Thoughts were going a mile a minute...

Hard to keep track. Can't concentrate.

Fragments of memories turned to liquid as they flowed through my mind.


Robin walked through a grand hall. Torches were the only thing to break the thick darkness surrounding him. Stone echoed as he was led through. A crowd of people, easily in the hundreds, filled the massive room; all wearing dark, purple robes, the hood concealing their faces. Robin felt a chill as he had nothing but trousers on, not even shoes to protect his dirtied feet. Murmuring pounded against his ear as the soldiers behind him, their armor and weapons clanking and clamoring in the distinctly quiet atmosphere.

"My brethren!" Robin heard a loud, insidious voice call out. He raised his head to see, in the center of the hall, a snake-like man. A beard and mustache covered his face while his surprisingly unkempt hair added to the aura of pure madness he gave off. The robes that man wore were distinguishable to the ones the rest wore. They were more complex, when compared to the simple purple and design the others had. "We are all here for one purpose! To appease our Lord Grima and bathe the world in his holy fire!"

Robin turned is gaze to the three others next to the man. They were much like him, only trousers to protect them. It was a large, bear-like man; a man he could only describe as average; and a young, pretty woman. They were all muttering to themselves as the speaker waved a hand to them.

"These sacrifices are going to bring about our God's arrival!" the serpent continued, his eyes wide and full of malice. A hard push to his back by one of the soldiers made him continue walking. "Their blood will awaken He Who Has the Fellblood to the essence of Grima! Making him the Vessel to his arrival!"

A loud cheer erupted amongst the cultists. The room practically shook with excitement.

Robin could only watch as the speaker slid behind the beast of a man, grabbing him hard by the hair and pulling his head back. The large, horrifying, ritualistic knife dove into his throat, opening it and spilling dark red across the floor. The speaker stared down at the first sacrifice's face, seeing him go pale and lifeless before dropping his body to the floor. He repeated the same to the other man, taking his time with that one. The knife bit considerably slower into the smaller sacrifice. Gurgles and groans slid from his mouth as red bubbles frothed out. Once again, the serpent dropped him to the floor, a few convulsions shook before he stopped moving.

"Of all the shit I've seen," Robin thought to himself, seeing the monster walk to the last sacrifice.

The woman was a stark difference to the other two. While their faces were empty, broken, and held nothing, she had a smile like a child. It was pure, fanatical love. She tried to push her neck towards the blade, but the long, talon-like nails of the leader pinned her head in place. Eyes like she was staring into the face of her God. But something hit Robin. Not physically, however. It was an urge he could not describe. Before he knew it, he was already running towards the serpent as he opened her throat.

"No!" he shouted out, just reaching them in time to see the serpent drop her body to the floor. He couldn't remember her, but he recalled the feeling of watching her die. It was cold, bone-chilling even. He held her bleeding body against him, just whimpering out 'No' as he clutched a hand to her long, deep wound.

"Ah," the serpent sighed out, "our last sacrifice has arrived!"

Tears brimmed in Robin's eyes as the woman went completely limp. Despite every shake, every attempt to wake her, she stayed lifeless. Red painted his body as blood leaked from her throat. He couldn't even find the strength to scream. Just sitting in some horrid palace, weeping like a child.

"Lord Grima!" the murderer shouted out to his followers, approaching Robin as he wallowed in sorrow. "Accept these sacrifices! And return to us, your most devoted children!"

Robin got to his feet, stained with blood and dirt. His head pounded, a war-drum for a skull.

"Now, dear child," the man continued, "get on your knees and accept the sweet death that is to come."

Robin could only shake his head, tremors shaking him.

"I'm afraid it is not your choice, dear boy," he said in that powerful, insidious voice. "Now, please, get on your knees and find everlasting peace in death.

"Get on your knees," Robin said himself, staring directly into the man's eyes. He stepped closer to the speaker.

"What?" the monster asked, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Of course I will not do that!"

"Fine," Robin barked out, reaching out and grabbing his throat. Guards forced their way through the audience as shouts of panic erupted. "Then I will gut you standing."

The last thing he remembered was the crack of a bow, and the sharp sting of an arrow.


The storm roared around him as his feet walked through the grass. Trees went on for miles as the forest melted into one mass of green. Lightning exploded, only giving him precious light for a few seconds before turning dark, followed by a loud belch of thunder. He held the purple robe against him, sheltering himself from the rain. Drops the size of rocks pounded against him at all times. He just needed to keep moving.

A high-pitched whine tore into his ear. It grew ever louder, drowning out all other noise. He had to punch a nearby tree to keep himself from screaming. His knuckles were broken and bleeding as the wave of noise passed. He couldn't draw attention to himself, no matter what. Just keep walking, and get out of there. He'd come back later.

