Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem. Fire Emblem belongs to Intelligent Systems and Nintendo.
They'd lost her mother.
Somehow Robin had found her own way to them.
And then her mother had vanished between one breath and the next.
Gone.
She was gone.
Lucina stared at this Realm's Aunt Lissa and Chrom, doing her best to digest what they were telling her. The words, she understood.
Individually.
But string them all together, and they turned topsy turvy. Snow in the summer. Custard on bear meat. Fire raining down from the sky.
"There are no clues? Nothing to indicate how or where she went?"
Aunt Lissa sniffled into her handkerchief and shook her head. Chrom's glower and his stranglehold on Falchion reminded her of one of the few times she had ever witnessed her father being afraid. He had paced then as he did now. A caged dragon, but with no enemy in sight.
Sir Frederick cleared his throat, his expression stiff, even for him. "I am afraid that I am likely to blame. When Robin appeared, I—"
"Oh, stop it, Frederick!" Aunt Lissa cried. Her eyes were puffy and her complexion splotchy. And that had been before she'd burst into tears shortly after Lucina had arrived. "It's my fault, and we all know it! If I hadn't talked Miriel into casting that ties that bind spell, none of this would have happened!"
Lucina cast about desperately for anything that made even a modicum of sense. "Ties that bind spell?"
Aunt Lissa's eyes went wide and she slapped her hands, too late, over her mouth.
"An enchantment to make her true home feel more welcoming," Chrom supplied with a worried look in his sister's direction.
"Her true home?" Lucina looked carefully at each of them in turn. "From all I have witnessed, she is quite happy as things are."
Gaius strolled over, whistling long and low. "Did someone die or something? Because all of you look like—"
"Nonsense," Magister Miriel murmured. She polished the lenses of her spectacles with the edge of her sleeve. "While downcast, all of the research I have done up until now would indicate concern or anxiety rather than grief. It is quite common, depending on the temperament, of course, for some to exhibit atypical reactions due to the presence of internal or external stressors. Why if—"
Gaius liberated half a pie from a pouch tied to his belt. "You know, Specs, talking in the common tongue is a lot easier than you'd think."
"We were just explaining that Robin has gone missing," Lady Sumia said. Her hands were clenched around a tangle of stems, their petals resting delicately at her feet.
Missing.
Her mother wasn't gone. She was just . . . missing.
"Bubbles is missing?" Gaius asked, dusting the pie crumbs off his hands. "She wander off or something?"
"I think something went wrong with the spell," Aunt Lissa told Magister Miriel. She swiped her sleeve across her eyes.
Magister Miriel pursed her lips as she pulled a sheaf of papers out of her sleeve. "While there are any number of possible ways that particular spell may have been misapplied, I am quite certain that it would not have misfired in that manner."
"What?" Aunt Lissa had her hand on her hips.
Gaius pulled an apple out of one pocket and a small jar of honey out of another. "Lots could have gone wrong, but not that kind of wrong."
"So Robin's probably all right, then?"
Lucina narrowed her eyes. Lady Sumia was like a second mother to her, which meant Lucina knew every shade and tone of her voice nearly as well as she knew her mother's.
There was something they weren't telling her.
"Yeah, but how do you explain her just going poof?" Aunt Lissa set her jaw so it only wobbled a little.
Poof?
Her mother had—
"I need to talk to my father," Lucina muttered to herself as she tried to still the panic racing through her thoughts. This was not going to be a pleasant talk, but finding her mother took first priority.
And if there was one thing her father would move heaven and earth for, it was her mother.
"Didn't you say that would be a very bad thing to do?" Aunt Lissa asked. She'd stuffed her handkerchief somewhere and grabbed Lucina by the arm. She hadn't glanced at the Chrom of this realm, but it was easy to see what she was thinking.
"Ordinarily, yes," Lucina sighed. "But with Robin missing, he will be our surest way of finding her." She stopped just short of saying the thought that pierced her heart. They would find her mother, and her mother would be there to be found.
All would be well.
There was no other option.
"Do you know where he is?" Chrom asked, the worry line between his eyes easing away.
