Chapter Eleven:
"You've been rather distant recently."
"Forgive me, Chrom. There has been much on my mind."
"I can tell. You have a child on the way."
"It is not only that. I bear a burden that I am not used to carrying."
"Do you mean your responsibility of striking down the fell dragon?"
"… Yes, it is indeed a heavy yoke."
"Do not forget, Robin. We are two halves of a greater whole. Though the Shepherds may leave you, I will always be at your side."
"… Thank you."
The Shepherds were on the warships that Plegia had lent to them for the Valmese campaign. Seeing as how the nation had essentially crumbled upon itself with the arrival of Grima and that Ylisse never shared the most comfortable truce with its neighboring state, the boats were sitting in Regna Ferox's port, waiting to be used. Thus, Khan Flavia saw it fit that they serve as transports to carry the Feroxi forces and the Shepherds to the island.
Many of them knew that this was their last mission. Families spent their time together and found solace in each other's presence. They ate together, laughed together, and for some they cried together.
But for Robin, it was a fight with the wind. On one hand, he wanted to grind the ship to a halt and make amends with Cordelia. On the other, Grima needed to be dealt with. There was no time to stop and try to come to an understanding. Her argumentative demeanor had certainly stopped, and from what he could tell she was more than ready to simply sit and talk with him. But he found it impossible. Doing just that would no doubt make the situation harder.
A voice jarred him from his thoughts.
"Father, are you alright? You have barely been in your quarters."
Morgan had sidled up next to him as he watched from the bow of the ship, searching for the speck of an island in the distance through the night. They were en route to Origin Peak, where Naga said that they would be able to finally strike at Grima. He felt his shoulders stiffen and he cursed the suffocating tightness of the ship. The quarters in the Plegian ships from the Valmese campaign seemed more cramped than he remembered it and the ship was far too small for his liking.
He sighed again. Talking with the others had simply become difficult.
"It's getting late. Won't you come and rest? I'm sure mother and Severa will be happy to see you." Chrom must have asked her to try and talk to him.
He wanted to speak. He wanted to go down to their room and embrace them as a family. There was still time, as they were expected to land in several days, but after seeing Cordelia like that, he was unsure of himself. He knew that she was angry at him when he first told her and that now was the time to talk to her, but he found himself thinking back upon Naga's divination and he could only remain silent.
"I brought you some food." Morgan produced a small cloth from her cloak and unwrapped it, revealing some bread and cheese. "I know it's not much, but you can't go onto the island without at least something in you. I mean, an army fights on its stomach, right? So you can eat this and we can talk about what our plan will be when we land."
He found himself wishing she would stop. He could almost hear the girl frown, and she should have known that their plan was prepared well in advance. Scouts reported that Aversa and the Grimleal had prepared a defensive for them, overlooking two side-by-side valleys. To assault only one would allow the other side to reinforce it and allow them to freely rain down artillery. Splitting into two groups would cut their strength in half and run the risk of being overwhelmed. Thus the plan was to feign that the Shepherds and Feroxi were in one force. Once they had been fooled, the real Shepherds would cut through the other valley and take out the key artillery while making a straight beeline to Aversa and kill her.
Again, Flavia's forces would bear the brunt of the burden and Robin apologized to them. The Khans simply laughed.
"O-Or we don't have to talk about this war," Morgan continued to try. "We can just talk about how you and Mother met. You still haven't told me how you two fell in love."
He felt his eyes dip a little as he thought back to how they met and sighed. Morgan took this as a sign of failure.
"I… I guess I shouldn't have brought that up, huh…"
His felt his hand slide down to the grip of Gantrithor. The blade was resting in a sheath that Owain had crafted for him. The young man had asked for the measurements of the blade and set out to make it when they returned to Ylisstol. Robin supposed that he was excited to craft it, but as everyone saw how he and Cordelia had been in the moments before their final campaign, he was certainly not as bubbly as before.
"Be careful, Morgan," he finally spoke, his tone slow but betraying no emotions. "You're showing weakness."
"F-Father?"
He could tell that it was not the answer she was expecting. "As a tactician of a group of soldiers, your strategy is only as good as the soldiers who will follow it. Weakness will betray their confidence in you, and they are less likely to follow orders. It is one thing to show compassion, but take care to where you show weakness."
"I do not know why you speak of this now, Father. What do you mean?"