The loud bellow of a horse caught his attention, causing him to run. His feet moved faster than he could comprehend. Legs burned like fire as the storm raged all the more. The wind was getting stronger, nearly knocking him to the ground with powerful gusts. No matter what, he needed to keep running. No matter what.

Shouts were getting audible. Small snippets of voices would tickle his ears before vanishing completely. He wasn't sure what direction they were coming from, but he knew to get as far away from them as possible. He had no idea whose pocket they were in, and he wasn't strong enough to fight just yet.

"My Lord!" one of the voices became clear as day. Along with the sounds of an enraged warhorse. Hoof stomps with the strength of a God's punch gave the ground no mercy as the trots drifted ever closer.

"Damn it..." Robin muttered to himself. He was caught. He was careless, and they found him. Stupid, stupid! Of course they'd search the forest, you damned moron! What kind of idiot would try that!?

"My Lord, please wait!" the voice called once more. He sounded strangely... worried? Wait, who was he calling to?

The split second of confusion led Robin running into a tree, well hidden by the darkness of the forest. He fell to the wet ground, mud clinging to his clothes as his head burned from the newly opened cut. Robin threw himself to the ground, letting more mud cover his body as the horse's gallop ended. His breath went dead still. Armor got closer. Chains and plate bounced off of each other.

"Chrom?" the voice asked. It was clearly male, his voice powerful and refined. He muttered something about a lantern and the rain before turning back to the direction his horse must have been in. Robin didn't move a single muscle, still laying in the mud as another crack of lightning flashed in the sky.

"Just don't move. Just don't move," Robin thought. He could get out of there. He just needed not to move, and wait for an opportunity.

"By the Gods..." Robin heard the man mutter to himself. Did he find something? There was no way. He was completely covered in mud. There would be no way he could see him without a stable light source. "Is that a... robe?"

"What!?"

Of course! Robin, you idiot! He found the robe! Robin needed to take it off to conceal himself completely, hoping that he would not come close enough to notice. But obviously he would, you fool!

"Hey, Frederick!" another voice, this one a young girl, called out. "What'cha doing in this storm?"

"You idiot! You got yourself cornered!"

"Lady Lissa!?" the man known as Frederick asked in shock. "I could very much ask the same thing! I am trying to locate Lord Chrom, do you know where he is?"

"I think he's inside the mess-hall back at camp. Why do you ask?" Lissa said innocently. Robin couldn't be sure, but he thought he could hear her humming. "Hey, what's in your hand?"

"Please tell me she doesn't have..."

"Bring the lantern closer," Frederick answered with an order. "It looks to be some kind of robe, a cloak almost."

"It looks super weird," Lissa said as she no doubt investigated the article of clothing. Robin stayed where he was, feeling himself sink deeper into the earth. He needed to find a chance before he drowned.

"Agreed," Frederick responded. Metal groaned as he got to his feet. The warmth of the lantern got closer to Robin. "The owner of it must be nearby. It wasn't old, or damaged too badly, so it must have been taken care of."

"You think it's someone lost in the woods?" Lissa asked, her shoes making sucking sounds with every step through the wet earth.

"Perhaps," Frederick said. Something about his tone worried Robin. "However, look at the design. It's a Plegian robe."

"What are Plegians doing this deep in Ylisse?" Lissa asked curiously.

Was that where he was? Robin was walking for so long, he couldn't tell how far he went. The mud sucked more of him in, nearly filling his nostrils.

"I am not sure," Frederick admitted. The lantern creaked as it moved away from Robin's hiding spot. "But I believe we should alert the rest of the Shepherds. Who knows what Gangrel is up to these days."

"Shepherds? Sheep farmers?" Robin let out a sigh as the realization hit him. "A bunch of damned sheep farmers..."

"Friend," Robin heard Frederick call out, "it would be best to save your sighs until we have left."

"Damn it!"


Once again, lavish halls surrounded him. The aura of the room around him held no malice, but instead comfort. The decorations were simple, but certainly high quality. Paintings of old Exalts and rulers hung on the walls as candles glowed on expensive looking stands.

"Robin!" he heard his leader, Chrom, call out to him. He turned his head to see the blue-haired, near story-book level, prince staring back. "Stay with Emmeryn. Keep her safe." Robin gave a nod.

Assassins came to Ylisstol. They were there to kill Emmeryn, the Exalt. The strange woman, Marth, was there to warn them. Thoughts rocketed through his head as he tried to ready himself. Robin turned to Emmeryn, the surprisingly young, beautiful woman, and could see that she at the very least was frightened. Fighting could be heard down the halls, screams and metal clashing echoed off the walls.

