All was silent in the Feroxi throne room, those within the dark stone walls lit only by torches, as snow fell outside and blocked the sun. Among the mourning Shepherds and Feroxi standing around the violet carpet, none, not even their leaders, stood upon the dais. No one was ready to be led then, when all that could be heard was whispers of comfort, the wind battling the glass shields, and Lissa's sobs.
All their efforts had come to naught.
Emmeryn was dead. Peace would be hard-won in her vast wake.
"Emm... Oh, Emm..." Lissa hiccupped, Maribelle rubbing her shoulders comfortingly, Lon'qu also standing more closely than usual.
Though Robin couldn't tell his expression, with his vision swimming as he choked back whatever noises of sorrow he could. He doubted he was successful. He pulled the cowl of his beloved, sullied coat over his eyes.
"I should have died before allowing the exalt to be captured," Frederick murmured into the quiet. "I have failed as a knight..."
Cordelia looked at him from her half-embrace with Sumia then, nodding slowly in agreement.
Khan Flavia sighed heavily. "So, what now, oaf?"
The West-Khan shot her a look with his one eye. "Don't look to me — I'm not in charge!"
"Ugh... I picked a fine time to regain the full throne..." She swore harshly, before announcing to the Shepherds, "I call for a strategy meeting. Come on, Chrom, Robin! The rest of you get some rest. Gods know we need it."
It took a few calls from Frederick for Chrom to hear, and Robin followed the royalty and retainer silently, ignoring the sounds of the other Shepherds filing out behind them.
Arriving in the war room, they were greeted with the walls plastered with maps and Emblems of Regna Ferox and the Halidom of Ylisse. But their attention was garnered by the maps of Plegia spread across the long table. Reminders of plans made and failed.
"Any idea on Gangrel's next move, Robin?" Khan Basilio grumbled, leaning on the table with his knuckles.
The answer came to him relatively simply, having debated it since regaining consciousness under Libra's attentive and methodical care. "He's just waiting. He knows we'll come to avenge her, so he probably won't attack Ylisse unless we take too long to do so."
"So, we do what he expects or place the halidom in harm's way," Frederick summarised. He shook his head slowly. "By the gods."
"Still, despite having the home field and a complete army, I think we stand a chance," Robin continued his train of thought. "Gangrel has no real way of knowing our exact number, and he's running the risk of insubordination."
"Insubordination? How?"
"Those who witnessed the execution were reluctant to fight in the last battle. With all of Plegia starving and disfavoured by their own king, it probably won't be long before he loses control. Insurgence would be a better word."
And hopefully, considered with a rather blithe optimism, Ka'nae's allegiance to Robin ran deeper than he let on.
"The hell they care, those—"
Robin's shin met his stomach, forcing the prince to cry out and double over, in the perfect position for an uppercut, which straightened him, before Robin kicked him again in the chest and onto the floor.
"I CARE!" he screeched, breath ragged with anger. "I CARE!"
"I'm not talking about you, Robin!" Chrom yelled back, spitting out blood and wiping it from his lips. "I'm talking about those sons of bitches!"
Robin's breath hitched, his eyes white with rage, teeth gritted as he punched Chrom in the face again, straddling him and pushing the prince down by the shoulders, screaming himself hoarse, "I'M PLEGIAN! GRIMLEAL! YOU KEEP SAYING THAT! EVERYBODY THINKS THAT! YOU CAN'T DENY IT NOW, YOU GODS DAMNED—!"
Arms hooked themselves under his shoulders, and Frederick easily hoisted him off his lord by his armpits. Robin flailed pathetically against the man's grip. His throat and stomach burned, his left eye itched for the kakugan, and his kagune writhed in his sac, eager for slaughter in his excitement.
He looked into Chrom's eyes — pain, sorrow, betrayal — and let himself fall limp.
"I know i-it's my f-fault she's gone..." he whined. "I know I told you to sacrifice her instead of the Emblem..." He sniffled, gasping for breath, and looked at Chrom with tears running down his red-blotched face. "But I-I don't want her dead! Don't say that I do!"