"Suppose you're a general." He brushed aside her question. "While leading a group of soldiers, you find that your line was pushed back and in the chaos you are cut off from the army and trapped behind enemy lines. Retreat is possible, but only if you are able to fight your way through enemy troops back to your line, which is as equally armed. Suddenly, the opposing army's general is exposed before you and you see an opportunity to exploit it. Defeating him is the objective of the battle and will result in victory. In terms of raw strength, both forces are equal. However, they have the numeric advantage. Even if you are able defeat him in one-on-one combat, his troops may cut you down before you can accomplish the deed."
"What do you do?" He had asked her many a question like this before. It was part of her training.
Morgan bit her lip, knowing that he was purposely distracting her. "… How many soldiers do I have with me?"
He tried not to count the amount of Shepherds in the boat. "Assume fifteen to twenty. You are unable to make a clear headcount."
"… And how far has the line retreated?"
"Roughly ten paces."
"How large are the armies?"
"It is irrelevant, but for now assume that there are roughly twenty enemy soldiers that you must cut down to return to your line, about two to three per pace."
"… I would push to our line and regroup. As a general to the army, my ability to lead is tantamount. If I were to fall, chaos would consume my soldiers and we would inevitably lose if they are unable to remain organized and disciplined. Also, the enemy general exposing himself to me could be a trap, not to mention having more soldiers than me. By retreating, I avoid the trap and survive so that I may regroup and continue to plan the battle."
He felt his eyes close as she gazed at him. "Was that the right choice?"
"It is a good choice among many other wise decisions," he had told her that many times in such cases. He was used to telling her that it was also wrong, but this time he remained silent.
"… But was it the right one, Father?"
"There is nothing wrong with choosing to try and live."
"But am I right?" she pressed.
"That depends on your circumstances, Morgan. And it is through your circumstances that you will be judged as strong or weak."
She slowly inhaled, obviously unhappy at his answer. "That is not a very fair question, Father."
"It was not meant to be."
"Then why did you even ask if the answer to it is not clear?" she was obviously angry, and he could hear the frustration arising from the anxiety of her broken family. "Why would you be so harsh teaching this lesson particular lesson?"
"In each and every war, man saw value in a resource, a plot of land, or an ideal and weighed his body against it. Circumstances." Robin calmly spoke, ignoring her obvious distaste. "Being able to identify those circumstances will carry you further than any strategy."
"And what of our current circumstances now?" She impatiently asked.
"Now, Morgan, we've been over this before," placing a hand in her tousled and messy red hair, he gently ruffled it. She usually enjoyed the gesture, but he knew that tonight she drew little comfort from it.
"The true circumstances of the battle are to be known only by the commander."
He would be strong now, and he would be strong when the moment finally came, but it was a strength that left a bitter taste in his mouth. Sighing, he produced a key from his coat pocket and handed it to Morgan.
"Father, what is this for?"
"Back in Ylisstol, there's a locked drawer in my desk. Once we go back, you can open it and see what's inside. I believe you'll find it very valuable to you, perhaps worth even more than Gantrithor."
"But father," Morgan was confused, "what can be worth more than a blade made from a dragon?"
"When you see what is inside, I believe you will agree with me."
Chrom knew Robin was hiding something from him. His friend had never acted so cryptic before. Given that he was never gifted at reading people, it was hard for him to pick out what was happening. But he knew from his conversation that Robin was not telling the whole truth.
Dust and smoke was beginning to settle in. Khan Flavia and Basilio were leading the assault on the western valley, the Feroxi troops steadily pushing through despite artillery fire. The sound of war was distant, the mountain in between smothering some of the noise.
Though he had seen many confrontations, Chrom had only experienced three full scale battles. There was the siege on Walhart's castle, his first failed campaign into Plegia, and then there was the second where Robin had come back. This would now be the fourth time where he would be a part of a battle larger than just his band of Shepherds and an enemy troop.
The tactician's plan was simple. With the feigned presence of the Shepherds with the Feroxi, Aversa would naturally divert her attention to them. But once they began fighting their way up the other side, Robin would force Aversa to choose between a larger, more dangerous force and her real objective, the Shepherds. Should she focus on the Feroxi, it would leave her open to attack from the east. If she turned her artillery against him, the well-trained and disciplined Feroxi would cut a path to her.
And with the first phase of the battle in motion, it was time to begin the second. He felt his grip on the sheathed Falchion tighten as he stood by Robin, watching the hard dirt path that they would take through the valley. His friend, however, seemed to look beyond the battlefield and the Shepherds were becoming restless.
