And so here we have it: the conclusion to the story. After eight redrafts and more changes than I care to mention, it's done. By Jove, it's finally done. (Only took more than a month mind…) Now, even with so many changes, I'm not 100% sure I like the end result. I hummed and harred over so many possibilities and I still can't say I fully agree with my characters' reasoning's. It's insane really just how close I got to throwing my laptop out the window. Still, I hope you enjoy this final instalment and I shall take no responsibility for any dramatic surges in emotion, haha.

Musical recommendation: Thomas Newman – Coffey on the Mile.

Well, for the last time, on with the show.

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Both can feel it; the inevitability of what is waiting for them at the top of their climb. Hope, desire and anticipation role into one, and whilst perhaps these are ones that compliment her growing excitement, they are tainted by a dread of several kinds.

Worry gnaws at her, questions beginning with 'what if…?' and ending in scenarios that she doesn't wish to think too greatly upon. Anxiety swells as she frets over what Naga will tell her; what the reasons are for her even being here. Robin prays that the answer will be something meagre, that perhaps the Divine Dragon simply made a mistake and will soon rectify it. She dismisses the idea as soon as she thinks it, so certain she is that that will not be the case. Though not a God, Robin does not believe Naga could so easily make such an erroneous decision.

Her head turns so that she can see Chrom, and feeling her eyes on him, he gives her a smile. She can tell that he knows she will see past the false pleasantry, to the emotions hidden behind it, but she appreciates the gesture all the same. He is being brave, and much though she commends him for it, something in that smile makes her heart break for him.

That adds another emotion to the mix: Guilt. She can tell herself all she wants that she is not supposed to be here, but it does not lessen the feeling anymore so. All she has done is reopened his wounds she suspects never fully healed, poured alcohol onto them and now is leaving him to nurse them himself.

Even if this realm's Robin was to return, it would do him no good. Once again will he plagued with seeing the woman he wants, but will forever be unattainable, worsened by the fact that her being here has granted him a taste of what that life would have been like.

She questions whether it would be better if the other Robin did not return, that maybe that would allow this Chrom to finally let her go. One look at the wistfulness in his eyes is enough to tell her no, the finality of death, that never seeing Robin again, would hurt more than anything else.

She thinks of her Chrom back home, wondering what emotions it is that plays on his features. Has she become only a memory as Emmeryn has, thought of with affection and longing, but is now a healing wound rather than one that hurts with every breath? Does he wonder if she is dead, and in that, does he mourn for her? Or has he accepted that as fact, and seeks to continue his life as well as he can? In a way, she hopes that if truly believes her gone, then he is not suffocating in his emotions. That he finds happiness in seeing her features in their children and can think of her without sorrow. Her head shakes in a silent denial. Chrom had learned to with Emmeryn's death, but never had he truly accepted it.

As her thoughts conflict, she bites her lip and is startled when she feels her hand be squeezed lightly.

"If you continue to think so hard, you'll surely give yourself a headache," Chrom says and she feels her lips tug into a smile.

"I wish I could blow out my thoughts as easily as snuffing a candle sometimes," she says in reply.

"Are they that bad?"

Robin sighs and gestures no with her head. "No, not exactly. I just keep wondering what my life will be like when I return home. If I even go home."

"I imagine it will be no different to here save for the important differences, of course," Chrom reassures.

She hums softly and takes a moment to look at him. Here beside her walks a Chrom, who had at most received a strong friendship with Robin, but had missed her as truly as a lover would. Who, even after two long years, had never ceased looking for her and had been overjoyed at seeing her again. If that is a dear friend's reaction, then how could she ever think that her husband's would be anything less?

Tears well up in her eyes then. She cannot regret having sacrificed herself, that that one decision had spared humanity from Grima's wrath, but gods, she feels horrified at herself. How easily she had disregarded Chrom's concerns, stating that her life was not worth the hundreds of millions her act would save. How simply she had valued her life as nothing more than a means to the end, romanticising her sacrifice as being the greatest act of love, that all their futures would be a better one without her selfishness dooming it one day.