Lucina shifted slightly. "It will be a simple thing to locate him, yes."
"Good." He visibly straightened as though a crushing weight had been lifted. "Then will you take us to him? The sooner we can find Robin, the better."
His eyes burned with determination.
Determination and something else . . .
Lucina's eyes widened as an unpleasant thought wormed its way into her consciousness. It was impossible that she hadn't seen it before. That she hadn't even thought to consider exactly how similar her father and his counterpart would be.
"Milord, perhaps we should find out a few more details before we rush in."
And why she had no memory of him now.
Chrom shook his head. "Robin vanished on our watch. It is only fitting that we bring her back."
Lucina grimaced. She could already hear the dragon-sized lecture she was going to receive if she ever gathered enough courage to visit the Lady Tiki again.
Fortunately she had two and a half wars to ameliorate, two very important assassinations to prevent, and a world to save in the meantime.
Right. Now to—
"Er, you are going to take us with you, aren't you?"
"Don't be silly, Chrom." Aunt Lissa gave her a look brimful of meaning. "Of course we're coming."
"You might want to wait for a couple of your chicks to hatch first, Princess."
Aunt Lissa turned, hand on hips, her staff glowing dimly. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Gaius shrugged as he pulled out another sweet. "From the sound of things, Bubbles just went poof."
"And?" Chrom frowned.
"And . . . Did it occur to anyone that maybe Bubbles left on her own?"
Lady Sumia stepped forward before Lucina could. "Robin would never leave. Not like that."
Gaius held up his hands in surrender. "You have to admit she wasn't in the best frame of mind. I mean, she was leaking essence."
Beside her, Chrom's demeanor changed completely. The blood had drained from his face, and that look in his eye was back. The trapped frustration of being completely powerless against forces greater than himself.
It was a feeling Lucina understood well.
He glanced at his sister. "How long does she have?"
"I mended most of her." Aunt Lissa tapped the stone on her staff absently as she worked out her calculations in her head. "But this is Robin we're talking about . . ."
Lucina shifted her weight from foot to foot, her arm aching to release Falchion from her sheath and aim her at simple, uncomplicated problems.
Like a horde of Risen.
She wanted to tell them that where she was going, they couldn't follow.
She should tell them.
Right now.
But the more she watched them, the more she listened to the murmured conversations—from Lady Sumia fretting over whether or not she had enough flowers to Magister Miriel working out some way of tracing Robin's essence that nobody really understood—the more she recognized the heroes from the stories they used to tell to keep despair at bay.
And in them she glimpsed the feeling of family that had once encircled them all in what she'd thought was a protective boundary. A fairy tale where true love conquered all and everyone had a happily ever after.
Nothing could touch them. No evil dragon prevail.
Until they vanished one by one, finding their end not between the pages of a story, but along the cold and cruel length of the battlefield.
Lucina startled when something soft and floral brushed against her cheeks. She raised a hand and felt the cool tracks of tears she hadn't remembered crying.
"You're very close to her, aren't you?" Lady Sumia dabbed Lucina's face with her handkerchief a few more times.
She nodded, at a loss for words.
"We're going to find her. You can take heart in that." Lady Sumia nodded over at Chrom who was locked in an animated debate between Aunt Lissa and Sir Frederick. "The Captain would give his all even if she was just a normal Shepherd. But Robin isn't a normal Shepherd, not to him."
Lucina blinked back a few more tears as she started to understand some of the changes that had been wrought as consequence of her mission.
She, her mother, and—and Morgan had often visited the Mirror Realm. But it had always been empty fields, ancient forests, or crowded marketplaces in far away lands. Never once had they taken any path that would lead them to anyone they knew in the outside realm.
Lucina, being fairly young, had never thought to wonder why.
Lady Sumia's expression softened, and she pressed her handkerchief into Lucina's hand.
"The Captain will search every path, every nexus between this realm and yours. And the Shepherds will be right there to help out. We will find her, Marth. No matter what."
Lucina nodded weakly. As much as she needed to find her mother, that was exactly what she was afraid of.