The dust was beginning to become heavier and Robin finally moved. Stepping towards the right of the Shepherds, he drew Gantrithor and placed the tip of it into the dirt. Very slowly, he walked in front of them, dragging the blade through the dirt and drawing a line. Once he reached the other side, he placed the blade away and finally began to speak.
"You all have your orders. The Feroxi are taking the brunt of the artillery and have attracted the main force with our imposters. We are to cut through this valley, destroy their artillery and magic, and fall upon Aversa. Should she direct her forces at us, it will allow the Feroxi to push through and crush her in our stead. But before we begin, I have one request."
"Before you all is a line. All Shepherds who will side with me, step over."
A few of them started to move, but Robin spoke again, bringing them to pause. "Again, I remind you. Do not step over the line because you believe in my strategy." He began to move to the front of the column again, once again to Chrom's side and facing the field. "Only step over the line if you do not object to me."
"Robin, what are you doing?" the lord hissed at him. "This is not a part of the plan."
"Peace, Chrom." It was all he said to him, and after a short while Robin looked back.
The royal family and Robin's family crossed over. Tharja had crossed over as well, no doubt also resulting in her husband Stahl and Noire to come with her. Lon'qu stepped over because of his pride, much to Maribelle's distaste, who forbade Brady to cross. Henry seemed lost, torn between the chance to spill blood and Olivia's choice, ultimately siding with his wife while Inigo stepped forward. Finally, opening his eyes from deep thought, Gregor walked over and so did Say'ri.
His friend frowned. "This is enough to route the enemy, but not enough for victory," he said to the Shepherds. "We fight and win together, or we do not fight at all. Those that object to me, why do you hesitate? You boarded the ship, after all."
Chrom knew why about half did not want to cross over. They had seen how Robin had been and how much he changed compared to the past. It was as if this Robin was only a shallow imitation of his friend, driven solely by the destruction of Grima and ignoring everything else. No doubt Robin did not want to be like this and missed the friendships he had with them, but the lord knew that something inside held his true friend ransom.
But in the end the Shepherds remained silent. It was starting to become difficult to see through the smoke. Robin turned around to face the battlefield and drew Gantrithor, holding it down at his side. "Shepherds, you have new orders."
He started to walk off into the dust. "Do not cross the line."
The command confused him and the Shepherds stirred uncomfortably. "Robin, what do you mean?" His voice betrayed his own anger as he started to move after him.
"I mean, Chrom, that all Shepherds are to not participate in the battle." Robin did not stop walking. "Until they are unified again, their strength will remain divided and they shall cause each other to stumble. They will die because of it, and that is not something I will allow."
"Robin, by leaving us like this, you yourself are breaking the unity of the Shepherds!" he yelled, his friend's form almost lost to the storm around them. Sand and dirt stung the part of his face his arm could not cover. "Do you not remember what I said back at Mount Prism? I forbid you to go off alone like this!"
A harsh wind blew and the lord could only hear his friend's voice through the dust, forced to cover his eyes. "I appreciate your concern, Chrom, but they have revoked my status as Shepherd."
"Listen to me, Robin!" Chrom felt his hands clench, yelling in every direction around him. "I told you already! You're a Shepherd before anything else to me, dammit! You don't have to do this!" How was Robin even able to tell where he was going?
"My sole purpose as a Grandmaster of the Shepherds is to serve you by providing victory. I will give it you whether the Shepherds follow me or not."
"You're going to die out there! There are countless enemies and we don't know about reinforcements! Robin, listen to me, please!"
"It will certainly be difficult without the full force of the Shepherds, Chrom." The lord saw a brief glint of purple, but it was soon lost. "Yet I am war. I have known battle before you found me in that field and I have honed it in my travels. The enemy stands before me and I have long burned my boat. I will be victorious for you."
"Turn back and unite the Shepherds. I may have become a strong portion of your leadership, but do not forget that I joined under your banner."
He heard no more from him and the dust became unbearable. Chrom was forced to retreat. As he made his way back to the Shepherds, his mind churned until he could finally see ten paces in front of him and saw Lucina, staring at him for an answer.
He could say nothing at first. But he let his mind turn calm and dug for reasons. After what felt like an eternity to Chrom, he finally spoke.
"Shepherds, Robin is dying for us."
A murmur ran through the crowd.
"But more importantly, Robin is in denial. I have seen him plan strategies, and I have seen his positioning in each one of them. Every battle he has placed himself in the most dangerous of roles. If there was a weak point in strategy, he was there to make sure that it was not breached. If there was a spot where opposition was expected to be heaviest, he ran to it face first. And if there was ever an unfortunate surprise, he made sure to deal with it as swiftly as possible and return to the course of the plan."
