Author's notes: REWRITTEN as of September 24, 2014.

Yeah chapter 36 USED to be the greatest embarrassment of this fic, but not anymore. I've finally finished my overhaul, so guess what? Y'all get the new version. For those of you reading the fic for the first time, thank your lucky stars you weren't reading the old version of this chapter.

In any case, here's a brief summation of what this chapter contains: Chrom having issues all throughout, Frederick referencing G2G's fic Time Matters Not, Welsh being a good guy, Lon'qu getting his butt dragged out of hell, an anxiety attack, and more of Welsh being a good guy. May contain nuts. (I know, I've already made that joke, but it's a good one.)

Just posting this where the old chapter used to be before I get dragged off for my root canal and more than likely conked on painkillers. HOO BOY.

I don't think I'm ever going to a party in a tavern again. Everything was great at the start. People were nice, made jokes I could laugh with, nobody did anything stupid. Then came the booze.

The list of people who can't hold their liquor is as follows– Ricken, Tharja, Cordelia, and Miriel. Cordelia's been outright embarrassing and it's only mitigated by one thing: Storm. She's been talking about how incredible Chrom was, and every time she mentions him, Storm just turns her around to face him and she goes– I'm not even kidding– "Oh. Somehow I forgot about the most dashing man alive!" before pausing her revelry due to guilt.

This isn't a party, it's a train wreck. But at least most of the Shepherds get to spend the train wreck with their dearly beloved.

… In my case, I'm not entirely sure this is still Chrom. I did a goddamn character study of him before we even met, he shouldn't be… quite like this. Aye, he ought to be weeping from Emmeryn's death, and I'll be damned if he didn't try to hide it in front of the Shepherds, but there's a subtle tell about his movements– slow, despite quivering everywhere; dead, half-open eyes; breaths so small one can hardly see them. These hints all tell me he's not just grieving like hell, but he's still angry. Such a storm of emotion that basically emotions in entirety are being shut down so he doesn't have to feel them. It's a thing, it's one of the many coping mechanisms I used to function with depression. … Except I was too hopeless to be mad, and Chrom's just…

… No, I'd better get out of that pool of thought.

At any rate, I can tell he needs help, he desperately needs help, but before this train wreck even started, Frederick wheeled me aside and began with a strict dressing-down on rules.

"Rule one: You are not to share each other's beds until you are married. I don't care if we're about to step into the gates of hell and are guaranteed to die, you will be married before anything happens.
"Rule two: If milord should find himself in tears on your account, rest assured you will find yourself in tears on my account.
"Rule three: Any private time you share will involve someone else nearby; moreover, you are not to touch him tonight. For now, your only flights of fantasy and romance are to be found in written accounts.
"Rule four: While milord in allowed drink for this celebration, particularly so as to heal his wounds, you are to remain sober, and hereafter so is he.
"Rule five: A word about punishments. Should I find either of you missing pantaloons or some kind of shirt, or if any of the aforementioned rules are violated, you are hereby volunteered as the training dummy for all of the Shepherds, and they will be wielding bladed weapons."

What, you thought I was joking? Frederick was even flashing a knife when he asked if I agreed to them. Anyways, Chrom's depressed and needs help, but I can't so much as pat his damn shoulder. My hand goes near him, Frederick glares at me so hard I don't need to see it to perceive it.

I'm really tempted to just freaking pat Chrom's shoulder and hug him, then flip Frederick off and take the damn punishment. Being a training dummy can't be all different from some of the drills I've done in the Twilight Knights.

The hell with it. I pat Chrom's shoulder. Nothing happens. Huh? I wheel around– oh, Frederick's distracted by Lissa doing some shenanigan. Well, he does have a hell of a blind spot now. Right… It's almost like playing Pokemon in class. Except I'm not exploring Castelia City, I'm trying to comfort someone.

I'm really good at this, mind. I have a ton of experience. Even with all that, though, I don't remember what to do with someone whose emotions are shut down. What he needs is a bludgeon and all the training dummies he can get, and then he can just lash out and get it out of his system. Or maybe a football game to scream at, or whatever popular sport people get enraged by. Or maybe a tearjerker of a movie. Either way, he needs to get this out of him.

