XXV
"I'm going to miss them," the little redhead complained, now staring at her father.
"I would have liked to get to know them better, too," he nodded, "but they've their own affairs they must see to. In the meantime, however, we can persist as a family, just the way we did before they arrived, no?"
"Of course," Morgan smiled.
"Your eyes belie your smile, my dear," he noted, staring back, "I know that look all too well from your mother: you're not really happy yet, are you?"
"...I don't mean to seem ungrateful," she sighed, "I was just thankful to find I had brothers and a sister, but now, all of a sudden... I feel alone again."
"Alone?" the pair craned their necks as Anna chimed in, drifting into the room, "I should hardly think so. You've got your father and I, haven't you? Or are we not good enough company?"
"No, no," she insisted, "I meant what I said... I just... you know... I love you guys to death, but our... unique situation means I don't have a lot of friends my age. Those friends that I do have I can only meet every once in a blue moon."
"Isolation can be difficult, can't it?" her father chuckled, "No matter how close the others are, you'll always feel a mile away."
She lifted her head and her eyes sparkled, "That... that's it exactly. How did you come up with that?"
"Morgan," he grinned with a grandiose inhalation, "you're more like your father than you know."
"Does this mean I can hear another story?" she bounced, "I've been waiting to hear another for a while now."
The merchant nodded at her husband, "Yeah, is there something you'd like to share, Robin?"
"You know this one," he determined.
She shrugged, "I don't remember whatever it is you're getting at. Refresh my memory."
"Sheesh," he sighed, "can't count on anyone to remember anything that matters. It's a wonder you manage a business."
"Uh-huh," she leered at him, "Do you feel you have your own boot lodged squarely enough in your mouth, or would you prefer to try mine?"
"I plead entrapment," he put a hand over his chest, "Now, if you'll stop chiding me for providing you with your free entertainment for the day..."
[*]
"Do you think he'll be all right?" the young lord furrowed his brow. This was the wrong time for this sort of thing.
"Heck, I dunno," his sister shrugged, "He was pretty bad, and we don't have the proper sort of staves to treat this kind of thing."
"You 'dunno?!'" he growled, "Lissa, for gods' sakes, I can understand having bad news but could you be a little less condescending and casual about it?!"
"What do you want me to do?" she pushed back, "I can't make it any better! You're already panicking!"
"Lissa, come quickly!" begged a voice from within the medical tent, "His eyes are open."
The prince stepped in front of his sister, walking hurriedly to the side of his chief strategist, "Robin, are you okay?"
"F-Fine," he struggled.
"What in hell were you thinking, pulling a stunt like that?" the blue-haired royal demanded.
"We needed to perform some reconnaissance," the tactician explained as to a child, "No one else could do it, so, I sort of... took charge."
"Well 'taking charge' had you wrestling with death for three days straight! Did you consider that when you set out?" he barked.
"I just thought..." his voice wavered, "No, never mind. No, I wasn't thinking."
"Damn right you weren't," the prince sighed, "Please, for my sake, be more careful, all right? I couldn't stand to lose any of my friends, you most especially."
"Yes, sir," he bowed, "I'm sorry, sir."
"Not 'sir,'" Chrom insisted, "I'm not ordering you not to die, I'm praying that you don't, as a friend."
"Right," the tactician rolled over, "Sorry, I'm just... tired."
"Fine, get some rest," the lord concluded, turning out on his heel, "Gods, sitting out in the rain for five hours and you didn't expect to have a problem?"
Lissa watched her brother leave, then leaned over her patient, "He's got a point, you know. What were you doing like that all by yourself?"
"The same thing I always am, it's just that someone happened to notice this time," he thought, stuffing his head into his pillow.
[...]
"I just don't understand it," the prince growled, "He's a smart man, anyone with eyes could see that, but he acts so damnably stupid sometimes."
"What'd he do?" the woman took a sip from her cup.
"Left without telling me to go perform what he called 'reconnaissance,'" Chrom scoffed, "He was just sitting on some parlous cliff in the pouring rain. He caught pneumonia, sitting out there. What a fool! It was downright childish!"
The redhead's ponytail bobbed and her eyes widened as she received an idea and glanced slightly to the side. "That's tough. Some guy," she commented idly.