All time stood frozen as Robin stumbled after the jeweled butterfly. Crimson and plum, ebony and gold, had blinded her to all else that existed.
She was simply a pair of legs created to follow those glittering wings wherever they might lead her.
A foggy part of her consciousness noted that they'd left behind all roads and pathways long ago. Or it might have been only a moment ago. Whatever the case, there was nothing to illuminate whatever feral landscape she trekked through. All was shadow and darkness and determined night.
As soon as the thought had come to her, her step wavered just enough to keep her from plowing directly into something waist high that felt like stone.
The butterfly was its own illumination, and Robin watched with rapt attention as it landed on the stone and slowly fanned its wings.
Once.
Twice.
Thrice.
The markings that looked like crimson eyes closed with each progressive flap of its wings until each set slumbered. Only then did her mind start to filter back as it awakened.
Finding herself alone in a near complete darkness, Robin shivered as her heart started to pound. The darkness wasn't simply the lack of light. She could almost hear the whisper of her fear urging her to flee to a place where shadows could not follow.
She froze in place, unable to retreat, for not even the tiniest indication of a pathway was visible from where she stood. The butterfly was the single point of light for what amounted to her entire world at present.
The butterfly, once it was certain of her attention, fluttered its wings before vanishing into a paper-thin wedge of light where a crack ran through the stone.
Blind panic forced her to leap after the butterfly before even half a thought had had time to form.
Robin caught the slender strand of light bleeding through the fissure. The moment her fingers brushed against it, it pulled her in.
She landed with a solid thump in what appeared to be the entrance of an ancient garden. The granite benches and fountain had been dulled by time, and spider-like networks of cracks had free reign. A fence made of iron peered out from the ivy creeping over it. Patches were burnished with rust, and it ran around the entire perimeter of the garden.
But although the things in the garden had brittled and broken over time, the plants themselves were well cared for, and they grew in a profusion of brilliant colors.
Robin walked along a thin path made of stone with the occasional gem inlaid at odd intervals where they twinkled as she passed them. Although she could not identify the source of light in this Realm, the light had more orange and red in it and the sky held all the colors of the sunset.
Where was she? Was it a safe place or a trap for the unwary? Could she leave if she wanted to? And why had she followed that infernal butterfly in the first place?
As if sensing her thoughts, the selfsame butterfly fluttered into view.
"Why have you brought me here?" she asked, crossing her arms and ignoring the stream of bubbles trailing from her lips.
The butterfly zigzagged in place before fluttering a few yards ahead of her. It rested on the petals of a plump red rose, fanning its wings as it waited.
Robin narrowed her eyes. It hadn't escaped her notice that the butterfly was leading her further along the path, All paths led somewhere. The question was if she trusted the butterfly enough to follow it into uncertainty.
It bothered her that she, herself, was uncertain.
A quick glance over her shoulder assured Robin that if the butterfly was leading her toward certain doom, well, it would be simple enough to run back the way she had come.
Right, then.
Taking a deep breath, she walked down the path toward the butterfly. Once she was about three strides away, the butterfly flew a short distance—this time landing on a flower with pale blue petals.
They continued along the path that spiraled gently inward. With each step, the darkness outside of the garden seemed to press in on her, making it harder to breathe.
Not-Chrom. Lissa. "Marth." They must be frantic by now.
Or were they?
Robin frowned as she struggled to remember how, exactly, she got from there to here. Had she told them she was going? Had they said goodbye?
She put a hand to her head. Her headache, thankfully, had almost completely gone. Did that mean Lissa had patched her up? It had to . . . Didn't it?
Why couldn't she remember?
Had something happened to make her forget?
And, a persistent little fear beat in time with her heart, was it possible that she would forget again?
Robin stopped walking as a kind of pain lanced through her heart, turned her lungs to iron. The idea of forgetting Chrom, the Shepherds, every bit and piece of the life she was living now . . .
Cold horror drew her in, and she nearly drowned in it.
She couldn't forget.
Not again.
Never again.