They all stared at him in shock — less surprised from the khans, horrified from Chrom —, and Frederick's grip on him slackened. Seizing the opportunity, Robin writhed out of the great knight's hold, collapsing to the floor and crying out in the agony radiating from his injury. Before Chrom could scramble to him, he stumbled up, wobbly, and fled from the room like a lamb from wolves.
"Robin, wait!"
He ignored Chrom's voice, trying to get his blood rushing in his ears, for the pain to block out the sounds. He ran through the hallways, unsteady and gasping as his long wound protested despite Libra's best attempts at fixing it, with Lissa unable to work and Maribelle comforting her. When he finally reached his temporary room, an isolated part of the medical wing, he pressed the door shut behind him with his back, rattling its hinges.
Gradually, he let himself slide down the wood until he hit the cold stone floor, wrapped his arms around his knees, and cried.
He had no idea how long he sat there, only that his eyes stung as tears continued to flow. He stood with the door as support, and swayed numbly. His throat hurt from sobs and hiccups. His body ached from shaking and his injury.
None of this was supposed to happen.
He grabbed his hair and pulled. He screamed at the very real pain. Then agony as his wound punished him for moving his arms up. His stomach was empty. His kakuhou, though unharmed, was drained of Rc cells. His wound had not healed beyond Libra's efforts. It hadn't regenerated. He let himself fall onto the only bed in the small room, closed his eyes tightly, then snapped them open as widely as he could. It did not snap him out of this nightmare. Him lying there, at the mercy of his injury, scolding his foolishness and wallowing in his failure was all terribly, horribly real.
Emmeryn was gone. The person he had trusted most was gone. His chest felt empty, yet filled with anguish that did not stem from his injury. He would never see her lips curve into a gentle smile again, never would her jade green eyes gleam at him. She would never smooth his hair down again, never embrace him. He would never feel her soft touch on his cheeks again. He rested the back of his hand on his forehead, where his skin had touched her Brand of the Exalt the last time they had spoken. He could still feel that delicate, soothing touch that left a strange feeling in him. How she had comforted him had left him feeling so much better afterwards, in ways he could never hope to describe, but she would never be there for him again.
All he had left was an empty void, filled with guilt, in his chest, and it would not go away. Tears continuously leaked from his eyes. He felt like wailing, screaming, crying himself hoarse, but he could not comprehend why. He had killed people before, more than he could count, but he had never felt this way. He had seen people die right before his eyes, and yet never had he sensed such a feeling within him. Why was he so sad? No, he had felt sadness before. This was something far beyond that. At least he recognised the remorse he felt.
If he had just considered the appearance of the Risen, everything could have been drastically different. He had been the only one with the power to save her, making him responsible for her death. If only he had thought of a better strategy. If only he had had the courage to run and save her himself. If only he had had the strength to fend off other ghouls if he had.
If only he had eaten. He would have had the strength to fight! He could have leapt to her perch, protected her with his kagune, and run before anyone would have known what had happened. His wound would have healed, Chrom would not have hated him in the first place, and Emmeryn would be alive.
He wrapped his arms around his body, hugging himself, rocking slightly, trembling. Nothing had gone his way. The only option had been to forsake her. She'd known that.
Absentmindedly, he realised this room had been provided for the treatment of his wound. A healer could enter at any moment.
Giddily, he realised he didn't care. In fact, that would be a boon. They would be serving themselves on a silver platter. The aroma of all the humans in the castle flooded his senses, suppressed thoughts climbing over the collapsed mental wall, sickening pleasure begging for release, his lower back and left eye incinerating his nerves. He felt a grin twitch at his tear-stained face, a giggle escaping him as a human scent approached.
He sat up, back to the door as it creaked open, and shut. "Robin, I've come on Prince Chrom's behalf," said the feminine voice of a male aroma. Gods...! How interestingly delectable this would be! "I know you don't want to hear a lecture, but I have someth—"
"You know..." Robin slurred through his broad smile, swaying as he stood from the bed and steadied himself on the frame. "I'm awfully hungry right now. You wouldn't mind offering me some food..."