She thinks of that kiss he'd surprised her with on the beach. How fiercely he had embraced her, horror and anger raging on his face that she'd so calmly mentioned her death. The aftermath of Lucina's judgement and how he had never thought it would be possible, but in that moment, he had almost hated Lucina for even daring to question the strength of their relationship. She remembers being the one to pull him close then, telling him that he should hate her too; she had been the one to hold Lucina's blade steady and aim it at her heart. At the end of the day, she was just the tactician – the physical embodiment of the plans and strategies. It was him who was the important one.

She had been quick to refute his claims of her being so much more, wishing he could have seen that her acts were not because she didn't love them, but because she did and did so dearly. So sure that her choices were the right ones, she had nary given a thought to her own death. It would be coming for her one day anyway, and it was a privilege not given to many to be the decider of how to die. And what better way to die than protecting the very things she held above all else?

It's only when Chrom brushes his thumb across her cheek does she realise she's crying.

"Robin? Hey, what's wrong?"

She hiccups as her sobs catch in her throat and the pain of missing her Chrom, her children, her friends – everything – tears her apart all over again. "I'd thought myself so noble; making that decision, but what if I can't get back home now? What if I had died?" Her hand swipes across her eyes, her sleeve soaking up tears that she is sick of shedding.

"Don't," Chrom softly shushes. "You didn't die, and there is every possibility you can return home."

He tries for a smile, but it wavers and she can see his eyes becoming filled with tears, that very possibility of one death being all too very real for him. Her guilt has her swallowing uncomfortably, not wanting to look at him for she knows she is the cause for his sorrow.

"Hey. I'm the emotional one here, the post of crying far too much has already been filled." She holds his hands in hers as she jests, and she's happy to see him give the desired result of a half-hearted chuckle. Naga's grounds lays directly ahead of them now, and much though a kind of relief fills her, so too, does the want to just stay here with this Chrom a little while longer.

Chrom's head turns to the direction she's already facing and she notices how the life seems to disappear from him a little. "No time like the present, right?"

Robin faces him, her face filled with a hundred emotions. "I'm in no immediate hurry."

He smiles, but exasperatedly. He's always been able to read her well, and the eagerness she feels is surely present in one of the myriad of feelings passing across her features. "It is beautiful up here."

"Might as well enjoy it," Robin says, her steps slowing to barely a snail's pace.

His smile tells her he knows what she's doing, but he appreciates it all the same. Pace matching hers, they amble across the wide plain of grass, neither not commenting on the zig-zag approach they have taken to walking, taking as much time as they physically can. She doesn't object when Chrom wraps his arm around her, holding her close to his side; her own is tight around his waist.

Even with their unconventional method to avoid walking linearly, soon the steps leading to Naga's temple is before them, holding promises of home and the prospect of brutal truths. Untangling slightly so that only their hands stay together, both Tactician and Lord enter the sacred space.

It is just as majestic as Robin remembers, the pearlescent blues and greens almost unearthly, gleaming as though the glass harnesses light within its structures. Now, free that she is from Grima's mark, the calmness and serenity the others had spoken of whilst here flows through her, instantly soothing and relaxing the tension in her mind and muscles. No longer a vessel of Fell blood, she is welcomed and embraced.

When Robin's eyes eventually fall to the altar, she is simultaneously surprised and yet oddly not, to see Naga waiting before them. It is little wonder she is oft mistaken for a God: she radiates the same ethereal tranquillity the temple does, her hair and dress softly rustling as though swathed in a gentle breeze.

Naga inclines her head as they step forward, her face as impassive as always. "Greetings, my children. You need only ask me your questions and I shall give the answer you seek."

Robin bows, both in respect and in thanks, but she is frowning when she looks to the manakete. "I mean not to be rude, but surely you are already aware of what my questions are, and why I am here?"

"Indeed, but I shall only indulge the information you wish to know. Truth can be as relieving as it can be a most grievous burden to bear," Naga says and much though she is turned towards Robin, it is to Chrom her words are directed.

