Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem. Fire Emblem belongs to Intelligent Systems and Nintendo.
The journey to the capital took most of the rest of the day. By the time they'd arrived, the sun had fallen beyond the horizon. Only the tiniest sliver of golden orange remained in the sky to mark its passing.
Chrom had tried to catch her eye a number of times along the way, but Robin had managed to duck away every time he approached.
It was bad enough she'd broken her promise to him, even if she hadn't meant to, but breaking in front of him—
Robin hugged herself as she stared out the window without really seeing anything. That cold, empty place in her chest had grown so large. When she'd been back in Ylisstol, and even on the march out to Ferox, she'd nearly managed to forget it had existed at all.
Maybe that's why it hurt so much now.
She'd allowed herself to grow comfortable, to believe she was a part of something when she didn't even really know herself at all.
"Robin," Lissa called through the door. "We know you're in there."
"Oh! Um, would it be all right if we come in?" Sumia said.
Robin squeezed her eyes shut against the fire caught in her throat. As soon as they'd been shown their quarters, she'd holed up in her room, ignoring the call to supper.
It wasn't hiding if everyone knew where you were.
She hugged herself a little tighter, one scene playing itself over and over in her mind's eye. Kellam's face. Sunlight. The sensation of falling. And her body smacking into cold, Feroxi stone.
Whatever she'd done, it wasn't magic. Magic didn't work that way.
Did it?
And then there was the name that marred the back of her right hand. Did that have anything to do with what had happened or was it a separate issue?
Robin rubbed her temples. The tightness in her chest, the sudden weight bearing down on her shoulders, the pounding in her head, all forced her to step back and evaluate.
What was she doing here? Until she knew more about her . . . whatever it was she'd done, she was a danger to everyone she cared about.
And who knew what anomaly she'd perpetrate next?
What if she'd been standing next to Chrom when it had happened? Or Lissa?
"All right," Lissa huffed. "You can either let us come in so we know you're all right, or I can ask my big brother to investigate on our behalf. He wanted to talk to you any—"
Robin wrenched her door open, and she didn't know who was more surprised—Sumia, Lissa, or herself. She didn't even remember moving . . .
Lissa grinned at her. "Thought so."
"If this is a bad time, we can always come back later," Sumia said, fretting with a bundle of flowers she held in one hand.
Robin shook her head and stood aside as Lissa pushed her way into her room, her mind casting desperately through her memories. Surely she had moved. There's no way she could have teleported without realizing it.
Could she?
"All right, missy—" Lissa had her finger ready to wag before she looked at Robin's face. She faltered for a minute before her righteous indignation deflated. "I'll be right back."
"Oh. Um. Right." Sumia perched on the edge of the only chair in the room. When Robin didn't move from where she leaned against the wall, Sumia cleared her throat. "I wanted to thank you. For Kellam, I mean. For looking out for me even though Snowdrop didn't make a very good first impression."
Robin blinked as some of the fire in her throat made it up to her eyes.
You're my friend. Of course I want you to be safe.
The tension in Sumia's posture went out of her. "I could have made it safely on my own."
I know.
Sumia leaned forward until Robin looked her in the eye. "You were just looking out for me. And Snowdrop."
Yes.
"So why not let us look out for you too?" Sumia said the words so softly, she might have been talking to herself, except she held Robin's gaze and refused to let it go. "That's what friends do."
Friends.
The cold from earlier seemed to have woven itself through her soul. Would they still consider her their friend if they knew the name she bore and that she'd worked to hide it from them?
Would they still be friends if she misfired again and someone ended up getting hurt—or worse?
Robin forced herself to smile. She gestured to her room. We're safe here.
Because of the late hour of their arrival, their audience with the khan had been delayed until the morrow. Even so, she highly doubted the Feroxi would go to all the trouble of making room for them if they meant them harm.
"But we weren't out there."
Robin went still as she relived the memory.
Armor.
Light.
Stone.
"All righty then." Lissa said as she hefted a tray onto the small table by the door. It rattled as she settled it into place.