"Quite," the sapphire-haired man stood and stretched, shaking his head in a minute and dismissive manner, "At any rate, I have some business I must attend to. Thank you for listening."
"Any time," she smiled up at him. She looked back down and lifted the cup back to her lips.
Chrom parted the tent flap and marched out. He paused and turned on his heel, "Oh, and Anna?"
"Yes?" he heard the cup being set down hastily.
"I need you to move your belongings to a different tent for a while. We've had to make some cutbacks. Frederick will be by in a bit to show you where," he announced.
She sighed and cursed him under her breath. Did he really think it was so easy for a merchant to just pack up all her stuff and get out of the way? He was lucky she was an expert. "All right," she groaned a bit.
He shrugged her impertinence off; she was probably busy. At any rate, the prince knew he needed to take control of the situation with which he had been presented, and so made his way back to the medical tent for one last word.
"Back so soon?" the tactician was already up and spooning some steaming broth into his mouth.
"I don't want you to make this a habit, Robin," he commanded sternly.
"No promises," the young man smirked.
"Be serious for a moment," his commander insisted, "You had me decidedly worried that our company would be without a strategist, and even more so that I was about to lose a friend. You push yourself too hard sometimes, Robin, and you're sometimes too quick to take risks upon yourself. Why the rash hedonism?"
"I'm not sure I know what you mean," the tactician admitted, scratching his head.
"Don't worry about it," Chrom sighed, rubbing his eyes, "I just want you to be more careful. That's why I'm having you take the day off."
"Day off?" he repeated, the words sliding off his tongue as if placed there by someone else.
"That's right," he nodded, "No working for the rest of the day. If I see you doing anything strategy related, I'll have Frederick bind you to your cot."
Robin swallowed and shifted uncomfortably at the thought, "Understood."
"Good," Chrom folded his arms, "You're dismissed. You can go back to your own tent now, Lissa approved it."
He rose from the linen and stretched his legs first, followed by his arms and grabbed the still-steaming bowl, carrying it with him, "Thank goodness. I was about to fall asleep again."
[...]
"I assume this means you have your work cut out for you," the knight supposed, bowing his head. It sounded sarcastic, but there wasn't a hint of humor on his face, as per the usual.
Anna was less conciliatory of her feelings, "No kidding." The merchant hung her head; moving all that inventory would take hours! Hours in the hot sun and humid air with bugs all around, and so much heavy lifting... She was almost too sick to begin. Then a thought came into her head: sick. Robin had been ill with pneumonia, as Chrom had told her. She didn't want to work and this might be her first chance to speak to the Shepherds' enigmatic tactician since they had shared that rather odd lunch in the mess one afternoon. Perfect timing. She was already outside and so walked briskly to the temporary residence of the odd young man, finding the tent with ease. "Excuse me," she called moderately from outside, "may I come in?"
"Uh, who is it?" she heard him cough back. There was lethargy about his voice.
"Anna. Remember me?" she hoped.
"Oh, sure," he seemed gladdened, "Anna. Yes, come right in."
She parted the flap and stepped inside carefully, searching the room quickly. She found the young man on his cot, his nose stuck in a book that was propped lazily upon his chest. His knees were bent and his feet moved idly: he was bored out of his mind. Perfect.
"Say, I just realized," he picked his head up out of the text, "you asked permission before entering. This is a first."
He remembered her, all right, "Very funny. I see you're mixing it up, too... Oh, wait, no, you're doing the exact same thing I see you do every day."
"There's comfort in monotony," he shrugged, "Keeping things running the same is kind of my thing."
"I don't see any battle plans," she scanned his desk.
"No, not today," he provided, "I'm busy with other affairs today."
"Oh?" she looked around the room sarcastically, "And what might those be?"
"Well, at present I'm doing my best to entertain a fool," he smirked.
"Ha," she laughed without humor, "Well, if your 'other affairs' don't already have you swamped, I was wondering if you'd be willing to do me a favor."
"I suppose," he stood up from his cot, "What do you need?"
"I've got a ton of inventory to transport today," she frowned, letting a lock of her hair droop onto her face as her entire countenance sank, "and there's so much heavy stuff... A girl can't be asked to carry all that on her own, can she?"