"You refer to what the other Robin's life, don't you?" Robin asks.

"Yes."

Robin too turns to Chrom then, silently questioning whether he wishes to know. The Lord bites his lip, and though she knows he has considered so many possibilities already, for one of them to be true would be far worse a fact to live with than the illusion of hope. Sometimes, it is better to live with hope, and the torment that shadows the optimism than to live with no hope at all. And yet, she can see the conflict he battles with, that perhaps just knowing would release him from the burden of such longing.

"If you will allow it, milady, I would first wish to ask a question of my own. With whatever answer you give, it is likely the fate of the other Robin will be revealed in it," Chrom says with a sigh. "You sent Robin here though here is not where she belongs. Why?"

Naga closes her eyes. "Concern worries your heart, Awakener. My answer will almost certainly give you more than that regarding your question."

"I know," Chrom says assuredly.

"Very well," Naga acquiesces and her eyes move so that they can rest on Robin. "It is true that your presence here is no mistake. As you are aware, time does not follow one path, but rather assumes separate stands – individual, yes, but free to bind and intersect one another. You are but only one of many different Robins, and though your features and decisions mark you different, you are all one and the same. I chose you, Robin, as though your life varies from the Robin who belonged here, you are similar in ways more than one. In appearance you are identical and so too are you the same in your heart."

"In hearts? But we have different children and partners…" Robin remarks.

"Indeed," Naga agrees, "but in measurement for love of the man beside you now, there is no difference."

She sees Chrom go still, his eyes going wide. "But that doesn't answer why exactly I'm here. It's not like I can replace the other Robin."

"No, my child, but you have offered a reprieve from the sorrow. The Robin from this time was unable to give her goodbyes before she departed. I sought only a chance that those last goodbyes may be given," Naga says.

"You dumped me here, confused and angry, away from my loved ones, just to say goodbye and leave again? If anything, I only made things worse!" Robin yells, ashamed after to have lost her temper so easily, but unable to regret speaking her mind. "If you wanted to grant closure, why not just bring the other Robin back and let everyone continue on with their lives?"

"That would be had I been able."

It's Chrom who speaks then, his head facing the ground and his voice strained. "Robin's not coming back, is she?"

Naga's stoic face becomes one of deepest regret, and though the human emotion is surprise enough, Robin is astounded and fearful of the hesitance Naga shows. "I am sorry."

The Lord nods, a slow, weighty movement that almost seems to become laden with every ounce of pain. His head tips back and though his eyes are closed, Robin can see the way his face crumples, the way his hands clench and unclench, as though trying to grab onto anything that can act as anchor.

Robin opens her mouth, but no words come. Not even saying his name is in her capabilities – how could it help to hear the voice of the woman now confirmed gone. Years of relying on instinct, the sense of movement around oneself has Chrom holding his own hand up, halting her mid-step. In the ethereal blue and green light, the marks of his tears are more pronounced, and harder to watch.

His pushes his hands through his hair, breath hissing in sobs and gasps and when he shakes his head and turns, getting outside is the only rational thought in his head; every other is the urge to scream in denial, to shake and yell and vent his grief to every listening ear. And to cry as if enough collected tears could be used as a bargain to bring her back. His feet touch the open plain and without care he drops to his knees, sobbing incoherently, begging, pleading to whoever is listening that not even his own life is too high a price to pay, just please, please bring her back

Inside the temple, Robin still stares after him, the echoes of his footstep fading until only silence meets her ears. It's only then that Robin says, in barely a whisper, "How? How did she die?"

"Her wounds became greater than what her body could handle against the fell dragon. Even if she had not sacrificed herself, it would have almost been a certainty that she would have ceased living."

"And now I'm here; wearing the face of a woman no longer alive. You really think that was a good move?" Robin says, trying to keep the bite out of her tone.