… And I really don't think sipping from a mug of beer is helping him. This isn't the grog people have to rely on to survive (water's shit, remember?), this is stuff they get drunk on. Every time Chrom puts his tankard down, I can clearly see him tightly closing his eyes and then reopening them, as if trying to maintain his grip on reality.

I look down into my little glass of tea. Yeah, tea. Storm's been slipping me beer occasionally, but I end up immediately chugging the tea down afterwards because the taste of beer does not sit well with my tongue. Virion offered to share his wine, but I'm taking Frederick's approach and not trusting him further than I can throw him. … Honestly, that phrase just makes me want to try and throw Virion. I take a sip.

Fucking bitter. Needs sugar.

I think Shio saw my lip curling and nose scrunching in disgust, because she just shifted closer to me and wrapped an arm around me. Thanks, buddy. "I'm sorry," she murmurs slowly. "Everyone's having fun and you're…"

I look her in the eyes. Guilt, guilt, guilt. That's her. That's so her. "What the hell are YOU apologizing for? It's not your fault." If anyone's, it's mine. … Call this a twisted way to think, but I wouldn't be in this situation if I didn't ex– if I'd… I'd…

… If I'd stuck to someone else on the battlefield, probably.

"I made my bed," I continue, puffing myself up. "I'll have to sleep in it." This is MY problem, the consequences are MINE to deal with. … Even if I might complain.

"Hey, Shanz." Welsh leans over, a pair of rabbit ears leaning over his shoulder. "You'll be all right, right?"

Oh? Daww… I'm kinda touched. I thought he didn't like me too much lately, but he still pauses snuggling his velveteen rabbit to ask about me. Thanks, bro. "Yeah, I've dealt with worse." Like myself. Seriously, this from Chrom is nothing. Now, from myself? That would be a bit harder. I've wrestled with these issues in myself before.

Storm leans over with his beer, grinning. "No need to worry at all, Welsh, this is Shanz, my sister, tough as nails." OH GODS. All three of us just gagged. His breath is rank with alcohol. My eyes are fucking watering, look. He's even attracted Chrom's attention.

Welsh, being the sensible one, pushes Storm away. Fast. "Get a fucking mint, dude. You stink. I thought Cordelia was a bit of a neat freak, and you're a complete mess." He looks between Storm and myself. "How are you two even related?"

"Paradox twins?" I shrug. "Seriously, Storm, what the fuck?"

He stops himself and glances down his bottle of beer. "It's the little sister who's smart, the older brother who's broken. 'Deliaaaa!" He immediately flees into the arms of his fiancée, who scolds him– even though she's just as drunk as he is– for being irresponsible. Someone had better slap him or something– oh, there it was, Cordelia did it. Thank you. Weren't their roles swapped just a moment ago? Sweet Naga.

I'm a bit worried. "Welsh," I stay focused on Storm cheerfully shouting that it's a party, everyone should relax and let their hair down, "can you make sure he doesn't do anything stupid?"

He sigghhhs. "Fine. He'd better not do anything dumb." He sits against the bar and observes, scratching at his stubble every now and then. Man needs a shave. He could also use a haircut, but I kinda gave up nagging him about that a long time ago. Wait, if he's married to a bunny, I suppose she won't mind him having so much hair. I dunno.

"Oh, yeah," I add, "you're allowed to slap him. He'll probably need it." He doesn't grin or anything, he just nods and rubs his face. Panne adjusts to sit by him and murmurs something about a duty to protect members of his warren.