He tilted his head back, grinning deliriously at the ever so innocent, oblivious war monk, single kakugan manifested.
"Like that body of yours?!" he laughed highly.
He spun around, stepped on the bed for better height, and bit into the white-robed shoulder. Blood burst from the human's fragile body. Robin moaned hungrily as relief to his horrible ache washed over him, pleasure drowning him to the point where being slammed down onto the floor could not wake him from this wonderful mania. He dug his teeth deeper, digging his fingers into his meal's back, moving the cloth out of the way with his tongue and licking at the blood leaking from the skin punctured by his teeth. He did not yet have the strength to bite deep enough to reach the collarbone through the tense meat, but the blood was so thick and succulent and the desire and hunger so overwhelming he would be damned if he didn't fucking bite this off!
His prey had stood and thrown itself on top of him, grappling at the half-ghoul's face to try and unclamp his jaw, slipping on his saliva. The meat screamed at him, saying his name. Shut up! He wouldn't have wanted to be interrupted in Robin's position, now would he?
An armoured foot met his wound. Robin screamed, grasp loosening long enough for his victim to scramble away.
Growling in frustration, Robin followed the scent, his hunger, and rolled over onto all fours, ignoring his wound igniting and his struggle to breathe, numbed with the thrill of the hunt and adrenaline pumping through him. Red-tinted saliva dribbled down him and rapacious groans and curses escaped him, nigh unintelligible screams about his hunger.
He saw the blond war monk scramble away from him. Gods, it was intoxicating! He couldn't let the meal escape! No one would have wanted that, would they?!
He suddenly laughed, swaying drunkenly as he stood and walked over to the prey nearing the door, but helpfully not opening it.
"Come on, friends help each other!" he giggled as he vaguely remembered the meat having mentioned that. "I'm hungry! So, let me eat you!"
The stink of a healing elixir permeated the air, and the prey launched itself at him. Robin snapped his jaw into the meat, beautiful, wonderful, delicious meat! And this time, he tore a mouthful off. He swallowed.
The flavour sent a thrilling pulsation through his body, flooding his being as it rushed down his throat, his stomach, through his blood and veins and set an indescribably wonderful tingling buzz off in his kakuhou. He bit down into the arm, again, again, again, tearing flesh and blood from it, spilling it down his front, burying his face in the cold muscly sinews of the limb, and relishing the inebriation. He tried to tear apart the steel vambrace in his way as his strength returned, but could only bend it at most. He growled as he devoured the meat, gnawing the morsels off the bone and craving more, more more more!
All too soon, the arm was reduced to bone and bloodied clothing as Robin licked it clean, running his tongue up the radius, the humerus, coming to the joint and meeting air.
Where was it? Where was more?! He whined in frustration, and licked his lips, less hungry than before but far from appeased.
When he looked up to meet kind, patient, understanding jade eyes, he shrieked, scrambling back.
"E—?!" No.
"Have you come to your senses?" Libra asked, only a slight amount of fear in his so good scent, as he poured another dose of elixir over his wounded, bloodstained shoulder. His arm was still attached.
Robin blinked, glancing down. A smidgeon of non-discoloured material showed it was navy blue. He looked up again. Libra's robes were white. He looked down again at the arm. The severed arm.
"...Huh?"
A relieved sigh, serene and calm, could be heard from the war monk. "It seems so. Good."
Robin pinched the upper half of his fringe, running his finger and thumb down the strands and letting the blood drip onto his exposed tongue.
"Not enough..." he whined, sitting back on his haunches as the buzz began to fade. He wasn't on the brink, anymore, but the deprivation still left him feeling even hollower than before.
"Forgive me. That was all I could smuggle," Libra replied.
In his mildly distracted and sluggish state, it took Robin a moment to process the things around him. When the words strung themselves together in his mind and fell into a comprehensible meaning, his head snapped up in horror.
"You know!"