Death would be a kinder fate than perpetually—
The butterfly landed on her nose, drawing her back to the garden. Robin took a few deep breaths to calm her racing heart. She was fine now. Truly. While she couldn't recall the particulars, she still retained the important things.
Like the way Chrom's eyes always held a hint of laughter. The mischievous gleam in Lissa's eyes when she'd decided to frog someone. The streak of daring that lit up Sumia's face when she was riding that demon spawn of hers.
"Books. I like books. And stories."
As she curved with the path, Robin stopped short when she realized she'd reached the heart of the garden.
The butterfly brushed past her cheek, urging her to complete the journey.
Was this a trap? An elaborate ruse?
But who would have set it? And why?
Strangely enough, she found courage in the questions—enough to examine the stone slab in the center of the small clearing that was piled high with flowers.
Every one of them a rose so deeply red as to remind her of heart's blood.
The memory of the other Chrom, the one more shadow than substance, nearly stopped her in her tracks. He had been dead for a very long time, and bore the air that all the Risen shared. He had come to her then, when they were desperately fighting to prevent the Exalt's assassination, but he hadn't hurt her.
Robin glanced at the mound of roses once more, uneasy. They were the exact shade of his eyes, and she could almost swear each rose was looking at her. Watching. Waiting.
But for what?
It wasn't until she'd made her way to the other side that she saw what the butterfly had been trying to show her.
She reached out, her hand trembling, to brush a few stray petals from the cheek of someone who looked exactly like her.
The woman was nearly insubstantial, and a deep coldness radiated from her being. Her eyes were closed and deeply shadowed, and her skin was so pale she might have been dead, were it not for the gentle rise and fall of her chest.
Caught between pity, wonder, and horror, Robin tapped her shoulder. Was it possible that she was only sleeping? What would Robin do if she really did wake up?
Who slept on a slab of stone and a bed of roses? And why did she have her face?
Just as Robin leaned closer, all the shadows hiding in the roses rose up as one. She put up her arms to protect her face as they streamed past her, their wings a brittle rasp against the air that would haunt the edges of her dreams for a long time to come.
They all swirled to a point a few feet away from her, each one growing less distinct as they melded one to another. In no time at all, they had formed an oval made of such complete darkness that it seemed to leech color from everything that was close enough to touch it.
Robin leaned back even as it seemed to pull her toward it. She braced her hands against the stone slab, careful not to touch the sleeping woman by accident. She kept her gaze trained on the spot, waiting for her deepest fears to emerge. It was just one of those days.
Instead, the Chrom-that-wasn't-Chrom appeared as though the shadows made by the butterflies were a kind of dark looking glass. A framed painting that hung, impossibly, against the cool night air and the sunset. He watched for a long moment, his upper half suspended in the darkness, a wry tilt to his head.
When it became apparent that he wasn't going to appear any further than he already had, Robin let out a breath she'd been holding and loosened her hold on the stone.
"You have the key." The Chrom-that-wasn't-Chrom's voice was husky and a little deeper than it ought to have been.
"Th-the key?"
His lips quirked into a smile as the bubbles left her lips. He nodded, and she raised a hand to her chest. Instead of her tunic, her fingers found the cool metal of the butterfly pendant she didn't remember fastening around her neck. She moved to slip the chain over her head, but stopped at the pained expression that flitted across his face.
Frowning, she glanced down at the pendant to find that it looked exactly like the butterfly that had led her here. As if sensing her thoughts, the pendant warmed for a moment, just long enough for it to flap its wings—
"Ah!" she cried, dropping it. She watched with wide eyes as it stilled and fell against her, right above her heart.
"Will not hurt you. Keep . . . safe." The Chrom-that-wasn't-Chrom's expression became strained, and his voice seemed to come from a great distance.
The shadowy backdrop seemed to pulse, and with each pulse, it grew a little smaller.
Robin wasn't sure what to make of that—of any of this, to be honest. She shouldn't be here. That knowledge sank like diamonds deep inside her bones.
Hard.
Cold.
Dazzling bright.
The darkness shuddered, and for one horrible moment, it looked close to shattering.