So, I just kind of sit there for a bit. I exchange Chrom's beer tankard for one filled with clean water, ignoring him frowning at the lack of taste. Oh, dumbass, I have to care for you somehow. What else…

Well, I could describe more of the scenery. This is a pretty upbeat tavern, the floors, stools, and tables WERE– before we came in– nicely polished, and the place is well-lit. We've got some minstrels playing tunes– not everyone appreciates Storm's taste in synthesized music– so naturally, several of us are dancing. Surprisingly, Olivia's on the sidelines, clapping and cheering for everyone who IS dancing. Something about not wanting to steal the spotlight. The highlight of the dancefloor is Nowi, who has no clue what she's doing, but she's having fun. I believe Vaike asked Tharja earlier if she could do something for Nowi's amnesia, and the price was– predictably– a lock of Robin's hair. Whoever's dating Tharja should step in and do something about that.

Oh, speak of the goddamn devil. Vaike's come over here, and while he's pretty good at holding his liquor, he's had a lot to drink. A lot. Thankfully, he's distracted by Lissa– who is doing a really good job of holding him off so Chrom won't be bothered. Ugh… If I had the fists for it, I'd slug him so hard…

"You're not drinking, are you?" Huh? Oh, Nin, hi. I shake my head and sip my tea. "Good… I'm glad that you're smart. I can't believe Cordelia drank so much." Her shoulders are raised up high, very high.

"You need a hug?" I tilt my head at her. "I can't imagine this is pleasant for you." On the other hand, she just spoke a lot more than she usually does. A party where everyone gets drunk and does stupid things, yeah, it's not pleasant unless you're in the drunk portion. It's a good thing Lon'qu is of a like mind, he hasn't touched any of the mugs.

"No… I'm good." She lowers her shoulders a little and glances in the direction of Gregor, Ricken, and her husband: Ricken is sloshing around a little mug and giggling, Gregor seems to be developing a headache, and Lon'qu's feet are pointed away from the two. Why doesn't he just– oh, every time Lon'qu tries to leave them, Gregor pulls him back because he 'shouldn't have to suffer alone.'

"You should go rescue him," I comment.

"Gregor won't let me," Nin sighs.

"He's your husband." They got married in a tent a while back, believe it or not, apparently Lon'qu wanted to avoid a formal ceremony. Nin brings me back to now with a murmur– something about Gregor being belligerent. All right, then. "Mind Chrom for me, I'm gonna save your squishy." I hop off my stool and walk over.

"So then I shouted, 'don't talk down to me, witch!' and she backed away in shock, because who says that? Me!" Oh gods, I'm tuning Ricken out right now, this is so dumb. He's slurring his words, so I'm having trouble making out what he's saying. I grab Lon'qu– who squeaks in shock– and forcibly drag him away.

"Oy! Gregor has need of silent swordsman!" He tries to reach for him, but I swat his hand away.

"So does his wife, she's higher priority. You're shit outta luck." I toss Lon'qu to Nin, and he stumbles right into her, red-faced and apologizing. I turn back to Gregor and crack my knuckles– thankfully, the old coot just puts his head down on the table surface instead of meeting my challenge. I figured he'd back down, no need to make the situation more hectic.

I return to my stool. "Thank you," Lon'qu grumbles. Oh, he's pulled up a chair to sit by– er, relatively close to Nin. The two of them are making the exact same statement in body language, shoulders up and all.

"Don't mention it." I pat Nin's shoulder. I know she has a bit of trouble talking to people, that's why I did it myself. Besides, I need to step out of my comfort zone every now and then.

"How's he?" Lon'qu nods his head towards Chrom. Wait, is our resident gynophobe actually conversing with a woman? What a miracle, maybe he's conquering his fear somehow. Somehow.

I look at Chrom– and he's looking straight at me when I turn my head around, that's creepy. Chrom's just, um… quietly eyeing me. I suppose observing? Uh… Okay, I'm so confused, I need to ask. "Er… You all right?"

He looks away at last, rubbing his temples as he does so. "Yeah. I just wanted to make sure you…" He looked into his tankard, probably contemplating another sip. "… you were all right. You're all right, all right." And there's his sip.

Okay, got that confirmed. I turn back to Lon'qu. "And there you have it, he's okay. Quiet, but okay. He'll probably have a nasty headache tomorrow, but then again I think that's true of most of the Shepherds."