Yet there was no more fear in his expression or scent. He was human, but he wasn't afraid? Robin had attacked him in a starved mania, but the man made no move to kill him? He was an Ylissean clergyman, yet he was perfectly happy sitting on the end of Robin's bed, apologising for not having smuggled enough human flesh?
Robin stood shakily, eying him suspiciously as he took off his coat, undid his belts, and untucked his shirt, and realisation dawned on Libra, eyes widening in fear — finally something Robin could make sense of.
He released a single rinkaku tentacle and poised the scaled tendril ready to pierce between the war monk's eyes. He slowly crept closer, claw swaying but its tip not moving from its focused position.
"Your kagune..." Libra whispered, breathless either from the still too-small amount of fear or — dare he think it — awe. When Robin finally stood before the tall man, with the taste of his blood recalled by the stink of his injury the elixir did not quite overpower, he looked Robin in the eye. Firm, but not angry. "The one part of you I've never seen."
No fear someone in Libra's position should have felt could match what gripped Robin then. He reeled, kagune spasming in his distress, whipping about like an upset cat's tail. He took quick, frightened breaths at the revelation of this stranger knowing what he was. And for how long? Had he told the others? Were they waiting outside that very door, waiting to kill him? Or had he contacted the Commission of Counter Ghoul for his extermination? Or had the meat he'd just eaten been poisoned and he was already dying?!
He pressed himself against the wall, as far away from his intended prey as possible, kagune curling around him protectively. But a rinkaku, however powerful, was flimsy, and would do little to shield him! Sweat ran down his brow, his complexion no doubt greyed. His senses overwhelmed him. He could smell the blood of the unfortunate Plegian's arm, Libra's, the stench of potions, the smell of everyone else in the castle. He could taste blood on his tongue. He could hear the winds outside, rattling the windows. He could hear each strong, determined beat of that man's living heart.
"Who are you?" he whimpered, releasing another tentacle.
The war monk's brow creased, and he took a tentative step towards Robin, arms raised in a manner meant to be placating. He stopped when Robin flexed his kagune threateningly despite his terror.
"I am Libra, but a simple war monk from the Cathedral of Naga in Ylisstol," he said carefully, softly. "And you are Robin, the only child of Ri'ze Kamishiro, a fabled one-eyed ghoul, and who I consider my little brother."
"Little...brother?" Robin whispered, at a loss for anything else.
Libra took a few tentative steps forward, gently brushed the deadly claw aside, and, hushing Robin throughout, wrapped his arms around the boy's shoulders, pressing the half-ghoul's face into his chest. His heart rate had increased, and a pointed note of fear permeated the air, but the war monk was steadfastly ignoring it, working against it, in fact, by controlling his breathing.
He truly smelled as nice as he was a person, Robin thought as he sniffed. The hunger still nibbling at him was probably of some influence in that thought, but it was nonetheless true without.
"I wasn't summoned to Ylisstol Castle to help treat your injuries," Libra cooed, a voice which made him sound...motherly? "I came as soon as word reached my ears of your location, to see you again and to support you, as was your mother's request. Learning of your memory loss was...devastating... I refused to believe it, but..."
That was right. Now that he thought about it, Robin had met Libra before in his existing memory.
"You're... You know me?" he asked.
"Yes."
"You raised me?"
"Yes. Together with your mother. She's searching for you as we speak. I'm so glad you're alright!" Libra practically cried in relief.
Robin had tried to devour who he'd once considered his big brother.
"I don't remember!" he screamed. Libra choked.
Those thoughts sent him into another round of tears.
"I-I'm a monster! You shouldn't h-hold me!"
Libra practically smothered him in a loving embrace. "No. I don't see a monster. I see a boy grieving and crying over what isn't his fault. Monsters don't cry."
"Y-you can't...trust me..." he sobbed, struggling against Libra's grip. "Ch-Chrom's right... It is my fault...E-...Emm—"
"What happened back there was not your fault."
"I COULD HAVE SAVED HER!" Robin shouted him down. He stilled, his face morphing from anger back to regret, tearing up once more. "If...If I had just eaten, I would have been strong enough... If only I was braver, I could have..."