"Don't worry," Robin tried to reassure her. "You'll be alright."

"I know," Emmeryn said simply, her hands clasped one another. Her long, flowing, royal dress would definitely impact her speed if they were forced to run. "I simply wish that we did not have to resort to this violence."

"They're not giving us a choice," Robin countered. He scanned the room around them, trying to spot any weak points an enemy could use against them. "I think we'll be good, so long as they don't let any get through."

"Why is Gangrel this desperate for war?" Emmeryn continued, ignoring the all clear from Robin. Her face remained calm, but venom was clear in her voice. "I have done nothing but help Plegia after what my father did to them. Nothing but compensation, reformation, aide, and support! Yet he would throw it all away for little more than pride and blood lust!"

Robin merely shrugged.

"Not my job to judge why he wants this so much," Robin turned his attention to the only door that wasn't already secured, staring deep into the now empty hall. "My job is to kill as many as his guys as possible."

"Excuse me if I say that I was trying to keep you unemployed," Emmeryn ranted still. When Robin first arrived in the capital, she was a peaceful, almost motherly figure. Always a kind voice when needed, and never willing to see the worst in people. Hearing her vent her frustration was surprising to say the least. "It's just that after years of dealing with his constant raids on our borders and empty threats, you would think that he would learn a lesson. Any war with them would not result in their victory. Only more blood for both sides, and more hatred between us. It's maddening!"

"Well, I think we all need to be a little crazy sometimes," Robin said simply, not listening to much of her. "The whole point is to not be an idiot about it." He thought he could see something in the dark, but he wasn't sure.

"And he has his entire country behind him!" Emmeryn wasn't listening to much of Robin either. "His people are devoted to the idea of murdering every Ylissean they can find! All because of mistakes my father made, which I am trying to fix!"

"Get down!"

Robin grabbed Emmeryn and pulled her to the ground before a volley of arrows turned the wall behind them into a pincushion. A wet sensation developed on her dress, making her turn her head down to see a puddle of red form between them.

"Follow my lead," Robin whispered to her, holding a small, now empty vial in his hand. "Play dead. Well, not that you have much choice."

Emmeryn was paralyzed. She could not move a single muscle. Her limbs were limp, chest barely moving with every breath. She couldn't even blink her eyes.

"Wh-Wha... did yo...?" Her tongue became heavy in her mouth before she lost her ability to speak altogether. Her head lowered to the floor, unable to be carried any longer.

"A powerful toxin found deep in the forest of Ylisse, Naga's Blood," Robin explained. "But if diluted, it can be a paralyzing agent that can be used to hide your pulse from your enemies. It also looks like the red stuff, so you can fake a wound to, if needed."

The stomping of soldiers got ever closer. Robin grabbed his robe and wrapped it around himself, pulling the hood over his face.

"Show time," Robin thought as they arrived. Five Plegian soldiers, their armor cheap and weak looking. Each one could only be described as a recruiter walked into a village and picked five random guys to be in the army. Their faces ranged from horribly forgettable to outright ugly. They quickly made themselves at home in the room of the seemingly dead Exalt, all staring at Robin with unease.

"You ingrates!" Robin shouted at them. He was thankful for the extensive vocabulary between Maribelle and Miriel. "You could have killed me, you fools!"

"S-Sorry, sir," one of the soldiers was quick to apologize. "We didn't see you in here. We heard the Exalt, and just fired."

"You could have at least announced your attack!" Robin continued his rant. "Besides, I have already killed the Exalt." He gestured down to her 'body'.

"W-We apologize," another soldier said nervously. Robin knew that he could trick them that he was on their side. But what role did that robe mean? They looked like frightened rabbits.

"How did you get in here?" Robin asked harshly, not giving them a minute of mercy. He had to play up the role. If they got suspicious, he wouldn't be able to get them all before one of them got a lucky shot. That, and he was genuinely curious. How did they get that far in without running into the others?

"Th-The same way you did," one of the soldiers answered. "Through the back door."

"I never came in through the back doo-"

Robin was cut off by one of the soldiers flying into the wall behind him. They all turned to see the unfortunate soul's spine bent far back, and his armor caved in. The rest turned back to the door, seeing a strange looking woman.

Her hair was long and brown, certainly cared for to some degree. Her face was attractive and appealing. Her long, slender arms and legs gave off an aura of maturity that Robin found himself drawn to. Beyond that... Well... She looked rather odd. Tufts of fur covered her wrists. Her long, almost flopping ears were visibly under her hair. The strange, leather armor she wore only covered her legs, and chest. Every thing else was left unprotected. Robin wasn't sure, but he could almost see a small tail on her backside.