The Chrom-that-wasn't-Chrom grunted as the edges of the shadows frayed away. And when he looked at her, Robin found she couldn't bear to look away.
"Save her." He nodded to the woman behind her just as a great crack ran across whatever shadow portal it was he'd opened.
The air grew heavy for one breath, two. Then the dark looking glass really did shatter into a thousand ink-dark wings that fell to the ground, little more than ragged scraps of shadow.
Heart hammering in her chest, Robin turned to look at the woman. Anything to distract herself from the gaping hole of loss burning her heart to cinders.
"Who are you?" she asked, grateful that the woman didn't answer.
She looked down at the path winding away from where she stood. She should be going. She knew she should. The others would be—might be worried. But she couldn't leave now. Not until she was certain she would be able to find her way back.
Holding the pendant in one hand, and resting her other near the sleeping woman, Robin started building the beginnings of a plan.
Back in the Real World . . .
"What do you mean, she's missing?" Chrom demanded, the words struck like ice to his heart. He'd waited half the morning in this courtyard, but nothing turned out as he'd planned. Robin was nowhere to be seen, and he could have sworn that the paperwork Frederick had given him to help him pass the time was doubling whenever he turned away from it.
Marth hunched her shoulders, not quite meeting his eyes. "We became separated suddenly, and by the time I caught up to where she had gone, she had disappeared."
The misery in Marth's expression was second only to his own.
"Do you have any idea where she might have gone?"
Marth shook her head.
Chrom clamped down on the panic rising in his chest. Fear had its place, but now was the time to act. Robin and Frederick could kill him later once she was safely back home.
"You've always come for Robin," he said. "I don't suppose I—"
Marth shook her head. "The Realm requires certain . . . traits."
"What kind of traits?" He narrowed his eyes. There was something about Marth that, while not off, he felt he was missing.
Marth frowned as she seemed to be weighing whatever it was she wanted to say. "There is more than one world out there, and more than one path. Some . . . pathways can only be found by those who are native to those pathways."
"So you're saying Robin isn't from here?" Chrom spoke with a far more measured tone than he felt. He got to his feet, his hand resting on Falchion. If going in search of Robin was impossible, well, he and Falchion would have to do the impossible. Failure was not an option.
Marth hunched up a little more. "We didn't know for certain, before. Only that she had a connection to the other world. I—certain knowledge has come to light that would indicate she is indeed from that world."
"Take me to where you saw her last." Falchion warmed against his hand, reassuring him that she was with him one hundred percent.
"But I—you can't possibly—I'm sorry, but that is out of the question."
For a moment, Marth had been startled into meeting his gaze. In that moment, pieces started falling into place.
"You have the brand of the Exalt in your eye." The words were like a punch to the gut. How could he not have noticed before?
Too late, Marth ducked her head away.
"And you come from the future." Chrom frowned. There was something that still eluded him. "How far in the future?"
"I'm sorry. I can't—"
He grabbed her arm just as she was about to slip away. "You're going to have to if it means the difference between finding Robin or not."
She, too, bore Falchion.
She had the mark.
And Robin's chin and long, delicate fingers.
For a brief instant, the memory of what he'd seen in Regna Ferox burned brightly before his eyes. A small child with his coloring, laughing and tugging at his hand.
There was also the fact that she could travel between worlds, just like Robin.
Marth grimaced a little when she peeked up at him, and paled as he came to a sudden realization.
"You're ours, aren't you?" Chrom didn't know if it was the wonder, the shock, or Falchion zinging against his palm, but the ground suddenly felt unsteady beneath his feet.
A father.
He was a father. Or would be.
But how? And when?
"Please," Marth whispered, her voice little more than ashes. "I have already affected this timeline more than is wise. In this thing, at least, it is vital that it happens in its own time and in its own way."
"Does Robin know?"
Marth shook her head. "She suspects, but she vanished before she could press hard enough to be sure."
His determination had been absolute before, but somehow, standing beside his daughter—their daughter—the earth would crumble away to nothing before he accepted that he had to be left behind to wait and worry.