"Good." Lon'qu nods. "It would be a shame if something happened to him. … Excuse me." He stands, contemplating the exit. Nin takes the hint and stands by him, and the two leave. There go the first two party members to leave for the evening.

I wish the drunkards would follow suit, it'd get a whole lot qui––––

"HEEYYYYA, SHANZ! WHY SO SERIOUS? C'MON! LET YOUR HAIR DOWN AND PAAARTAAAY!"

…

…

Gods…

My head… that was loud… Shit, I think I'm tearing up. Stench combined with being yelled at. Ugh, I need to get the hell out of here. Now. Get out. Escape. Run–

"What are you doing, Vaike." Chrom? Low voice. Angry. Oh no. Panic. No, don't touch the panic button. No. Just stay still! Don't do anything!

"Well, we won the waaar!" Naga! He's still loud! Shut up! SHUT UP! "It's time to celebraaaate!"

Wasn't Lissa holding him off? Oh, my head.

Step. "Have you forgotten what we lost?" Oh no, no, no. Chrom's about to lose his temper, no. NO. Do not––

"This is the time to celebrate winning, not thinking about what we lost! But here's to them!" Vaike raises a tankard up, splashing froth on the floor. "Hail the victorious dea–"

Thump thump, smash, thud. Vaike's on the floor, his mug in pieces. Chrom shifts to sit back down and faces me, nursing the hand that dealt the blow. Naga.

"Are you all right?" He's asking ME? HE JUST BELTED VAIKE! One of his best friends! Fuck, Chrom, what's wrong with you?! "He didn't bother you, did he?"

…

"Shanzy?"

His eyes widen a little, I'm doing nothing but shaking and staring with similarly wide eyes. He seems to realize something, as his eyebrows raise as well, and his lips curl back– perhaps self-disgust? The color drains from his face as the final touch.

"Oh no." He echoes my thoughts, sitting back. "Oh no." His eyes turn to regard his hands, particularly the one that just hurled a punch. "I… what did I just do?"

I'm still frozen, I still can't move, I still can't think. Otherwise I'd say something– I don't know what. I'd tell him… to… I'd… I'm stuck.

"… One of my own comrades…"

No no no…

Slowly, deliberately, Chrom gets off his stool. Nowi starts shouting at him, but he seems not to register it as he walks– almost calmly– towards the door. I can barely see his irises, his eyes are almost shut.

And he just walks out.

I sprint after him.

He hadn't gone far. I step in front of him before he puts any real distance between himself and the tavern. "Chrom." Words are slowly coming back to me.

"Stay away." His voice trembles. "You could get hurt…"

Inhale. "I don't give a damn–"

"I'm a monster… a backstabbing monster who just… kills… everyone… I killed so many people in Plegia, and now I'm turning on… on my comrades." He tries to walk past, but I stand firmly in front of him. "I should have died, not her… I'm just the same as my father… I… How can I fill her place?" Tears start streaming out of his eyes. "He was right… Gangrel was right… I am my father…"

He trails off, but I don't really have a response. Um…

"… You should leave me while you can. Before something happens to you…"

Oh, for the… This I can respond to. "Boss." Because it's easier to say this as a Shepherd, not his fiancée. "Part of the job is sticking to you even when you're at your weakest. Now, for an ordinary person, I'd have trouble with this, I tend to shy away from this crap for the sake of my own sanity. But you? I'm kind of in love with you, stupid, so abandoning you isn't an option. Not only that, but I'd honestly rather stick by you. Someone's gotta be here for you, and someone competent. Deal with it."

Azure eyes stare into my own, not watery or ocean-like, but flaming. The hottest blue fire. His eyebrows have dipped deeply into his eyes, no doubt partially obscuring his vision. His lips curl back slightly, baring teeth. "You're only saying that because you love me for some twisted reason. Forget about me. Get away before you become a monster, too." He slows down. "You're good… A good person. Don't turn… like I am…" The flame fades as he looks to the ground. I feel a cold spot on my arm, then my head. Rain.