He looked into the eyes of each Shepherd, especially those who had not crossed over, and found them unable to meet his gaze. No doubt they were remembering his better days. "Robin sees himself as expendable. But we need the strength that lies in his blade to achieve true victory, as otherwise we only live on borrowed time. He is not used to this and his mentality has not changed. He sees himself as a tool, a branch, an extension that can be cut off and replaced."
"This could not be any further from the truth." He placed his hand on the Falchion and drew it. "Let us be whole again today. Either we are the Shepherds, or we are individuals, and I have never won a battle singlehandedly."
"Do not hesitate. Step over."
The Shepherds moved as one.
He felt his frown lift into a smile, but he realized that something was wrong. Morgan and Severa's frantic looks clued him in.
Somehow, through the smoke and dust, Cordelia had gone ahead of them.
She was hoping he would talk to her, like he always did. He was always calm and peaceful after their one-sided arguments. He had a knack of never speaking, never fighting, but only accepting that she was angry. She would want the last word and he gave it to her. And when she was finally slowing down, when all her anger was spent, he would embrace her and finally talk with her. He would reveal facts that either slipped her mind or slowly reason with her. He would explain, he would try to understand, he would always make sure that she felt and knew his love for her did not change.
In the end Robin did not come back to her. She had tried to approach him when they were still on the boat. He was almost always at the bow of the shop, unmoving and watching the horizon. She knew he was there, waiting for either her or the island to come to him, whichever would arrive first.
She found herself distracted by the needs of her daughters. Equally distraught by their suddenly estranged father, they both sought the comfort of their mother and she found herself making the excuse that she could only give it to them. She gave no time for herself to go and try to at least reach out to Robin, to make amends with him.
But deeper in her heart were her own fears. She knew that she was wrong. She found that she was almost always wrong in the fights they had. Seeing him walk off into the distance with Chrom struggling to see through the dust, she knew that no matter what her own expectations were, she had to follow him. She would have no other chance to try to speak with him.
Hopping onto her pegasus, she guided it higher into the air until the smoke of the battlefield started to clear. Her eyes squinted down towards the ground, but it was difficult to see even the ground below her. Looking towards her left, she could see the arcing arrows and bolts of magic stemming from the valley on the right. A nearby fireball was blindly launched over the middle of the tall hill, the shot landing wide and harmlessly onto the other side of the valley in a blast. It fired again, this time landing upon a Feroxi soldier.
Then it ceased to fire. Cordelia flew towards where the magic had come from and she saw a body through the dust. It had fallen on its stomach, a small pool of blood beginning to stain the ground. She felt her heart stop. But as she examined it, she saw that its clothes hardly matched Robin's cloak. Looking past it, there was a charred body lying next to a whinnying horse.
Though the dust was covering Robin's advance, she could track him by seeing which source of artillery had stopped firing. He was using the smoke from their magic impacts against them. Scanning the haze, she continued to follow his progress.
And then she saw it. A brief flash of purple.
"Go!" she screamed to her pegasus, guiding it to where she last saw him. Her eyes watered as she moved through the dust, trying to pick out her husband from the trail of bodies he left behind. There was a bolt of lightning aimed not over the mountain but towards the ground. There was an even swifter strike from Gantrithor, its violet hue standing out against the smoke.
She had found him. "Robin!" she screamed. For a moment he turned around and looked at her, and she felt herself shiver at the sight of him.
Splatters of blood were on his cloak, and she worried over whose it was. But he turned away and she felt her heart crack.
"Robin, stop!"
He paid no attention to her, only closing the distance between the next two Grimleal, who failed to notice his presence. One was swiftly cut down at the gut, the other was impaled by a bolt of lightning Robin formed in his hands.
"Just stop! Please!" She was quickly gaining on him. He was quick on his feet, but it was no match for her-
"Look out!"
Drawing her eyes away from her husband, she froze as she stared down a sniper with arrow ready. Robin dashed over to the soldier and sliced into him, but not before she heard the twang of the bowstring. She tried to pull right, but the bolt lodged itself into the left wing of her steed, forcing it to whiny and descend uncontrollably. She let her lance fall to the ground below as she took hold of the reigns, trying to calm the beast and pull it into at least a bumpy landing.