"No, but why should that bother you?" he cocked an eyebrow. She stared daggers at him, looking well prepared to throw a punch. The tactician put his hands out, "Because you handle that stuff all the time, I mean!"
She calmed down and folded her arms, "Yeah, but all in one day? That's a whole lot of moving, buddy."
"Perhaps so," he contributed uselessly, "All right, then. I'll help."
"Oh, thanks, Robin," she smiled sweetly, "that's very kind. Come, we'll get started right away!"
The redhead took them both quickly back to where her tent currentlt rested. Robin's face fell immediately on seeing the pile of goods he would be helping to move to the tent at the other end of camp. He grimaced as he was instructed to begin with a large oak crate that was barely held together with rusted nails, was as large as his entire torso, and seemed quite prone to splintering. He sighed and shrugged as he hefted the massive object and began trudging to where Anna directed him.
"I heard about your little illness," she mentioned as they hit a straightaway.
"Oh? I didn't think anyone other than Chrom knew," he mused.
"He was kind of venting to me," the merchant elaborated.
"I see," he concluded.
She looked over at the tactician, "Why were you out in the rain like that?"
"Scouting. No one else was willing," his tone relayed that he was already fatigued of talking about the subject.
"But why by yourself?" she pressed.
"That's how I do most everything," Robin shrugged.
"That can't be true," she stopped in place, "Well, you do your planning alone, sure, but when you cook... No... Um, on laundry days, don't you... No, that was that manakete girl... What about inventory management? I know... No, that was Chrom I helped..." The merchant remained silent another minute before finally spitting, "I'll be damned." He was still walking, forcing Anna to rush to catch back up to him, "Hey, wait up! Why is it you do stuff all alone, then?"
"I'm used to it, I suppose," he guessed dryly, undistracted.
She stared at him, walking alongside him slowly. Anna furrowed her brow.
An hour had passed with few words between the pair as Robin continued to carry bunch after much of miscellaneous paraphernalia to the faraway tent with, to his credit, never so much as a vocal complaint to his taskmaster.
Anna glanced back over at him as he was carrying a basket of ripe apples in each hand, moving at a steady pace.
"Ohmigosh!" came an excited voice from within the camp, "Those apples! They look amazing! Can I have one?"
Anna looked back forward and saw the blonde princess sidle up to the tactician. She halted her, "Sorry, kiddo, but if you want one of those, it'll cost ya."
Her brother moved out from the same general area as from whence Lissa had emerged, sighing in frustration, "Lissa, what have I told you about leaving while I'm in the middle of talking?"
"But, Chrom..." she sighed meekly, rubbing her shoulder, "the apples..."
"...They do look appetizing," he admitted with a small smile.
"Two gold each," Anna held up her fingers before the prince.
Chrom's smile faded. His sister stuck out her bottom lip, "Chrom... please?"
"Fine," he resigned with a shrug, handing the coins to Anna, "Sorry to hold you up, Robin. Sisters, you know how they can be... Or, perhaps you don't..." The blue-haired man trailed off, "Er, you know what I mean. Sorry. Let's go, Lissa."
"Bye Anna, Robin!" she waved as she was led away by the arm by her now red-faced brother.
Anna watched her companion's eyes carefully as he paused in the road a moment before continuing.
The day continued to move slowly as Robin made return trip after return trip to Anna's tent and carried away the seemingly limitless stock she had prepared for her shop. The fatigue of the moving was not lost on Robin, and Anna could see the exhaustion painted on his face despite a visible effort to conceal it. After hours of rote transportation, the task was finally complete and all the inventory had been moved to its new home. Anna stood and wiped her brow, pleased to be finished. The tactician seemed to have something to say to that gesture, but restrained himself. It had been close to noon when they began, and now the sun was already flirting with the horizon, releasing a yawn of its own sort.
"Thank you," she declared earnestly, "I know that was no picnic."
"Happy to help," he assured her, taking a seat on the ground.
"You okay?" she offered affably.
"Fine, thanks," he decided.
Anna looked toward the back of the camp, "Can I get you something to eat or drink?"
He shook his head, "No, that's all right. But..."
"Go ahead," the merchant encouraged.
He looked to either side and exhaled, "Do you mind if I just... you know, rest a moment?"