Libra pulled him back into an even tighter hug, holding his head and running his fingers underneath the white hair, gently silencing the boy's whimpering. "It's alright to be afraid. Fear is part of every living creature. Without it, a man would recklessly attack a bear, a rabbit would not run from a fox, a bird would not fly from a cat. Without fear, no matter how irrational, life could not exist. And the fact that you don't want to eat... Well, that makes you human."
The boy sniffled, wet silver eyes blinking up at him. "Human...?"
"Everyone fears death, Robin," Libra said with such powerful conviction, it almost relaxed him.
"But I... If I had thought of a better strategy, nobody would've died! I didn't even consider the appearance of the Risen!" he yelled back, Libra flinching. His aggression faded to sadness again. "I'm not only a failure as a friend, but as a tactician, as well..."
"Robin, look at me!" Libra commanded, in a tone that held Robin as though in a trance. He tilted his head up from its placement on the man's broad chest, and listened obediently. "Though you don't remember it, you have proven to me that you are the strongest, bravest person in the world, and the only person to have ever been my friend. I'll say it a thousand, a million times if I have to: What happened back there was NOT your fault. Anything but yours!"
"I told Chrom to sacrifice her!"
Libra paused at that, and released a heavy sigh. "Her Grace chose to sacrifice herself. I don't think your input made a difference in the end."
'Don't give it up,' Emmeryn had whispered to him. It had been her choice, her will. She had taken the only logical step in Gangrel's ultimatum. She was but one person. The Fire Emblem represented countless people. She had taken the weight of the decision upon her own shoulder, and had fallen on her own terms.
"You're right," Robin murmured, sniffing harshly.
Libra lowered his head to rest his cheek against Robin's hair. He only then noticed the war monk was rocking them from side to side soothingly. Despite him being a complete stranger to Robin, he could appreciate the action, and tightened his grip around the tall man. He felt a smile against his head.
"Can you find it in you to forgive Prince Chrom? I understand he was extremely insensitive and hurtful, but he is wracked with grief much like the rest of us..."
Slowly, Robin felt himself nod.
Libra hummed affectionately. "Well, let's get you cleaned up."
Libra watched Robin disappear down the dark halls of Castle Ferox, the both of them now cleaned up and having changed into fresh robes. He clutched the remnants of the severed arm, wrapped in the cloth and paper he'd concealed it in, and would soon dispose of it. There had been two aspects of Robin he had never seen — how he ate, and his kagune. His claw was just as Ri'ze had described hers. After seeing it first-hand, and having watched Robin eat, he could conclude not a single part of the albino was a mystery to him. Not even the birth he had not witnessed.
He was not afraid. He could never fear Robin. He could only fear for him.
He looked up at the sound of armoured footsteps, as the great knight, the prince's retainer and guard, approached him from the same direction Robin had run off in. They both gave a respectful bow to each other, before Frederick the Wary spoke, "Friar Libra, was it? I trust your talk with Robin went well. I must say, I'm impressed, considering how upset he was. How on earth did you get him to come around so soon?"
Libra had a correction for the misconception of his gender prepared, and stumbled over his words when he realised it was unnecessary. "It was no problem, truly. As it stands right now, I know more about him than he does himself."
The man cocked a sharp brow. "That is to say?"
"I raised him alongside his mother, in the Cathedral of Naga," replied the war monk with a simple smile, eyes glancing over to where Robin had disappeared to.
"The cathedral?!" exclaimed the taller man, scandalised.
Libra frowned. "Why would you be so shocked, Sir Frederick? I understand the Grimleal coat may be misleading, but..."
With a tight grimace, as though he had eaten a rotten egg, the great knight suddenly knelt before him. "I must ask for both your forgiveness! I am known as Frederick the Wary for my caution and devotion to my lord. I strongly suspected Robin was a danger up until this very moment. I'm relieved to hear my suspicions so clearly refuted!"
It had been Libra's understanding this man was the epitome of composure and chivalry. The sudden switch left him in want for a candid response, especially at how his presence in Robin's past had so severely flawed the man's judgement. "A-ah, of course."