I set my shoulders back and puff out my chest, my heels together with a slight distance between the toes. "Sir." I give him the hardest gaze I can. "I would sooner die than leave your side, milord." Shut the fuck up, I know it's campy.

"Then die, you two-lived– no!" He stops himself. "No… Gods… End it now… Kill me and bring her back… please…"

Too demoralized to stand, Chrom falls to his knees. Oh, what am I going to do… What he needs is warmth and comfort. I take off my coat and drape it over him, both to warm him and protect him from the rain.

"Day to night, dark to light, fall the sands of time."

What is done is done. The sunglass cannot be overturned. Emmeryn is gone.

"Let the years, like the gears of a clock unwind."

Either I'm imagining things, it's the rain, or there are footsteps nearby…

"In your mind, walk through time, back to better days..."

Better days… Those very days when I had nothing to do but lose myself in a dream. They haven't gone away at all.

"Memories, like a dream, chase tears away!"

Memories chase tears away… You have a ton of good memories, Chrom. Surely some of them can sustain you now… Like a hoard of food when winter comes. And there will be many more memories to come.

"Like a star in the sky, darkness can't reach you,"

Trapped in a spiderweb of darkness… Not this timeline. One bright lodestar broke its bonds, and because of that, day will come again.

"Light the night– joy is light– till the new day..."

Optimism. I know it's hard. Emmeryn is gone, but in her place there will be new family members, and they will learn our lessons and be freed of our chains. Humanity breeds faster than it dies.

"Cast away that old face, full of gloom and spite,"

Take these words to heart now, learn from my errors if you can. Twenty years of experience and I already have a lot to teach… How is that? Am I just surprisingly strong for my age?

"With this mask, I shall ask, give me your light!"

Thud. Footsteps. Chrom seems to have dozed or something– exhaustion and alcohol do that– while three figures, all masculine, clump together and approach.

"Wowee." A guttural voice. I know where this is going already. "What do we have here?"

Of all the fucking times––

"I dunno, man," says the one on the left, "but I like the look of that girl. She's smokin'! Man, a pair of hips like that…"

"Boss." A pipsqueak on the right speaks. "The guy over there looks rich, too… Ought to be real easy, huh?"

"Like cullin' the runt piglet." The leader, the owner of the guttural voice, steps forward. "Arright, lady, come here and we won't hurt you none."

"I… I'm… Not a lady," I stammer.

Why am I stammering?!

"You gon say you a man, sweetass?" The one on the left snorts, approaching, hands on his hips.

"I am a woman," I explain with a trembling voice. "Not a man, not a lady. A woman. Back away, or I will kill you all." I crouch a little– not shifting my weight, only bending my knees a lot– to reach for Falchion's hilt.

"She's prolly the whore the rich guy paid," scoffs the leader, stepping forward in a gait that is all too wide and confident. "Guess he drank too much."

I unsheathe the blade and fluidly settle into the longsword stance the Twilight Knights have drilled me into. "As a proud member of the Shepherds," I begin, "I will not stand for this. Leave with your tails tucked, or die."

The squawks of outrage are immediate, all three of them grip their blades. "I'll teach you a thing of respect, girl––"

WHAM!

They're all on the ground? … Can I relax now?

"Milord! And Lady Shanzira! Are you all right?!"

Frederick… didn't I just say I'm… not a lady…?

And Chrom… Right. He's… "Exhaustion… He's not thinking."

"Damn this rain," Frederick swears. "My apologies, milord, for my tardiness–" Did he miss the memo that Chrom's out of it?– "Vaike proceeded to–"

"Frederick, Chrom's a little too out of it to give orders." I squat and place Falchion back in its sheath where it belongs. Very glad I didn't have to use it. Naga, that was… Scary, to say the least. "Get back to the Shepherds and make sure nobody does anything stupid."

Frederick eyes me oddly at the authoritative tone in my voice. What, did you not think I was ever capable of thinking straight? Or are you just too accustomed to me being the lover who does nothing but fawn over her squishy or panic in a bad situation? It's been a while, I thought you would have revised your opinion of me by now. "HEY! Snap out of it!"