As the pegasus crash-landed, she let herself be flung sideways, her body rolling on the rough dirt. She felt the sharp bits of gravel and sand dig into her, but she grimaced and used her gauntlets to stop. Looking back at her steed, its legs were injured and sporting numerous scrapes, its blood dying its white fur. It would not be able to fly without proper treatment, and they were separated from the rest of the Shepherds.
An arm picked her up from her side and stood her onto her feet before pulling her towards the cover of an abandoned ballista.
"You disobeyed orders, Cordelia," Robin said calmly, moving her under the cover of the siege weapon before making sure that her armor was still in one piece.
She bit her lip, doing her best to keep it from trembling. "No one can obey an order like that! You want us to watch you march to your death?"
"No, but I would hope that your duty would keep you with Chrom and our children."
"Damn my duties, Robin!" she pushed Robin's arm off of her and tried to look him in the eyes. His gaze was averted, as if refusing to acknowledge her. "I know that we have not been on the best of terms, recently, but…" it felt difficult to talk to him, "please, don't be like this!"
"I recognize that both of us are dissatisfied with the other. I will not be there to help you raise our daughters, and in your anger you have lashed out at me." He met finally met her gaze and she suddenly found that it was she who turned away. His eyes were full of accusation. "It is understandable. You need support in a time like this."
She wanted to say she was sorry, she wanted him to forget everything and just call her Cordy again, but she feared he would reject her apology. "And what about you? You carry a burden unimaginable by man."
"I will be okay, Cordelia." Satisfied that she was still in one piece, he turned away and moved out of the cover of the ballista, quickly making his way towards the next artillery source. "Retreat to the south." He yelled from a distance. "You will find the Shepherds there."
"Listen to me, Robin!" She chased after him. "You don't have to go alone like this!"
"You have your orders Cordelia. Will you obey them?"
"No! I will not!" her vision began to blur at the edges. "I… I made a poor decision that night, but I refuse to leave you again! Not when you need it the most!"
"You have no weapon and your steed is injured! What use are you to me in this battle?" He continued to run away from her.
She ignored her wounded pride and the ache in her heart. "I'm sorry, Robin!" she finally heard herself say it and Robin slowed to a stop. She collided into his back and wrapped her arms around him, crying into the back of his cloak. "Please… Robin… I'm sorry…"
His free hand gently rested against her gauntlet. "I know you are." She tried not to remember that day on the hill.
"Please, Robin… I know I'm being selfish, but I don't want you to go! I was so scared and alone when you left. To know that you will be gone, maybe forever, I… I'm afraid."
"When I am gone, the future will be brighter." Robin's hand closed tightly around hers, the only sign of weakness he afforded her. His voice was welcoming yet firm and his shoulders did not shake. "There will be no fear in the hearts of our children. They will grow up with joy and laughter. I may not be there for you or them, Cordelia, but what is the worth of my life weighed against those around me?"
"I know that it hurts. To see your family broken for the greater good, I know the pain of it too well. It has plagued me since that day, and it returns to plague me now that I know what I must do. Do not believe that you were ever alone in you fear and suffering."
She felt ashamed. She knew how foolish her resentment was, but to hear the full extent of it made her sob.
"But today, I ask not of the love you would so willingly give me. Today, Cordelia, I ask for your strength and resolve as a soldier."
"Robin, I… please…" she tried to calm herself.
"I need you to fight and deliver me to my death. I need you to help us ensure final victory, despite knowing that you will not receive what you truly want. Will you do it, Cordelia?"
She swallowed her tears. "I will be a soldier, Robin." She did her best to become still despite how it broke her heart to say it. "If... If it is the only way you shall accept me now... I will fight for your death."
Robin took a breath before slowly pushing Cordelia's hand from him. Stepping forward, he turned around and placed the tip of Gantrithor into the ground. His hands rested on the pommel of the blade, one over the other.
"Kneel, Cordelia, and renew your oath to Ylisse."
The lump in her throat came back. "Robin…" his eyes were determined but sorrowful.
"Renew them."
She slowly knelt, turning her gaze to the ground, and tried to speak. "I… I swear allegiance to Exalt and country. I freely lay my life and… and lineage at the altar of the… of the Halidom and…"
Tears dotted the dirt below her and she could say no more, unable to coax her voice to speak. Her husband patiently gazed at her, but he did not relent. "Continue."
"Robin, please… I… This…" she wanted to tell him that it was an impossible task, but she knew what he shouldered was greater.
"Can you continue?"
"Forgive me for faltering, Robin." She finally sobbed out. "I can only think of my own fears."