"Still, do you not know the origin of that coat?" Sir Frederick asked as he rose.
How much to reveal?
"It was a disguise for his mother to escape the Grimleal. She's kept it ever since, as a reminder of what should have never happened," he chose to say.
Selfishly, he wished Ri'ze didn't regret.
Lightning struck. Thunder roared. Chrom bared his teeth like a rabid beast, splattered with blood the rain would never wash away, fire in his eyes, Falchion poised to rend him asunder.
Robin froze, hand a hair's breadth off from knocking on Chrom's door.
Libra — a childhood friend, a brother he did not recognise — had reassured him on every insecurity, every fear he had stopping him from just knocking on that door. But it lingered. Libra had not seen that ire. Libra had not felt that betrayal. Libra had not felt the terror of being turned upon by the one he trusted most.
No. He had. Barely half an hour ago. Robin had been like Chrom to him.
Knowing this, he forced Libra's words of encouragement to the forefront of his mind, and knocked before he could regret it.
Something was slammed onto wood in surprise inside, and Chrom cursing followed. Footsteps approached, and the door cracked open enough to reveal half of Chrom's face. The sapphire eye widened, and the door swung open, crashing against the wall. His hair was unkempt and greasy. He'd taken off his shoulder guard, long white cape, and belts, leaving him in his one-sleeved top, trousers and boots. He had stubble growing, and it occurred to Robin that he had never seen Chrom so...imperfect.
"Listen, Robin! I'm so sorry for all I've said and done! I'm so s—"
Robin rushed into him. He buried his face into the older man's chest, studiously ignoring the rancid stench overpowering his nostrils, sobbing quietly as his resolve crumbled.
"I'm sorry! I'm s-so s-sorry! I-I'm...so s-so s-sorry!" he cried into the prince's torso, staining his tunic with salt water. The man did not return the hug, too stunned at the sudden change in demeanour.
"What are you sorry for? You didn't do anything wrong!" he exclaimed, arms still raised in surprise.
Robin tried to formulate a response, but all he could get out was incoherent wails. After a moment, Chrom hugged him in return, and guided him to sit on one of the chairs at his desk, opposite the other. When he finally calmed down enough to speak, he pulled away and looked up at the prince, still hiccupping quietly.
"Chrom, I'm... I'm so sorry. My plan j-just wasn't...enough," he whimpered.
The man's eyes widened in horror, and he fervently shook his head. "You did your best, Robin... You have my thanks. It's my own failures that haunt me now." He gritted his teeth, the grip he maintained on Robin's shoulders tightening. "Gods, I was just so powerless!"
"It's not your fault either, Chrom."
"...She did it for me, Robin," Chrom stated firmly through his remorse. "So that I wouldn't have to live with the guilt of either choice, she chose for me. She sacrificed herself rather than give up what could one day save her people..."
"Chrom..." In a moment of inspiration, Robin stood, placing himself squarely before the prince. "Listen to me. Look at me."
The man did as he was told, meeting Robin's steeled silver eyes above his tear-stained cheeks.
"I was powerless once, too, remember? And yes, alone, I don't think either one of us is half the person your sister was. But together...maybe we can be something more. If you fall, I'll be there to pull you back up. When you fight for your sister's ideals, I'll be by your side. You don't have to become your sister, you know. You can still be true to yourself. You just have to give people hope in whatever way you can."
In doubt, Chrom shook his head. "And what if I can't? What if I'm not worthy of her ideals? Robin, what if I drag you down with me?"
Surely, he should know he was already in this for the long run.
"If you aren't worthy, you'll keep at it until you are. And if we both fall down, well," Robin shrugged, letting a small smile settle, "that's what friends are for, isn't it?"
Chrom could only gape at him after his miniature speech. He hung his head, uttering a breathless "thank you".
A knock, and they both turned to see Sumia standing in the open doorway, Libra, having removed his chestplate and vambraces, standing just behind her, his narrow jade eyes watching Robin warmly.