"By all means," she nodded, "You can use my cot if you need a little nap."
He stroked the back of his neck nervously, "Well, since you offered..." The tactician crawled over to the small, white, plushy rectangle that sat in the corner of the tent, laying himself down with a sigh of relief. Anna crossed her legs and sat beside his head. "Um, what are you doing?" he opened one eye.
"Nothing, just... relax, okay," she defended, rubbing his shoulder lightly, "sport?"
"What did you just call me?" he looked up once more.
"Just shut it and nap," she insisted, "Never mind me." The redhead removed her hand and let her guest settle in a moment as he turned and grabbed her little pillow, yawning broadly and then, eventually, becoming silent altogether. She tested the waters by pressing her hand to his back. When he did not stir, she smiled and stroked his hair gently, "Oh, Robin... you're not so intangible as you might think. I can read you like a book. You'd never tell Chrom or the others, of course, but, I wonder, would you tell me?" He shifted in his sleep. Anna leaned back. She would have her answer.
[...]
Robin stirred. Crickets were the first recognizable sound that rang in his ear. He couldn't believe it was already that late. The tactician sat up hurriedly.
"Whoa, easy there," chuckled a voice as a palm held back his chest. Anna sat across from him and smiled.
"Sorry," he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, "I've overstayed my welcome."
"Not at all," she assured, "Robin, can I ask you something?"
"All right," he nodded.
"What do you remember about your mother?" she smiled slyly.
"Nothing much," he shrugged flatly, looking away.
"Or what about your father?" the redhead supposed.
"Perhaps even less," he scowled, "Why are you asking, Anna?"
"You've had me concerned all day, mister," she pointed at him accusingly, "but I've gotten to the heart of it now."
"Oh?" he cocked an eyebrow, "And what did the great Sage Anna glean about her humble subject?"
"I know why you've been sitting out by yourself all the time," she touted.
"I told you, it's just what I'm used to," he dismissed.
"Exactly," she nodded, "You can keep up the hard-nosed air as long as you like, tactician-boy, but I know the truth."
"And, pray, what is the truth?" he asked, throat strained by irritation.
"You stay by yourself all day and night because you don't want mommy and daddy to think you've abandoned them. You want to distance yourself from everyone so you can feel accepted by them if you find them," she giggled softly, "Face it, big guy, underneath that tough face you like to wear and that sophisticated parlance, you're nothing more than a boy who's lost his parents in the marketplace."
"Hilarious," he scowled, "now, if you'll just..."
"Siddown, Mr. Grumpy," she laughed as she grabbed him by the sleeve, "I'm not making fun of you, I think it's kinda cute... I mean, endearing. And that's why..." Anna draped her arms around the young man and embraced him. "Robin, I know it's not quite the same, but... You know, I feel like you and I are on the same page, which, in my book, makes us as good as related."
"Anna..." his face strained in resistance.
"And just because you came to us out of nowhere doesn't mean you have to stay there. ...I'll be your family, Robin," she smiled, "I don't have any of my sisters around, so maybe you can be my little brother."
"Little?" he picked his head up.
"Well, yeah," she nodded, as if it was obvious, "I'm the one who's been keeping you stable with all the emotional support. I take care of you more than anyone around here, I think."
"So your 'little' brother is the one who moved your entire stock without you lifting a finger?" Robin cocked an eyebrow.
"Hey," she protested, crossing her arms, "I helped."
"When?" he laughed.
"You know," Anna glanced to each side and chuckled, "I... supervised. Facilitated."
"Uh-huh," the tactician laughed, "why don't you go facilitate this?" He lobbed a soft white garment over at the merchant. It caught her by surprise and blinded her, causing her to fall over.
"You are so dead!" she called playfully, ripping it off, "Get over here, twerp!"
He continued to laugh, "No way! You're going down!" The redhead tackled the tactician to the floor and they collapsed into giggling at their own antics.
[*]
"Aw, mom," Morgan flashed a row of bright white teeth, "that was so sweet!"
"I just figured I owed him for helping me move," she shrugged.
"And now we are proper family," Robin chuckled, "It's funny how things work out, isn't it, dear?"
"Yep. World's full of funny little coincidences," the redhead nodded, "You know what's not funny, though?"