… Yeah, I'm still a bit bitter. Shut up. "… Right," he murmurs. "What of milord?"

What is this, a test? Either way, brown eyes are glaring at each other. "I'll carry him back myself. Gods know I need the exercise."

"Romantic, but not exactly sound," Frederick scoffs. "I do not trust you alone with him, nor do I believe you will be able to protect both him and yourself with only Falchion as a weapon. Turn him over, Shanzira."

"It's as much my job as it is yours to keep this idiot safe, if not MORE my task. Someone has to keep the rest of the Shepherds from being idiots, and you have infinitely more authority over them than I do. If you don't trust me alone with him, have someone else go with me." Like Shio. Or Welsh. Actually, Welsh and Panne would be best, the pair of them weren't enjoying the party anyways, and Panne would be able to detect anyone with ill intentions through the rain. "I'd suggest Welsh and Panne." … I may as well nominate them, seeing as I perfectly justified them in my head.

He steps back a little. Surprised? Guess what, I can think tactically. … And to think I used to think of myself as a shit tactician. Well, everyone grows into the roles we're given, right? I guess I'm going to grow into the role of a queen, then. … Hoo boy. At any rate, Frederick just went inside the tavern, probably to grab the bunny and her boy.

Chrom twitches. Oh, he's awake? "Are you done moping?" Ugh. I could have put that more diplomatically. This is not how to deal with someone who's having trouble believing in themself. I repeat: Do not take my advice.

Chrom's head drops a little– I hadn't even noticed it rise up, but apparently it did. "I'm sorry." He grits his teeth and takes in a breath.

Hoo boy… I'm sighing a lot. Effort. "My gods, something's wrong when I pick up your sword and you're not dead." I know from experience– blunt steel can be just as deadly as sharpened. Falchion may not be steel, but it's still heavy. (Weight rating of 7, I think, back in Shadow Dragon. Gods, Chrom always having Falchion spoiled me; when I went back to the older games and I only had rapiers and the other lords' iterations of them, I kept grumbling.)

Chrom looks up at me, eyebrows arched instead of dipping. "You can't even… Falchion only cuts for a few."

I just fucking explained this.

"I can wield a shovel, I can wield a blunt sword." So, shut it. If I had my sketchbook on me, I'd hit him with it. Not hard, just like a person would swat a bad dog with a newspaper.

"I put… I put you in danger…"

Okay, I'm never going anywhere without my sketchbook ever again. I will fucking find a way to carry it on the battlefield. Chrom needs a good swatting, and I have nothing soft and papery to do it with. My hands are too bony, they'd hurt.

"I put myself in danger each and every day." Hell, just living in this world is dangerous. "I stared down Gangrel of all people, fought him, and survived, I'm pretty fucking hard to kill, Chrom." By that logic, I suppose I was hardly in danger anyways. …. Ahahahaha… If only I could convince my nerves of that, I'd be unstoppable. I'd never freeze up in fear again. I look at the ring Chrom gave me– yeah, I'm wearing it. I'm making a point of always wearing it. For fuck's sake, if I'm gonna be Lucina's mom, I had better pass down some good stat caps. Speed and skill, probably, though luck wouldn't go amiss. I probably have an insane Luck cap anyways.

Oh god, I'm going to be Lucina's mom, that's scary.

"Come on, lug." Oooof! Shit, he's goddamn heavy! YES, I just lifted him up! "What a great new workout…" Come on, Shanz. If you can go to school with a goddamn heavy backpack, you can carry Chrom a short way.

"I'm sorry," he sobs, almost delirious. He doesn't sound too cognizant of what he's saying. "I'm sorry…"

What the hell am I supposed to say to this? … "I forgive you."

Much better, right? I don't know when exactly the next update is, I've started on the script but more than likely I'll procrastinate hard. There is some hope, but don't cling to it: Internet at my community college's library is down for construction, so with no skype or Tumblr, all I've got is writing and drawing.

In other news, the Shanzira/Frederick ship continues to interest me. Probably mostly because of the way I sank it.