"Um, Chrom?" Sumia asked tentatively, and gestured to the space of desk between the two. "Why do you have an open bottle of wine?"
Chrom laughed nervously as Robin looked at the desk, seeing the green glass bottle, opened. A bit had spilled and stained the wood. So, that must have been what he'd heard when knocking.
"Have you sorted yourselves out?" Libra queried, arms apart and inviting Robin close.
He hesitated, before standing and moving to lean against Libra, who gladly enclosed him in strong arms again. Even if the man was still a stranger to him, and his heartbeat spiked at the touch, he knew Robin. The amnesiac could only imagine what it was like for his only friend to forget him and refuse contact. He wouldn't be like that if he could help it. If Libra wanted contact despite his unexplained fear, Robin would indulge him.
Even if it raised a few questions.
"What did you two discuss before coming here?" Chrom asked, with a tone implying he did not expect an answer if they wanted to keep it private.
"That I've known Robin since he was two years old," Libra explained briefly. "We grew up together."
Sumia gasped. "That's wonderful! Finally, someone who knows you, Robin."
"Ah..." was all Chrom could come out with.
Robin, face buried in the war monk's warm chest, felt him nod. "Yes, though it seems we've yet to jog any memories. But that's no problem," he seemed to say as an afterthought, tightening his grip on the half-ghoul despite the shiver it sent up his spine.
Robin could not understand this man. But he also could not get himself to think of that as an issue. He would ask about these conflicting signals of fear and affection at some point soon, but not then. All he was fussed about then was the warmth and comfort Libra seemed desperate to drown him in, and the exhaustion he'd built up over the day of crying, and the satisfaction of a stomach finally less gapingly empty.
As though he read his mind, Libra gave a mildly amused hum and excused them from Chrom and Sumia, shepherding them away to Robin's room.
Haphephobia, Libra explained the next morning, without prompt. The war monk said it was a fear of touch, but that he fought to withstand it for Robin's sake. He invited Robin to touch him as often as he liked, only to best give him a little forewarning that he wanted to do so, lest the war monk lash out in panic. Robin duly noted it, and was gentle when initiating contact for the rest of the morning. He stayed as close as he sensed Libra was comfortable with. Or what he claimed to be comfortable with, anyway.
They sat together for breakfast in the mess hall with the rest of the Shepherds — all of whom were present in the hopes Chrom would turn up —, talking, catching up, and enjoying each other's company, as much as they could when one was a stranger and the other elicited constant fear. Much of Robin's past, including his mother, was a taboo subject amidst so many human ears, but they were fine with the war monk giving the tactician subjects to familiarise himself again. Robin made little input beyond his retelling of experiences with the Shepherds, Libra knowing most all there was to know about him.
Finally, the doors opened and Chrom entered, still not wearing any more armour than before, but cleaned up and looking significantly healthier as he joined the khans at the head of the table. The din of conversation immediately lowered and disappeared, everyone awaiting his words, whether he had any or not.
The prince, after a few words with the Feroxi, turned to the Shepherds.
"I know you've all been waiting for what should happen next, so I'll get straight to the point. I won't wallow in remorse. Not now. Now is the time for me to be strong, and lead you all."
The manakete, Nowi, cried out, "That's right. I wouldn't even be here if not for you."
"You gave me your trust and now you have mine," next murmured Tharja, the dark mage they'd picked up at the execution. "...For the time being."
From beside Lissa, Lon'qu stated, "Were you unworthy, I would have left long ago."
"It took great courage and charisma to unite all of us," Virion enunciated with unnecessary flair. "I knew I possessed such talents, but clearly you do as well!"
"Yeah. We all look up to you! You're like a hero to us," Ricken yelled, his small body trembling with excitement.
A grin had taken over Chrom's face with their encouragements, and he answered sincerely, "Thank you, everyone. Your words mean more than you could know. My Shepherds... My warriors... There is work to be done. Gangrel must be stopped so that peace can once again reign in Ylisse. Will you help me?"