Sumia eyed the tray. "What's all that?"
"We," Lissa announced grandly, "are going to have a tea party."
"A tea party?"
Robin raised a brow. She'd heard of them, of course, but had thought them relegated to childish pastimes.
"It's a princess thing," Lissa explained as she began to lay out the contents of the tray. "It's also a way to get Robin to eat when she's being stubborn."
Robin raised her other brow. This was certainly news to her.
"If you won't come to supper, supper's coming to you." Lissa poured something dark and steaming into the three teacups before handing one to Robin and another to Sumia. Using a pair of tongs, she scooped some sort of white things into their cups. "Tea is not a Feroxi thing, however, so I hope you guys like hot chocolate."
"Chocolate?" Sumia perked up, all smiles. She brought her cup up to her lips, closed her eyes, and . . . sniffed the steam rising from her cup?
Robin glanced at her own cup, apprehensive. Was chocolate another word for enchantment?
Lissa nodded, looking extremely pleased with herself. "You should try some, Robin. If hot chocolate doesn't cheer you up, we may have to resort to drastic measures."
Something about the look in Lissa's eyes warned her that she would probably like the so-called 'drastic measures,' even less than landing in the middle of a contingent of Feroxi soldiers.
With a sigh, Robin took a tiny sip. Her eyes widened as a creamy, earthy sweetness invaded her senses. Suddenly Sumia's reaction made a lot more sense.
"See? I told you." Lissa pushed a plate over to Robin. "Now eat this and let's talk."
Talk about what? Memories of the day darkened Robin's brow, making her feel decidedly less than helpful.
For a second, Lissa looked ready to goose Robin on the head with her staff. Then she took a deep breath and smoothed her features. "We have a variety of things we can talk about. Like how you ended up with the Feroxi. Or why you wouldn't tell Chrom you'd been injured. And hey! Speaking of my brother, we could also discuss why you're avoiding him." Having delivered her decree, Lissa took a dainty sip of her hot chocolate.
Despite the pinpricks of fear each topic engendered, Robin had to hide her smile behind her teacup. Whether intentional or not, Lissa was the very pigtailed image of her older sister, right down to how they curled their pinkies.
She glanced at Sumia, expecting her to be anxiously brainstorming ideas for less . . . controversial conversation. Instead, her friend met her eyes and waited.
Well . . . darn.
You aren't going to let this alone, are you?
Lissa took another dainty sip and shrugged. "We're family."
Sumia nodded in agreement. "No Shepherd stands alone."
Robin squeezed her right hand into a fist. She hated being afraid—especially when she had no idea why she was so afraid in the first place. The mark, her new ability, the differences that made her stand out, those were all just symptoms of something bigger—something more important.
And for the life of her, she couldn't remember what.
Fine. She pursed her lips. What do you want to know?
Eyes shining, Lissa leaned forward. "How in the heck did you go from spell slinging Frederick's rock collection to up by the tower without going through any of the gates?"
Robin shook her head. No idea. Next question.
"What?" All signs of Composed Royal fell away, and Lissa was a fourteen-year-old girl once more. "Hey! No fair!"
"We saw you, Robin." Sumia set her cup down. "You were there one second and then gone the next. It was like you'd vanished."
Robin's carefully built wall started to crack. How many times had she replayed that particular memory? She had so few of them as it was, and for the first time she wondered if that wasn't a good thing.
A fresh start from whatever she'd been before.
I don't know. A few more cracks appeared and her throat burned. The memory was there in her mind's eye, every bit as vivid as it had been the first time.
I was throwing stones when Kellam surprised me. She blinked. It was so bright. I stumbled and fell. And then it was . . . The words fell apart at her fingertips. It took her a moment to remember she'd been explaining. Then hard and coldness and I couldn't breathe. A Feroxi lancer staring down at me in surprise.
Perhaps the most frustrating thing was everyone was going to wonder. Some of them would ask questions.
Questions Robin had no idea how to answer.