Slowly and carefully, he raised Gantrithor to her shoulder, laying the flat side down upon it. He then lifted it and placed it on her other one before bringing it back to his side.
"Then that will be enough, Cordelia." She tensed as the blade rested on her, but his words brought comfort. Looking back up, she saw that he had turned towards the battlefield. Aversa must have noticed that another force had begun to cut down the artillery units and began to regroup her forces, as the smoke was beginning to become thin.
"That will be enough."
Before him was a line of Grimleal, charging at the two of them. Robin, however, sheathed his blade. Cordelia rose to her feet, about to ask what he was doing, but she heard hoof beats coming from behind.
The dust had settled around the two of them, but it had yet to fully pass. Turning her head back, she saw Sully and Stahl burst forth from the smoke, the rest of the Shepherds following behind them.
A/N: I'll be honest. When I first planned this chapter way back when it was first released, this part of the story was just going to be a segue into the final battle. It would have pretty much been "aversa was slain, now we fight grima" and in fact, it was was practically just that in my notes.
And now look at it. It's a chapter all on its own. It feels almost like a filler. Maybe it is a filler. But it helps add some more tension between Robin and everyone else. The hardest part was writing Chrom's little speech, because I have a speech all planned out for the next chapter (and I've been working on it in little bits and pieces which somehow ended up at 10 pages of notes, quotes, and events), but I didn't exactly have one for this setting.
Speaking of the next chapter, I think I can say that although the result is the same, it probably changed the most out of any other chapter. And yes, unless I break it into two chapters (which I will probably release simultaneously), I expect it to be the last one, and then an epilogue.
But back to this one. It's kind of all about Robin developing a callousness to the pain while making what he feels are the right choices. He knows that Morgan wants him back as a father so he gives her a short moment of it, he knows that the Shepherds need to be united again for them to be a powerful force again, and he knows that Cordelia wants him back, though he cannot give her what she wants because of the stakes at hand. In fact, we even see that though Cordy just wants him to see her as his wife again, in a sense he refuses to fully forgive her because he fears it will cause weakness at the wrong time. There are a lot of things Robin wants to do, but he can't.
Also, in hindsight, I realize just how nicely this chapter goes with "Id (Sorrow)", the theme that plays during the Robin-Lucina judgment scene. Particularly the last segment, where Robin and Cordy talk.
Review time:
fairytale'sstormking: It's not so much about whether Cordy can forgive Robin, but whether he can forgive her.
FireEmblemMae: I won't comment too much on this, but I like happy endings too.
GuyBrush007: Yeah, it was. I was afraid that it almost too sudden, but in the end it felt just right. Also, dramatic irony is always enjoyable to write. Also, I was expecting a few more "bone of my sword" comments, but I'm okay with people liking the name Gantrithor.
Le Redhead Merchant: Yeah, all they get is a "they were loved very much by Robin" type of end, which felt kind of lackluster. Also, I didn't intend for Robin to get a sword when I first started writing, but it became a really cool idea and I was able to tie it into the idea of taming Grima's powers. And yes, canon territory is often some of the best territory to write in.
AbyssOfMemories: Hated wasn't exactly the overall feeling I wanted to pass on to the reader, but more of a dislike of Robin (which is a form of hate, I suppose). Point is I might have made that portion a tad bit too strong, but it's not a huge matter.
Personwhowritesandstuff:
A. Most likely true, but this is more about Robin and Cordy, so we don't see too much of Morgan in general.
B. Again, true. Chrom can get angry easily, but in terms of spite it's not something we see very often in canon.
C. Check your PM box.
D. Yeah. I admit that her perfectionism slipped my mind when I first started this piece.
Had I been able to work on D, Cordy would probably feel even better to write. As for more fluff, I have to apologize but this fic isn't really about fluff and feeling fuzzy. I like fluff too, but the initial outset of this story pretty much is the opposite of fluff. It's more about the type of raw pain that makes you cry.
Viral020: I know you didn't leave a review for the previous chapter, but you get a little bit more of Morgan in here. Sorry that she's not being the rubber band you imagine her to be, though, but she's trying. If only I was able to stick in some more stuff with Severa, but honestly her both avoiding and wanting to talk with him at the same time is kind of her character, anyway, so I guess it's fitting.
Anyway, after this, it's looking like we'll be at the last chapter, followed by an epilogue. I expect myself to probably tear up as I write.
I do not own Fire Emblem.
I look forward to your comments and criticisms.
And in case it doesn't come out by the holidays, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!
PS: I think you'll like what I have in store with that key.