?"
"We don't know!" Lissa yelped. "We aren't under attack, but… The graveyard!"
"What about it?"
"Robin's grave has been desecrated!"
"What?"
Lissa nodded. "Come on. I can call someone to watch Yarne and Morgan. Just come on."
The world was gray outside the windows, misty with a cold rain. Panne grabbed a coat off a hook on the wall and put it on. She put up the hood. This, of course, had been Robin's coat. She'd kept it because she'd wanted to eventually give it to one of the children. It was not something she usually wore, but when the weather was bad, she would make use of its warmth. It always calmed her, somehow. Even after all this time, it carried Robin's scent. It was not detectible to humans, but a more sensitive kind of nose could pick it up. Wrapping herself up in it made her feel like Robin's spirit was with her – the kind of feeling that one gets from the artifacts left by those one has loved and lost.
Into the annoying speckle-rain she ran, out to the royal cemetery with Lissa coming up behind. She startled the various members of the Shepherds (those who happened to be living in Ylisstol at the time) who'd gathered at a specific spot. It amused her – the thought that for just a split-second they thought they were seeing a ghost. She lowered the cowl briefly with a smirk before putting it back to protect her head and ears from the icy droplets of this inconvenient morning.
"Curious," Miriel said as she bit a fingernail and joined Chrom in staring at an open pit.
The headstone was askew, but intact. It bore simple decoration, a few flourishes inspired by plants and a small engraving resembling a sword and shield to mark the deceased as Ylissean military. The Mark of Naga was absent. Although it was a symbol of the nation, that mark was reserved for the grave-markers of royalty. The Shepherds had decided that anything too fancy would probably just embarrass Robin in the afterlife.
Since his bloodline was unknown, he'd been given the surname of "Shepherd" as an honorific. Below "Sir Robin Shepherd" was inscribed the title that Chrom was planning to give him had he survived the war – "High Deliverer." The date of his death was inscribed, but no one knew the year of his birth. He'd known when his birthday was supposed to be, but not the year nor how old he was, although he'd been a young man.
The grave beneath the drunken tombstone had been excavated. Rain was making the rich dirt muddy. It looked almost as though it had exploded, but there were no shards of casket wood nor were there shreds of anything unspeakable scattered about.
Panne scraped the ground with the claws on her bare right foot. She grit her teeth. "I want to know what dastards did this," she seethed.
"By the physical evidence," Miriel said, pushing her misted-over eyeglasses up onto her face, "I'd say that the miscreants took the casket entire with a great degree of caution and absconded with it readily. The wagon tracks disappear as conveniently as Kellam does after about five steps. Truly, a confounding enigma."
"I'm right here!" a certain knight protested. "We have to find out who has done this and bring them to justice – or at least bring our friend back home. We… couldn't do that for Lady Emmeryn..."
Chrom and Lissa winced.
"I don't suppose he cares where he is if he's dead," Sully added in, "Though I'll gladly kill those godsdamed fools as soon as we find them."
"Why would anyone do such a horrible thing?" Nowi cried. The little manakete was all tears. "First poor Robin had to die and now… he can't even be left alone!"
Ricken put an arm around her, sniffling himself. "It feels like there is dark magic here and don't people use… weird stuff like stuff from a body for hexes?"
"Yes," Miriel informed. "Much of dark magic is biological-magic. Blood and plasma are common ingredients as well as keratin, bone and marrow…I have heard that the rendered fat of a hanged criminal can be used for powerful incantations. I have also listened to rumors about the existence of powerful dark tomes bound in human epidermal tissue. Such items are even more desirable if the crafting materials come from bodies of those with magical acumen. Robin certainly did fit the appropriate criteria and he had come into a degree of renown. Even after these two years of being buried, the magic present in his mortal frame may have merely coalesced and increased in potency for such uncommon spells…It is all quite fascinating to ponder. "
"Enough! Enough!" Ricken said, holding up a hand. "Say, where is Tharja? Do you think she might have something to do with this?"
"No," Panne said. "The air does not smell of her musk, although it is difficult for me to smell anything in this wretched weather. Also, unless she's slipped her bonds, she should be in the dungeon."
"She is," Chrom said with confirming nod. "I checked on her this morning before the messenger came in with this grim news."
"Who found it like this?" the Taguel asked.
"One of our war-widows who'd come to leave flowers on the grave of her soldier."
"I see."
Panne wandered to a part of the cemetery that hadn't had a weeding in a while and picked a wildflower – the fluffy white-blossomed top to a wild carrot. She wandered back to the grave and tossed the flower in.
"We will figure this out," Chrom promised. "We'll bring Robin home."
Forward, march!