Sumia stared down at her hot chocolate like she was diving the future. "Miriel would probably know what happened. And if she doesn't, she'd be the best one at figuring it out."
"Yeah." Lissa sat back in her chair. "I wonder if she's still up."
Robin stiffened. It was suddenly very hard to breathe again.
"Why don't we get through tomorrow first," Sumia said, giving Robin a reassuring smile.
Lissa glanced at her as Robin forced her fingers to uncurl from her fist. "Probably a good idea. So why didn't you tell anyone you'd been hurt?"
The suddenness of the question startled the truth from Robin's fingers. It wasn't that important.
She immediately regretted not thinking her words through when Lissa's eyes narrowed and she flared her nostrils. It was the look she wore whenever the person she was trying to heal wasn't cooperating.
Robin still had half-remembered nightmares of that expression.
"You're a Shepherd, Robin." Sumia furrowed her brow. "Of course it's important."
"Did you get a concussion when I wasn't looking?" Lissa demanded.
Robin shook her head, clenching her teeth around the words piling up on her tongue.
"Then tell me why on earth you think an injury like that wouldn't matter." Lissa was gripping her staff so tightly that her knuckles turned white.
For a moment, Robin could see Lissa's older brother in the every line of her, which brought to mind the look he'd given her the first time he'd seen her after she'd vanished herself to the wall.
If he had been angry, she would have understood. If he had been frustrated, that would have been bearable. Instead, he looked at her as he always had, and it was remembering that softness that tore down the rest of her wall.
People could have died. She pushed herself off the wall, trembling with the words that she'd held so close with the intention of never setting them free. Because of my recklessness, my, she waved her hand dismissively, my whatever it was, people could have died. Any of them could have died, and they all put themselves in harm's way to rescue me. They rushed when it was the most dangerous to hurry. So, yes, compared to that, a little sprain was hardly a thing of any import!
Robin froze as she felt something trickle down her cheek. She reached up with one hand, surprised to find a tear she didn't remember crying.
"Idiot," Lissa said, but she was smiling and her tone gentle.
To Robin's surprise, she came over and gave her a hug.
"Yeah, but she's our idiot." Sumia said, joining the hug. "Er, I meant—"
"We know what you meant." Lissa grinned.
Neither girl moved until Robin relented and returned the hug. It felt strange, almost unnatural.
And yet . . .
And yet it felt like she'd been waiting her whole life for this moment.
Didn't you have a third question? she asked once they'd separated. Fear was still coiled tight in her belly, but if she wanted to put roots down, she was going to have to learn how to reach beyond that fear.
Lissa's pigtails bounced as she shook her head. "Nope. I think I already know the answer to that one."
The wink Lissa gave her was far from reassuring. When she turned to Sumia, Sumia was giving her a smile that was warmth lined with a quiet kind of sadness.
Oh no! Had she spoken amiss? Again. Robin pressed her lips together and resolved to corner Lissa later on to find out what questions she should avoid asking each Shepherd so she didn't have to worry about inadvertently trampling on everyone's tender spots.
Watching Sumia very carefully, she asked, Are you all right?
"I was wondering," Sumia held up the bundle of flowers she'd brought with her, "if it would be okay to try another flower fortune."
Robin's heart constricted a little, but she nodded. Besides taming demon pegasi, the other time that Sumia allowed herself to shine was when she was plucking meaning out of petals strewn across the hearth.
Sumia hadn't answered her question, not really, but Robin had a feeling that Sumia needed to hold onto whatever it was just a little bit longer.
But when it was time, she and Lissa would be there. Robin tipped her head back to drain the last drop from her cup. And they'd come armed with flower petals and a jug full of hot chocolate.
Lissa clapped her hands. "I've thought of a few more questions—if you have enough flowers, that is."
Sumia laughed, and the sadness bowed to the spark of happiness in her eyes. "Don't worry. I've brought plenty."
Despite her trepidation, Robin allowed herself a small smile. Maybe this time her future would be filled with light and laughter instead of ashes, smoke, and regret.