Though her eyes were still red, Lissa raised her hand. "You can count me in! I'm tired of crying all the time! It's time to start punchin' stuff!"
"Hear, hear, darling!" Maribelle agreed from opposite her. "Our people have suffered enough."
"Gladly would I fight and die for House Ylisse!" Stahl announced, taking a salute.
Sully punched him on the shoulder, scarlet gauntlet meeting his olive pauldron. "Gladly would I fight and KILL those bastards for House Ylisse!"
Libra inclined his head. "Our hearts echo yours, sire."
Sumia placed her fists on her hips and puffed out her chest. "I will be the unbreakable shield by your side!"
"I'm with you, too! You know. Just in case anyone... Hello?"
Vaike grinned and pounded his bare chest. "Teach is here and class is in session!"
"How much you pay Gregor?" asked the aged mercenary, then laughed. "Gregor make joke! ...Why you look at Gregor like that?"
"Your sister earned my respect," Panne said without her usual snarl. "The last taguel shall champion her."
Frederick stood. "You have grown strong, milord. I may have set a poor example as a knight... but I swear to you," he bowed, "I shall die before any more exalted blood is spilled!"
"...Thank you all. Truly. You honour me with your fealty." Chrom took a moment to gather himself. He then swore proudly, "I will not falter again. We shall answer this outrage! The Mad King must be stopped!"
Khan Flavia grinned. "Right! It's time for ol' Gangrel to get a dose of his own vulnerary! The whole Feroxi army is yours to send crashing against him!"
Khan Basilio laughed deeply. "You young folk — your passions run so hot! If I had any grey hairs, you would've singed 'em right off. In other words, count me in!"
The young woman who had smuggled them out of the Midmire, Olivia, slowly moved forward from the crowd, the thick ponytail and twin plaits of rose hair gliding behind her. She wore surprisingly revealing white clothing for a Feroxi girl, black translucent material over her arms and legs, the latter not covering her inner thighs and hanging from feathery clips on her hips. She wore golden rings on her upper arms and heels, a sash hanging from her large bracelets.
"I'd like to go too, if I may," she said quietly to the prince. "The exalt did me a kindness once."
"She did?"
"Y-yes, sire. It would honour me to have a part in giving her justice! Although all I can do is dance... And I'm not so skilled at that, if we're being honest..." She trailed off, a bashful red tinging her cheeks.
"Har har! She's too modest!" Khan Basilio wrapped his arm around her pale shoulders, squeezing her against his side. "Olivia is a Feroxi treasure. You won't meet a finer dancer in all the realms! Her moves inspire soldiers to work twice as hard! You'll do well to bring her along, Commander."
Chrom cocked a brow. "'Commander'? What happened to 'boy'?"
"You've earned your way up from that name, I think. Now, where were we? Oh yes! I was just about to start cracking skulls!" shouted the West-Khan. "Flavia will lead me and the other Feroxi in a head-on assault. That should buy you enough time to take down Gangrel. Hear that, boy! You get the fun part!"
"I thought you weren't going to call me—"
Again, Khan Basilio cut in, "You and Robin have my every confidence. You're a born leader, and he has a knack of guiding troops to victory. You both have some growing to do yet, but I can already see you'll grow tall. Well," he glanced down to the tactician, "figuratively speaking."
Libra stifled a laugh. Robin would have felt bad elbowing him.
Mouth still hanging from the interruption, it took Chrom a moment to form a grateful, "Thanks, Basilio."
"Alright, enough talk." The West-Khan clapped his fist into an open palm. "It's time to raise some hell!"
"Right."
Basilio clapped the prince across the shoulders. "Let's get to it, then! Gangrel may try to hit us while we're still licking our wounds."
"Let him try," Chrom answered without missing a beat. "This time, I'm ready to dethrone the Mad King, once and for all."
A/N: One guest reviewer tried to decipher a moral in the last chapter.
"Your life might be considered a mistake, but it doesn't matter because you exist and people love you [...]."
Each to one's own, I guess.
You finally got something positive today — a well-deserved reunion for the little and not-so-little cinnamon rolls.