"Wh-Whut th' 'ell did ya d'ew!?" A solider with a particularly thick accent screamed.

Her eyes drifted down to the 'dead' Exalt. Then slid through the rank and file of Plegians in the room. No one could tell what she was thinking.

"Which one of you was it?" She asked simply.

Fingers pointed to Robin.

"Shit."

"You'll die last, Manspawn." she said.


Chrom and Robin stood in the balcony of the palace. Their eyes fell across the horizon as the sun rose to the sky. It was just a few days after the assassination attempt. The Shepherds were going to stay in Ylisstol for a few more days until they could be sure that all security leaks were finished. Also, to deal with some necessary politics regarding the incident.

"So I hope you see why I can't give you a formal title," Chrom explained. He felt like such a coward, bending over backwards for nobles who have never even seen the battlefield. Emm insisted, however, that he played politician for the time being, and they were ramming her enough as it was.

"I save the Exalt," Robin began. "And I get screwed because I'm Plegian?"

Chrom gave a sigh.

"You know that's not why," he continued. A hand ran through his blue hair, his head pounding with a migraine from listening to enough ranting nobles. "It's that they're threatening civil war, and we can't deal with that just yet."

"Civil war?" Robin asked sarcastically. "Over giving me a fancy word in front of my name?"

"I'm sorry, but yes," Chrom said. He leaned against the railing of the balcony, staring the sky before him. "I know how much you wanted to be the Grandmaster."

"My plans wouldn't get people killed," Robin argued. He hated the faceless tacticians making plans with such certainty, as though the Gods themselves chose them to be the vessel to their will. Yet the minute Robin offered a better solution, titles and family lines were dragged in. None of the Shepherds were dying, surprisingly, but more than enough of their soldiers were.

"I know," Chrom agreed. "They study so hard; about tactics, strategies, about what works with what that they forget the biggest part of strategy."

"You have to know people," Robin answered for him. Understanding tactics were important, but the minute that a general saw through and led his guys in a counter attack meant that more people would die than needed. They needed someone who could tell who the next Marth was, and be able to beat him.

"Look, if you want my advice," Chrom offered, "just avoid controversy for now. Keep yourself out of the public eye until the war's over." Chrom gave Robin a pat on the back. "When it is, and people see that you're worth your weight, then they'll be more willing to listen."

Robin gave a slight huff at that.

"So to get people to realize I'm not a traitor, idiot, plebeian piece of filth, or any other insult they'll throw my way," Robin began, shaking off Chrom's hand, "I'll have to let the entire reason I'm trying to prove myself end?"

"Life is hard, my friend," Chrom smiled sadly. The two turned back to the sunrise. "I imagine Panne still isn't fond of you?"

"Still thinks I'm a 'dishonorable manspawn'," Robin chuckled slightly. It was odd how fun complaining about Panne was. It wasn't even a week after Robin met her, and he could tell that she hated him. After a long, painful attempt to kill him, they both had to be told that they were on the same side. Apparently, Panne, the woman that broke into the palace during the attack, heard about the attempt and tried to stop it. She ran into Chrom and the others, Robin was busy guarding Emmeryn, and ran to check on them. This caused a misunderstanding where she believed him to be a traitor, and caused their less than healthy relationship.

"She certainly has an old way of thinking," Chrom laughed with Robin. The two were silent for a while.

"You know that I'm not a traitor, right?" Robin asked, unsure. He rubbed the back of his head with a hand.

"If you were," Chrom said, "saving my sister was one hell of a convincing move to the alternative." Chrom looked to Robin, whose eyes were staring into space. "You're a good man, Robin. We all believe in you. Even Panne, despite her bed manner."

"Don't really feel like that good of a guy, though," Robin admitted, shrugging his shoulders.

"History will say otherwise," Chrom smirked.


"Robin?" he heard Panne ask. Her sweet, mature voice made him want to stay asleep, as long as she would call to him. "You have to wake up."

"I know."


A/N

I have yet another chapter out already? Wow.

Anyway, I tried cutting back on humor and tried to get better at actual drama. Personally, I never thought I was ever really that funny, so I'm trying to get better at writing more serious stuff. I'm trying to distinguish between genuine emotion and outright emo melodrama. And I'm still being cryptic and weird with all the flashbacks.

Hopefully you guys won't hate this, hate me, my dog, my friends, my internet, or my laptop. I'm just trying to do something different than usual.

Until next time!