"I could not have bared for my child to live any longer with his regrets. Chrom is the Exalt, and as of such, Ylisse requires a ruler who can address her needs before their own. There is a strength to Chrom seldom others possess and it is only without his regrets that Ylisse will benefit from it," Naga replies.

Robin shakes her head. "And you don't think hope was enough to let him be a good ruler? How can it be better to live with the death of a loved one opposed to believing that someday they may return?"

"A life cannot be lived when the future yet to come is already filled with the desire of wanting the days long past. Hope is viewed with such positivism, a balm that softens the dread of tomorrow's dawn. We do not see how it can just as easily be a thorn, one requiring removal before healing can begin. By you being here, the possibility of closure can be given when no longer weighted with hope or burdened with the longing of another life," Naga says.

The tactician scoffs, uncaring if her actions aren't particularly respectful. "So you'd rather Chrom acted upon his feelings and got them out of his system? And then, magically, he'll be cured of me and can be the great Exalt you want him to be?" She crosses her arms. Great job there, Naga…

"Yes," the divine dragon says.

Robin stares at her. For all her believed wisdom, she cannot help but think that the manakete's understanding of human behaviour is rather warped. "But what about all the others that Robin loved? Morgan? Gaius?"

"Gaius has made peace with her passing, having witnessed the blow that was her sentence, and Morgan is a paragon of optimism, his life will continue as best as can be hoped for."

"So I'm here purely for Chrom. Doesn't his marriage to Sumia mean anything to you?"

Naga doesn't blink, unfazed by the plethora of emotions radiating off Robin. "I am not bound by the moral laws mankind have enforced upon themselves. I see what is reflected in both your hearts and it is your own virtues that restrain you."

The calmness in Naga's voice only makes Robin infuriated. She's not some pawn to be dumped and used wherever the dragon bloody chooses! How can Naga be so blasé about it all? Does morality and infidelity not adhere to her gamut of good and evil? Robin looks up at Naga, her serene demeanour and stoic expression; so distanced from humanity, its intrinsic natures have seemingly eluded her.

It is only when Naga hums, as though thoughtful, does Robin realise her thoughts have not been entirely contained to her own mind.

"I cannot claim to longer understand emotions, Robin, so long has it been since I used them last, but not even thousands of years has made me immune. Baptised in my fire, Chrom is the closest to a son that I will know, and thus I wish to see him content. Would you not desire the same for your own child?"

Robin doesn't hesitate. "Always."

"Then perhaps a greater clarity to my motive can be seen." For a moment, Robin is sure that Naga is smiling. "When you are ready to return, you need only call my name," Naga says, her voice fading as so too does her body as it dissipates into nothing more than whips of blue and green.

A period of time passes whereby Robin simply stares where Naga had been only moments before. The divine dragon's name is on her tongue, just waiting to be said out loud. Would it be better to leave now? To let Chrom grieve cleanly without her presence skewing his emotions, tempting his desires and leaving him with guilt? She opens her mouth.

And closes it. She's his friend first and foremost; she's not going to leave him now. Naga's words play in her mind. What happiness would she be giving him if she were to desert him now? Her lip is caught between her teeth as her eyes glance between the doors and where Naga stood. Home is so close it's almost tangible. But right now, this Chrom needs her more than her own.

She shakes her head and makes her way outside.


The heavy marble doors close behind Robin as she steps outdoors, the dull thud a sound surely Chrom heard, but he makes no move to acknowledge her presence. She's known him for so long; in a way, he was the first thing she ever knew; but she doesn't know what to say to him now. She wonders if her voice is exact to the other Robin's and if sat out here, he's been imagining it. Would it be a comfort to hear it again, or a reminder of all that's lost?

Slowly, she moves closer to him, dropping down to take a seat on the stairs. Chrom continues to look out to the horizon, his face cupped between his hands, elbows digging into his knees. He sighs then, eyes closing and it's so utterly defeated, Robin is even more so a loss of how to comfort him.