Robin tugged her blankets more tightly around herself, contemplating the necessity of the pillow lying on her bed, and wondering if it would really be worth the trouble of getting up to fetch it.
They'd made a nest of blankets near the hearth while Sumia told their fortunes.
Well, Lissa's fortunes. None of Robin's made any sense, and over half of them had been incomplete. But they hadn't been all doom, death, and destruction either, so there was that.
She yawned and eyed her pillow again, feeling heavier with each breath. In the end, she decided to forget her pillow in favor of sleep.
Snuggling down in her nest, Robin turned to face the hearth. Her eyes were heavy enough that the fire went slightly out of focus. Even so, something about its ever changing shape, the crackle of the logs, and the hiss of sparks captured her attention.
Her eyes widened as the flames dancing in the hearth tugged away at the shadows. Pulling and shaping the pieces of darkness until they began to look like something deliberately made rather than random shades of night.
Clenching her right hand into a fist, Robin went completely still as she waited. Was this another oddity? Another thing that made her different? Was this her doing? Or something else?
Slowly, the shadows fashioned something that looked like flower petals. Two flower petals that were regarding her with measured curiosity. Then it fanned it's wings, and Robin forgot to breathe.
Recognition of a lost memory hit her hard enough to stun her. As if it had only been waiting for her to almost remember, gold spiraled out along the wings in abstract shapes.
Trembling, she held out her hand, extending two fingers. The motion felt as natural as falling, so why did it frighten her?
Then the shadow fluttered over to her, spilling golden dust with every flap of its wings. It hovered just out of reach, wisping here and there in graceful arcs.
Butterfly.
The word sat on the tip of her tongue, anxious and shy, without the means to fly free.
Then, as if sensing the word, the butterfly dipped and then fluttered toward her door.
Robin had only meant to watch it. To try to piece together the fragments of her past that lay just beyond her grasp. But when the butterfly hesitated before it flew through the door, she was on her feet and out in the corridor without conscious thought.
The stone beneath her bare feet was cold enough to burn, to send shivers chasing up her spine, but the dark wings trailing like wet ink pushed all other thoughts and considerations out of her mind.
The butterfly led her onward, down corridors, through empty halls. Stone smoothed into wood bunched up into thick carpets, the pattern repeating itself, but never in the same order.
Her heart beat in time with the butterfly's wings, fluttered in her chest as if to traverse the distance beside her, marking the tempo for her feet to follow.
It had been a secret thing, this butterfly. A hidden thing. The memory was soft and misty, but though she couldn't see it well enough to understand it, her heart recognized it.
The truth within it.
The sting of disappointment on her hand.
The sudden fear of shadows with teeth.
And beneath it all—the wonder.
The butterfly waited patiently as she stumbled up a couple of low steps. Dried out rushes crunched beneath her feet, releasing the aroma of sweet scented herbs as she crossed the hall.
Three glass panes had been set into the wall on the far side, reflecting the flicker of torches and the stillness of night.
She was close enough that she might have stretched out her fingers and brushed them against the shadow silk wings. But just as the thought formed, the butterfly flew into the glass, leaving behind ripples like the passing of a stone through water.
Robin's fingers slipped across the surface of the glass, leaving ripples of their own. And there, just beyond her reach, the butterfly fluttered in a cloud of golden dust.
As though it felt the prick of her attention, it darted out of the first pane of glass and into the second.
Something like longing and laughter bubbled up in Robin's throat as she reached for the butterfly once more.
As before, her touch left concentric circles rippling outward from the window. This time, instead of pulling back, she pressed her fingers against the glass. The cold of it burned against her fingers and it resisted the intrusion, though she won out in the end.
Once she had buried her arm up to her elbow, the butterfly flitted back into the hall before it dove into the final pane.
Delight tempered with heartbreak allowed her to see what she had missed before. Two tiny figures wrapped in pine needles and emerald leaves. A forest of secrets she could nearly understand. She squinted at the butterfly's riddle, trying to make out the details.