Her husband noticed it, "Hungry babies?"
"Ding," she smiled, putting her index finger over her nose.
"This means I have to get up again, doesn't it?" the former tactician sighed, pushing himself from the chair.
"It's just for a minute, you big whiner," she pushed his back.
He groaned ironically and got up, "Mm-hm... C'mon Morgan."
"No, hold up," she halted him, "Morgan should hang around. She needs to learn a thing or two."
"Anna?" Robin cocked an eyebrow.
"I mean it," she bowed her head, "Morgan's at that age. She needs to learn how this sort of stuff works. It's how my mom showed me."
"Your mom taught you about the facts of life by making you sit around while she breastfed one of your siblings?" her husband laughed.
"Look," Anna provided, "she was an old fashion kinda woman... It's not important. Morgan just needs to learn, okay?"
He shrugged, "In this subject, I have no qualms about saying you'd make a much better teacher than me." He glanced over at the little redhead, who seemed more than a little confused, "Make sure you ask your mom every little question about how a woman's body works that you can think of, honey, because only she can tell you."
"Right," the girl nodded, walking over to her mother's side as her father drifted out, "So, mother, I noticed I'm not quite as... er, robust as you, so, when do you think...?"
"Morgan, sweetie," her mother sighed, "please not now." Robin stifled a laugh
[...]
"I know it wasn't easy," the silver-haired man noted.
"It's... No, it's better for her this way," his younger brother admitted.
"You still think about it, I'm sure," Steven trailed his hand along the old table.
"It's hard not to," the assassin agreed, "but I'm more surprised it wasn't you who did it. You were cognizant enough to understand all of it, to feel what was happening."
"Perhaps that's what made the difference," the orator conjectured, "I was avowed of my senses enough to accept it. You were only presented with the fact when it was slated to be the most painful."
Leo hesitated a moment, staring down, "Do... Do you still remember it? What it was like?"
"I don't believe I could wash that stain from my mind if I tried," the silver-haired man smiled wryly. The smile dropped into a scowl, "It was horrible. There was all that blood, and mother... mother was screaming so loudly... I just dove into a corner and covered my ears. I tries to block it out, but nothing could stop the sound from reaching my ears..." The young man's eyes narrowed, "It was as if someone was playing the sound right in my ears. No matter where I went, all I could head was her screaming. When that baby was delivered, I wanted nothing to do with it."
"Maybe we weren't so different at that moment," Leo glanced up at his brother.
He nodded deferentially, "I most certainly had my moments. When I was told the news, well... I don't know that I was surprised, but I just felt cold, like nothing was meaningful anymore... I wanted to crawl into a hole and die. I felt like someone had wedged a knife in my heart that I couldn't remove."
"What changed?" the man with the auburn hair pressed.
"That baby girl who had reviled me before... I was shown her face, and I saw she wasn't a monster. No, she was a regular baby girl. And when father told me he trusted me to take care of her, as well as you and Sylvia, well... There was no way I could hate that little girl. I'm sorry you felt differently."
"No use getting into it," the assassin breathed, "The past is in the past."
But as vividly as Steven had recalled his own trauma, the image of Leo exacting the strength of his impulse on the girl would never disappear from his mind.
"Leo?" she halted him, drawling the way she always had, taking too much after her sister, "I wanna know, are we... square?"
"No, we are not 'square!'" he growled.
"I've tried to be reasonable with you, Leo, really I have, but what more do you want from me?" she threw up her arms, "What can I do?"
"You can disappear!" he growled, throwing out his fist.
It took almost a full minute to register what he had just done. There was a red, ovular mark on the girl's forehead. It bled slightly. She neither groaned nor moved, only lay in the grass, flat on her back. The assassin gazed down at his hands. No time for second thoughts, it was done. He needed to run, and so he did, to the gate with his brother and twin sister, leaving the little redhead abandoned in the ocean of green.
"Steve, Leo, you ready?" their sister beckoned.
"Coming, Sylvie," the silver-haired man stood, "Leo?"
"I'll just be a minute," he provided, staring at the table. He reached into his pocket, retrieving the item he had so long stored there: a red scarf. The young man with the auburn hair dropped the article on the table.
"Morgan... Au revoir."