On that horrid night, when Emmeryn's death had been raw and tender, on those bitter days when news of a fallen comrade had hung over the camp, it had been Chrom who had comforted her as much as she had done for him. With death weighing over them, heavy with guilt and suffocating with regrets, it had been somewhat a reassurance to hold one another close and be so, so grateful that they still could.

"If… If I'd just gotten there sooner. If I had landed that final blow…" His voice cracks as his breath rattles with supressed tears.

She doesn't tell him that it wouldn't have made a difference, her death had been signed as soon as she'd entered the battle. Instead, her hand touches his shoulder, only a soft press, but enough for Chrom to turn to her. His tear soaked eyes have her wanting to cry, hating to see him in so much pain, so she pulls him close, wrapping her arms tight around his shoulders and feeling him tremble as he grips her coat. Combing her hand through his hair, she presses a kiss to his crown the way she had to Lucina when a friend's death had left her inconsolable.

Her shoulder is damp, but she doesn't register it. Only concern shows on her face when Chrom takes a heaving breath and pulls away from her with an apology.

"Don't be silly," she softly admonishes and though only a few words, Chrom's face crumples. Somehow she doubts that an accent would be much help; neither one of them much in the mood for levity.

He takes a few breaths, keeping his face tilted to the ground. "Did…" He swallows. "Are you able to... Go…?"

Robin nods and though his eyes are downcast, Chrom drops his head even further, perhaps having already known the answer. His voice is low and words mumbled, but she hears it all the same when he whispers in the voice of a man who is already resigned to the fact, "I don't want you to go."

It's her who apologises then, and if it is possible to feel a heart breaking, then that is what her own must be doing.

"Before you do go, can I… I mean, only if fine by you of course…"

He doesn't need to finish for her to grasp the semantics, so instead she only asks, "Are you sure?"

His eyes lift to her, and though red rimmed and with more sadness that she can bear, there too, is a certain resolve to them. And how she admire him for it, the strength that she doubts many others would show. "I thought about it, about Sumia and Ylisse and yet, even with morals and laws telling me no, I look at you and it just doesn't seem to matter." He laughs but it is a bitter sound without humour. "What's wrong with me?"

"Everything," she says in jest, holding his face in her hands. Though she smiles gently, her thoughts are of Sumia.

If roles were reversed, would she be so forgiving towards a husband whose affections didn't belong to her? Would she smile sadly as she can too easily imagine Sumia does, knowing that he does love her, but never in the same way that she does him?

What must Sumia already think, watching her husband search endlessly for a woman who is not his wife? Had Sumia trusted the other Robin when it would be only her and Chrom swarmed in reports, theories and maps for countless hours with naught but candlelight guiding their eyes?

She thinks of the Pegasus knight's kind ways, her ability to always see the good in every situation; a trait Robin had always admired. Not even in her realm, where Gaius's mishaps or Cynthia's stumbles had been daily occurrence, they had never caused anything other than a close of her eyes and a soft sigh before she would reopen them and greet the problem with a smile and caring hand.

She remembers having come across Olivia, her and Cordelia commenting on Chrom's charm and appealing features. She had known they had meant it in nothing more than idle speculation, but all the same, Robin had deliberately sought out Chrom and kept him close – not that he had minded. Never would she believe Chrom unfaithful, but interest from two beautiful females and regardless of all counter arguments, she had still felt threatened.

And then there is Chrom himself. Would he be able to look at his wife for the rest of his days, knowing he betrayed her? Or will the desire for Robin dissolve when he can finally act upon them and let them go?

"And nothing," she finishes. "I'm not advocating this as an excuse, but you are only human at the end of the day."

Chrom's emotions may well be a reflection of her own; teeth worrying at his lip and lines of conflict creasing between his eyebrows, desire darkening his eyes and hands stirring restlessly, seeking the feel of the person before them without morals or cloth to bar their touch.

She can't deny the urge to lean forward and kiss him, feeling no shame in recognising that fact. He wears the face of her husband, and though she knows he's not, that doesn't change how she feels about him. Her attraction resembles that of a wave – an untameable, sudden surge that holds her captive and often leaves her breathless. She's always willing to this kind of surrender though.