The butterfly had nowhere else to go, but did she truly wish to catch it?
And if she did, what would she do with it then?
The glass rippled at her touch, but she hesitated. Caught between the riddle and the answer, not willing to push through, but neither was she willing to give it up.
Maybe if she just—
"Robin?"
A voice like sunshine and clover brushed against her mind. She turned halfway, but her gaze remained locked on shadowy wings fluttering deeper than night.
She was so close. The answer was right there, waiting for her to dredge up the courage—the will—to catch hold of it.
To claim it as her own.
"Robin, you're like ice."
A warm weight was thrown around her shoulders, dimming the promise that lay within the glass. She struggled against the weight, desperation clinging to her fingertips. The memory was important. A skeleton key to her amnesia. If she could only just—
"Milord, perhaps I should deal with this. It is hardly fitting—"
"Forget propriety, Frederick, and help me secure her!"
Something like iron clamped down on her sides, trapping her arms in place. She fought as best she could, but her strength flowed out of her as the distance between hope and despair widened.
A wintry forest traced itself upon her heart as the butterfly vanished from the world. Each crack a memory she would never recover.
The loss of it was a sword to the gut, and what was left of her heart bled through the gaping wound in long tendrils of fire.
But even as her heart shattered, the low murmur of voices, the pressure of her cocoon, the sound of her name, they all wrapped themselves about her, holding everything tightly in place.
They held her long enough, she realized, for the jagged edges of her heart to blend together just enough to begin mending.
Her face bathed in cold fire, she surrendered her hope and despair, keeping a small shard of each.
To remember.
Out of the stillness that followed, someone began to hum. Halting at first, but gaining depth and confidence enough to weave words in with the music.
"Hush my sweetling, dry your tears. The moon is bright, and shines tonight, amid a sea of stars."
She turned her face toward the song, curling around it as her consciousness faded into a restful slumber.
"Hush my sweetling, the time is come. Let go your fears, your dreams draw near. Safe in my arms where you belong."
The morning came gently for a change.
The warmth of the sunlight slipped through the slats of the shutters to wash over her, drawing her out of her dreams.
Robin nestled into her pillow, not quite ready to wake. Her linens smelled of fresh clover and were nice and warm. Not even the threat of frogs could drag her out of—
She froze as she became aware of a sound like that of a heartbeat. But whereas hers had sped up, it remained slow and steady. It was then that she realized her pillow had been undulating oddly against her cheek.
Alarm clamped down on her chest, making it hard to breathe. Her eyes flew open, but the world remained a riddle one clue short from having an answer.
Had she fallen into a sky lined with . . . buttons . . . ?
. . . Wait . . . a minute . . .
Robin startled as the details of her situation slammed into place with excruciating clarity. A firm weight kept her from spilling onto the floor while the blanket she was swaddled in kept her from doing anything meaningful to extricate herself.
Chrom mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like a garbled lullaby.
Her cheeks burned with the fragments of a memory that might have been a dream. Except dreams weren't comfortably solid and they had the decency to vanish upon awakening.
What was she going to do?
Now that the first wave of panic had passed, Robin realized there was one thing that was paramount to all else: she couldn't wake Chrom.
Slowly. She needed to move slowly.
She stretched her fingers out with deliberate care, pushing through the soft folds of her blanket as she sought a way to free herself.
To no avail.
Grinding her teeth in frustration, she studied the angle she was at versus the floor. If she could move just a few inches, she'd be able to slip out from under his arm.
Now that she had a plan, Robin waited a few moments for her racing pulse to slow. Everything was going to be okay. She could do this. It wasn't as though she was just doing it for herself. No, they'd be able to avoid a world full of awkward embarrassment so long as she kept her head.
That's right. She was doing this for Chrom. Her captain and her pr—
Shutting off her thoughts, Robin made a tiny experimental movement. When Chrom didn't stir, she let out her breath and began to carry out her plan. To her delight, it moved along smoothly.
Right up to the point his eyes cracked open mid shimmy.