But Robin doesn't move, glad to feel that even after years of receiving that same lustful gaze, she's not immune to the pleasure it brings, that quivering thread of excited anticipation.

His body leans forward a fraction of an inch before recoiling back, the sway of his movements the physical embodiment of his ever-shifting conscience. No reason would ever justify his actions, and though there is a voice that tells him what others do not know will not hurt them, he quells it. But he wonders what would be the lesser of emotions to spend his days living with? The guilt of having kissed a woman other than his wife, or not having kissed the woman before him now?

With careful, precise movements, he presses his hands to her hips, sliding along the fabric of her camisole to lay spread against her back, savouring the softness of her feminine curves and the muscles that marks her a seasoned warrior. His touch slow, he watches her face, absorbing the signs that tell of her pleasure, unable to cease the descent of desire which stirs in him. If only time could wait for him, suspend its indefinite progression so he may spend a moment of his existence understanding and unravelling this beautiful woman before him.

Only with her breaths does she move, her body still save for her eyes that follow the path his hands make as they curve under her breasts and rest atop her shoulders. His fingers stop at the clasp of her coat and she nods, barely a full tilt but enough to encourage him to continue. It's with the memory of her stood completely bare than Chrom touches her, finding it only spurns his desire further when he skims the beauty mark peeking out above her top. He's seen her uncloaked many a time before, but never has he touched her quite like he is now, and that realisation is a heady one.

The warm air is pleasant as her coat falls, pooling around her waist, yet she shivers as he removes his gloves and runs the pads of his fingertips across her clavicle. Her hands stay firmly by her sides, allowing for him to touch and explore her body without her distraction. She could tilt her head close to his and trace her tongue around his ear before breathing softly onto it, bringing forth his throaty growl. Or she could slip her fingers beneath his shirt, knowing how sensitive he is to her touch, biting down on his lip as she teases and circles around certain areas, steadily drawing nearer to where he needs her touch the most, knowing that in response, he would pull her closer and kiss her all the more desperately. But she remains still; he doesn't know her body as she does his, and his touch, so very soft and delicate, reminds her of their wedding night when he had treated her like glass, smiled when finding her weakness – she gasps now as he nips gently at her pulse – and taken pleasure in her hitched breaths.

Even expectation does not prevent her sound of surprise when Chrom pulls her close and kisses her hard. The sudden change of pace catches her off guard, but she welcomes it all the same, returning the kiss with equal vigour. His arms circle tightly around her waist, as though she'll disappear if he doesn't hold her strongly enough and given the path befallen to the other Robin, she can hardly blame him.

Unlike before, where there had been a certain reserve to him, his kiss mimics his hold – tight, desperate and completely captivating her senses. And unlike before, where she had allowed him to be in control, she's the one to take dominance now. She rises up to throw her arms around his shoulders and swing her leg over his to straddle him, pressing herself close and smiling wolfishly when he gasps. There's no hesitance to him now and he sucks her bottom lip and tugs at it with his teeth before tracing the outline with his tongue. Both are careful to not leave any marks though.

She has his cloak removed and belts thrown carelessly aside before she pulls back to catch her breath and hook her fingers under his tunic's hem to add it to the other items. Chrom exhales heavily as her mouth presses to his chest, a hand laying atop his heart as the other dips between muscles, following every dip and curve. His eyes watch her, heavily lidded, as she discovers him all over again, seeking to feel every inch of the man she's been so long without. She stills however as one scar draws her attention more than others. Even though time has healed it to a puckered line, Robin knows it'll never fade entirely to white. Did Sumia expend her staff as she has seen every other sage, falcon knight and war cleric had? Had she went to bed that night and maybe hated Robin even just a little, her friend having almost killed her husband?

Chrom's hands cup her face then, bringing her back to his level before giving her a soft kiss that eases the guilt she expects the other Robin had been swallowed up by. Their passion having abated, Robin leans her head against him. Fitting there so perfectly, he could easily believe the curve where his shoulder meets his neck had been made just for her. And while his hands stroke her back, he takes the time to look at her: the straight nose, pointed chin, long eyelashes and white hair. He can't deny the part of him that wonders how it would have felt to make love to her, to see her face fill with pleasure because of him and feel the same rush that would be a result of her. But, with her in his arms, he is content. Not happy, as his simple musing lead to questions with answers that are ambiguous and painful, but not sad either for at long last, he is able to freely embrace her, even for the last time, and know that when he finally releases her from his arms, his regrets and longings will leave with her.

That thought gives him the strength to loosen his arms should he wish, but for now, while he can, he'll hold her until the stars above are the colour of her hair.


The grand temple of Naga is silent as Tactician and Lord stand before the altar, their hands, shoulders and arms pressed close to one another; Robin to grant whatever last comfort she can and Chrom to savour every moment of her touch while he still has the ability. Their presence alone is enough to alert the Divine Dragon, but it only when Robin calls her name does she appear, as serene as ever.

"Are you ready, Robin?" Naga asks, one pale, long arm stretching out towards her, the slim hand curved slightly as though awaiting Robin's hand to be placed into it.

The Tactician nods, her shoulders square and expression one of complete readiness. She doesn't know what to expect, and though in any other situation such wonder would leave her grappling for some control, in Naga's presence, she thinks of a mother's embrace; that comforting reassurance that their arms make the receiver immune to anything other than their love and security.

"I am," Robin says but before she takes her steps towards the ethereal entity, she turns fully to Chrom. She releases the breath she hadn't known she had held when he smiles, not a trace of sorrow or dreadful longing tainting the gesture. Her heart lifts in response, glad to hold the belief that even long after her presence has faded from the world, his happiness is a goal that can one day be achieved. His eyes are damp with tears though, but that is to be expected; she is returning to her Chrom and yet she is still ungracefully using her sleeve as a handkerchief. For a moment, humour glitters in his gaze, and he knows he is thinking the same thing her Chrom had said to her upon catching the terrible habit. "And you wonder why I don't think you a lady…"

She doesn't say goodbye, and he doesn't speak of how much he'll truly miss her. Her hands rest on his chest and his cup her face, their foreheads now touching as their sides had just before.

"On paper and in the peoples' eyes, I may not be married to you, but in my heart, you're always going to come first to me. You always have and you always will." His voice is barely a whisper as he speaks, as though saying a secret meant only to be heard by her ears alone.

Her lips press against his cheek, her own voice soft in his ear. "Even though I will not be here to tell you it every day, know that I will always love you, Chrom. Always."

He kisses her then, so sweetly and so softly, she falls in love with him all over again. "Always," he repeats back to her and she smiles at him one last time before finally stepping over to where Naga calmly waits.

Her hand placed in Naga's, she hears the manakete's promise to return Chrom safely to the palace and softly and the gentle words of thank you. Robin echoes the gratitude, her head turning to see Chrom. She catches his sad smile and when she blows him a final kiss, she leaves him with her grinning form as he catches it and presses it to his heart before they all vanish in a shower of blue and green.


A gentle wind rustles past, lifting stray strands of grass and fallen leaves, mussing hair and catching clothes and carrying the sweet smell of blossoming spring flowers. Cicadas whir and chirp and buzz their evening songs and distantly, an owl adds her voice to the sounds.

The tickle of grass against her neck and not entirely unpleasant bed made from nature are familiar to her, the sensations having been felt in what feels like an eternity ago. She takes a breath in, feeling the cool air expand her lungs, raise her stomach and it elicits a smile on her face, taking the moment to simply appreciate her aliveness.

Her left hand trails through her current bed and she knows intrinsically that she is back in that field she had been found so many years ago, only with some changes. There is no brightness shining behind her eyelids, turning the field of her gaze completely red behind closed eyes. No warmth of the sun caresses her face, and complete with the sounds of nightfall, it's not exactly hard to guess she's arrived at a time other than the mornings as she had those times before.