He stared at her, his gaze still unfocused and his eyes heavy with sleep. Robin held her breath, but the longer he stared, the more focused his gaze seemed to grow.
"Robin?"
With a silent yelp, she dove for the ground. In his surprise, his arms fell slack, which gave her the out she'd been searching for. She tumbled onto the ground while Chrom bit off a shout of his own.
They both surged to their feet, her blanket unfurling from her legs. The shape and movement were so familiar that it only took a moment for her to make the connection.
"Robin, I—"
Whipping the fabric away from herself, she thrust his cloak toward him and backed up a few steps, her fingers a blur of embarrassed apology.
Seeking for something—anything—to anchor her, her gaze darted about the room. Wait. There! She recognized her pile of books in the corner—
"Robin, this isn't . . . Let me explain," Chrom said, addressing the ceiling.
—right as she became aware that she was clad in her sleeping shift and trailing ribbons.
She snatched his cloak back and wrapped it around her as an improvised toga of sorts. Then, imagining she had command of the situation, she jabbed a finger in the direction of the door.
"Robin, I—please—"
Later.
Out.
Now!
"O-of course. We'll talk later."
Chrom ducked his head and, while he didn't exactly run, he most certainly fled.
Once he had shut the door behind him, Robin crossed the room and turned the key in its lock. Only then did she relax her hold on the cloak.
She grimaced at the sight of the half knotted ribbons trailing from her sleeves and bodice.
With an alacrity she rarely exhibited in the morning, she was fully dressed within a minute or two. Another minute to drag a comb through her hair, but nothing short of dunking her head in a bucket of water would keep her hair from standing on end. Another to clean both her face and her teeth.
And a final minute to fold the cloak into a neat little packet.
There, she admonished herself. Almost like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. All she had to do was return his cloak, and then it might as well have not happened at all.
Yes.
Precisely.
Stiffening her spine, Robin turned the key and marched out of her room.
Chrom was waiting for her at the end of the corridor, pacing the width of it with short, agitated movements.
"Robin, I am so very sorry." He reached one hand toward her before he thought the better of it and turned it into a wave of sorts.
If Robin hadn't been in the death throes of mortification herself, she might have laughed. Instead, she handed him his cloak. Then she stepped back, crossed her arms, and composed her expression.
Well?
Chrom stopped pacing.
"The commander of Longfort took Frederick and me on a tour of their training grounds. She also arranged for us to speak to the soldiers we battled against. To gain an understanding."
He looked at her, so earnestly pleading, but Robin was completely lost as how any of this had to do with her.
"It was late by the time we finished, and when we were headed to our rooms, you were standing there by the windows."
Robin frowned. What on earth had possessed her to traipse through the Feroxi Hall in her sleeping shift? And why had she no memory of it?
"We tried calling to you," Chrom went on, color darkening his cheeks and the tips of his ears, "but as we drew closer, it became apparent that you were sleeping."
I was . . . asleep? If anyone other than Chrom had told her this, she would have concluded they had either lost it or they were toying with her.
The color in Chrom's cheeks deepened. "And then when we realized—" He held out the arm he'd draped his cloak over and made a vague throwing motion.
Robin blinked at him, her own face burning. Really, could it get any worse?
That doesn't explain everything.
"Yes, well, you didn't take kindly to being covered up, so I carried you to your room." Chrom shuffled his feet. "I, er, tried to put you down, but you . . ."
I, what? Robin asked, not entirely sure she really wanted an answer to her question.
For the first time, Chrom looked at her squarely, no hint of embarrassment in his gaze. "You were crying, and it only got worse whenever I tried to put you down. So I didn't."
All those many times before when she thought she was going to die of mortification? Well, it turned out she had no idea what mortification really was.
Until now.
"Nothing happened, Robin. You have my word. I remembered an old lullaby my mother used to sing, and that seemed to calm you. I must have dozed off somewhere between then and a few minutes ago."
Robin worked her mouth and twisted her fingers, but words remained elusively beyond her grasp.