But even the moon marking her arrival, that doesn't explain the slight spicy, pine-tree, woody smell that she has only ever associated with certain memories. Nor does it give her answers to why she can faintly hear another's breaths in tandem with her own. And it certainly doesn't explain the hand holding her right, their thumb making lazy circles on the back of her palm as it has so many times previously.

She's absolutely, definitely, positively certain, no doubt about it sure of who is lying beside her and her euphoria has every nerve, pulse and sense going erratic. But Robin only grins, sends a silent thank you to the Divine Dragon, turns her head and opens her eyes.

His head is cushioned by his right arm, legs crossed at the ankles, eyes closed, chest rising and falling and a smiling. A smile that is so wonderfully large, even closed, his eyes are crinkled at the corners. The picture of perfect ease. Her chest warms, blazing in an inferno that she holds close and embraces, her heart swelling with it so much that it can't be contained and begins to spill from her eyes. She wants to laugh, so joyous she is with emotion. Even as her hands trace over his face: the smooth planes of his cheeks, curve of his nose, dark eyebrows and beginning of stubble decorating his strong jaw, she just knows that this perfect, dorky king is her perfect, dorky king.

She opens her mouth, unable to fight her grin; not wanting to even if she could and says cheekily, "There are better places to take a nap than on the ground, you know."

He chuckles and the sound is so utterly incredible that she wishes it was possible to capture such a sound, to listen to it at her leisure whenever the real thing isn't available. "I suppose you are the authority on such matters, but I think you're wrong."

"Oh?" she asks.

Chrom opens his eyes, the warmth on his expression captured in his gaze too. He looks like a man who has found the fated pot of gold at the end of the rainbow and it makes her feel ridiculously giddy. He takes her hand that is still resting on his face and presses a kiss to the band circling her finger, sighing in perfect contentment. "Anywhere I am with you is the best place to be, and if that includes the ground, then I'll take it and do so happily."

Robin nods sagely, smiling, and he half-expects a witty comeback. He's pleasantly surprised when she instead tucks her head into his neck and hugs him close. "Gods, I love you. I love you so much, you incredible person…"

Her cries are equal parts sobs of relief and gratitude and pure laughs of happiness. Chrom shakes underneath her, his own arms tight around her waist and she knows his emotions are just as mad and as wonderful as hers. Her head lifts and she only looks at him for a second before his weaves his hand into her hair and his mouth is on hers.

And yes, though the other Chrom's kisses were wonderful, her Chrom's are beyond such description. To feel him responding to her, kissing her the way only he'll ever know how to, and saying between breaths how much he has missed her, there's no other feeling that can compare to it. There'll be time to ask him later how he knew where to find her, but she can guess a certain manakete may have given a sign.

Afterwards, when they lay on their sides, cradling the other's face, tracing the angle of an elbow or following the line of a wind-swept lock of hair, he tells her about their family and the kingdom, of a recent birth and the children of those from the future that makes them all feel old. He mentions little Lucina and how Robin may have been apotheosized given Chrom and the Shepherds were the one to tell her stories about her mother. Robin tilts her head, thinking that she has quite the legacy to live up to and he laughs, so glad to see the gesture his daughter has made by the woman who she inherited it from.

And later than that, when the stars have winked out and it is the dawn's light that looks upon the couple, she thinks of the other Chrom. Her head tipped to the sky, she prays for his happiness and promises he'll always be in her heart. Chrom stands then, holding his hand out and smiling when she accepts. And as they dance and kiss and laugh because sitting still does not adequately express their joy, sometimes – no matter how silly – just indulging in whims with the one you love above all else, it can be said that simplicity really is nice.


To every reviewer and person who favourite-d, followed or even gave this story any attention, you have my dearest and most sincere thanks. If I don't reply immediately to reviews, (I'm going to be on a Cardiac Ward and Emergency Admissions Ward for the next 12 weeks so…) know that I do truly appreciate every word. Thank you for reading and best wishes to every one of you.