Which was probably for the best. While she liked to believe the worst was behind her, experience had proven that such thoughts were dangerously notorious for proving her wrong.
And she hadn't even had time to try to explain to Chrom what had happened and why she'd apparently broken her promise.
No, instead she'd just forced him to walk over hot coals for the crime of protecting her dignity and having compassion.
It was no wonder that she couldn't find words. There were no words sufficient for the apology she owed him.
"You can verify with Frederick. He was there for everything but," Chrom cleared his throat as a blush dusted his cheeks, "the, er, song."
And now she'd made him think she doubted him.
Before she could scrape together the beginnings of an apology, Lissa skipped around the corner.
"Hey Chrom! Robin!" Her grin faltered. "Yeesh, who died? Wait. Does this mean you told him?"
The relief on Chrom's face at the change of conversation was almost palpable. "Told me what?"
"You didn't yell at her, did you?" Lissa frowned at her brother while linking her arm through Robin's. "It really wasn't her fault, Chrom. She didn't do it on purpose, and had no idea she could work that kind of magic."
Robin dropped her face into her hands. In exactly none of the stories she'd read did the maiden whose honor was being defended die of embarrassment. Here she had not one, but two defenders. So was it a personality defect on her end or—
Chrom shook his head. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Liss." He glanced at Robin, causing a blush to burn itself across her cheeks. "Robin hasn't given me any cause to reprimand her."
He moved to rest his hand on Falchion, as he always did when the ground beneath him turned less than solid, and he seemed at a loss when his hand found nothing but air.
Robin stiffened just as his movement drew his little sister's attention.
"Well, that's good to hea—Hey, where's Falchion? You're never not wearing it." Lissa rolled her eyes and grinned at Robin. "I swear my brother even wears Falchion when he's sleeping. I don't care how blessed a blade is. Sharp and pointy is sharp and pointy, and one morning we're going to find Chrom skewered by Ylisse's most treasured heirloom."
The blood drained from Robin's face as the panic in Chrom's expression confirmed what she'd already guessed.
"Well, Lissa—"
It would be unseemly to walk the halls of Regna Ferox armed, Robin supplied. Chrom was great at many things, but anything he said would only further implicate him in a crime he hadn't even committed. Hospitality laws a stricter here than they are back in Ylisse.
Lissa frowned as she rubbed her thumb along the shaft of her staff. "Do you think it's okay for me to carry this around? I don't want to mess up our mission."
Chrom laughed. "So long as you can restrain yourself from hitting anyone with it, I think you'll be fine."
"I dunno, Chrom." Lissa made a face at him. "I can only try to do my best."
Robin took a deep breath. She was a tactician, and this was an easy problem to solve.
Lissa, do you know where they're serving breakfast?
Lissa's smile returned. "Yep. I was actually coming to make sure you didn't forget to eat. Again."
I'm not that bad. Robin narrowed her eyes as Chrom and Lissa exchanged a look. I eat when I need to.
"Right," Chrom and Lissa said in unison.
Robin gritted her teeth, reminding herself to keep the bigger picture in mind. Well, I need to eat now. Lead the way.
"Breakfast sounds good." Chrom swallowed a yawn, and for the first time Robin noticed the tired lines around his eyes.
She put up a hand and widened her eyes, hoping he'd get the message. I thought you might like to make sure Falchion is safe first.
Chrom looked her in the eye so she could not mistake his meaning. "I trust that Falchion is safe. I wouldn't have left her there otherwise. Besides, I'd like to hear more about what Lissa was talking about."
Her?
Lissa shook her head as she took the lead. "Apparently. When he was younger—"
"No changing the subject." Chrom refastened his cloak. "What were you talking about earlier, Liss?"
Lissa glanced at Robin who nodded tiredly. She was going to have to explain things sooner or later, and at least this way breakfast could serve as a small distraction.
"How she beat us all into Longfort."
Chrom folded his arms and gave Robin a look she couldn't quite decipher. "Good. I've been wondering."
Suddenly she didn't feel hungry anymore.
A craven part of her wanted to duck her head and run, since she still hadn't worked out how her vanishing act worked. But a surprisingly large part of Robin couldn't allow her to do that. Chrom had spent time he could have used to get some much needed sleep doing what he could to soothe her fears.
Now it was her turn.
How much do you know about magic?
A/N: So, remember that really weird prologue? Highly applicable here and a hint as to what's coming.
Lissa's impromptu tea party was not something I expected, and I wasn't really sure how well it fit. I tried cutting it completely, when a not-delicate pigtailed princess put her foot down. I've been writing long enough to know that there are just times you have to trust your characters—especially if they are holding a rather dented healing staff and giving you pointed looks.
So the tea party stays. I figured anyone living in the frozen north needed something to keep body and soul together, and apparently hot chocolate with marshmallows is that something. O.o
This was probably my favorite chapter to write so far. Not as fun as treeing Robin and then having her enact revenge, and vent her frustration, on a couple of innocent deciduous bystanders, but special in its own way. I had no idea Chrom was going to sing her a lullaby until he'd started. (Prior to this I had sort of assumed that he couldn't really sing, on key, that is. Turns out I was wrong.) No idea the butterfly was going to appear until it flitted out of the shadows and through the glass. And no idea a certain character *looking at you Chrom* was going to start working things out this soon. Originally I'd planned a sort of Cinderella moment.
The lighting.
The gown.
Robin in the gown.
The moment their eyes meet and [redacted because this part still works and is going in the story darn it!]
Anyhow, this is technically their B-Support conversation. A-support will happen soonish. I didn't go with the original B and C supports because they really wouldn't work as well with Robin being mute, and Robin, Chrom, and I all decided that it was better NOT to risk spontaneously combusting from embarrassment.
That's right, we're doing this—Er, not doing this, I guess—for you guys. 0:)
But I did want to capture some of the emotional beats from the supports. I figured *cough* vulnerability was a big one, and when I plugged that one in, I got a window hopping butterfly made of shadows. By this point, I just shook my head and followed them around, writing as fast as I could. Sometimes the characters really do know what they're doing. :p
Three Notes:
1) Apologies. As I was putting up chapters over at AO3, I discovered that a couple of chapters had been stripped of their formatting (italics and breaks). Fixing this is on my list of things to do.
2) Speaking Of AO3, I'm mirroring FRACTURED over there. Same title and same user name.
3) A hearty thank you to all of you. Knowing you are reading this story has made me stretch and grow as a writer, and the story is all the better for it. So thank you all very much!
IsThisWorking: Heh. Apparently gullibility is one of my most endearing traits. :p
Guest: Thank you so much! I'm glad you're enjoying it. :) (The character interactions are my favorite part of the story.)
Ahnah: Heh. Funny story. As soon as I typed that sentence about Frederick's rock collection, mostly in jest, Robin raised her brow and said, "Hmmm" in that tone of hers that always gets us into trouble. I'd been planning all along to use some sort of reflective something to conquer Longfort, and apparently the rock collection fit the bill. Sully and Vaike are definitely going to be willing accomplices in some of Robin's crazier plans.
I think by this point, Robin is the only one who is still even a little in the dark. Which is interesting, because it's not like this is a one-sided feeling. If Robin would just sit down and reason out why she's doing some of the things she's doing, she'd die of mortification, but at least she'd be on the same page as everyone else. :) (And yes, her personal safety isn't really even a blip on her radar. This will be explained later on.)
Ha! Chrom's birthday is going to be interesting [Redacted] [Redacted] [Redacted] I mean, right? :p
Thank you so much! I've really loved writing this story and can't wait to see where it goes from here. I'm really glad you guys are enjoying it too, because somewhere along the line FRACTURED morphed from something I was doing for fun on my own into something I'm writing for each one of you. :D
Thanks for the link. I had no idea such awesomeness existed!
small slappy: Thank you so much! I'm very happy that you're enjoying it. :D (With this chapter, FRACTURED will be up-to-date on AO3.)