Frederick would be doing more than enough of the latter for the both of them.
"Well, you heard her. We need your help." Despite the gravity of the situation, Chrom smiled when Marth glanced at Falchion. It was reassuring to know that Falchion had worked to keep his family safe.
Even if one considered that Marth was hardly older than he was now, and yet she bore Falchion with a kind of confidence that could only be gained through long familiarity.
"I'm sorry," he murmured just as Falchion grew hot enough to score the impression of her hilt on his palm.
"Do you truly seek to go beyond your own bounds?" Falchion's voice rang through his mind, clearing it of any other thought.
"Yes," Chrom said without hesitation. There were no bounds where Robin's safety was concerned, so it shouldn't be difficult to go beyond them.
"Do you trust me?" Falchion asked. "And do you trust her?"
He glanced down at Marth who was goggling at him like one of his sister's frogs.
"Of course."
"Good." Falchion flowed out of the sword just enough to form a ghostly impression of herself beside them. "Because while I may bend the laws of the physical world occasionally, some laws are strictly immutable."
Chrom raised a brow. "Meaning?"
"Meaning that you're going to have to keep an open mind. If you charge in as you are wont to do, the Halidom will be mourning their prince."
He frowned. There was something about the way Falchion inflected her voice that was setting off all kinds of warning bells.
"How so?"
"Lend me your strength, and I'll lend you my eyes." She watched him, a smile coiled tightly in the corner of her mouth. It was the same look Frederick used to give him when he'd ask if he could spar with him.
"Robin's safe return is paramount." He had nothing with which to bargain, so he put forth the one thing he would not negotiate.
Falchion narrowed her eyes before she gave him a sharp nod. "We will not be able to maintain this bond for very long, which will put time in your favor. I will do all that I can not to weaken you any more than I have to."
"What do you mean to do?" Marth demanded, falling into a light and ready stance. She rested one hand upon her Falchion's hilt, but had not yet drawn her sword.
"I mean to assist you." Without moving much at all, every single line and shade of her turned sharp and deadly. "I have tasted Robin's heart. It will not be difficult to locate her."
Chrom relaxed some of the tension that had built up in his muscles. It would be nice to have a problem solved so quickly and easily for a change. Would that relations with Plegia could follow suit.
"You can do that? Locate people no matter the realm?" Marth paled.
Falchion smiled as she always did before she bit into her enemies. "Provided the prerequisites have been met, yes. It is a simple thing to do—provided the person survives. Extraction, on the other hand, is where you will come in."
"Me?"
Chrom put a hand on Marth's shoulder. "I believe in you."
For some reason, rather than giving her comfort, Marth looked like she was on the verge of tears. Then, before he could figure out where he'd gone wrong, she threw her arms around him and did her best to mute her tears into his shoulder.
He slowly returned the embrace, marveling at how it felt both alien and familiar all at once. He hoped the future him had been a good father—other than passing Falchion on to Marth far too soon. Regardless, the determination of his purpose only deepened at thoughts of the future.
"Your name," he said once her sobs had receded and her breathing stilled, "it isn't Marth, is it?"
Red-eyed, but beaming, she stepped back and shook her head. "Mother always told us it was your first choice, even after I was born."
Chrom nodded. It was an easy thing to picture, and a conversation with Robin he was strangely looking forward to—
Wait.
"Us?"
She nodded, her expression turning grave.
Chrom's whole being went fairly light as he imagined a castle full of children with Robin's chin and boundless curiosity. He could see them now, tracking in mud from the practice yard on their way to find their mother.
They were going to need a bigger library.
"The sooner we go for Robin, the sooner we return," Falchion said, but for once she didn't look nearly as smug and superior as she often did. If Chrom didn't know better, he would think she'd softened around the edges a little.
As if reading his thoughts, she gave him a sour look.
"What do you need me to do?"
"Sit over here," Falchion said, gesturing to the stone bench a few paces away. "On second thought, you might want to lie down. The binding is taxing enough without you having a concussion on top of it."
"So . . . you want me to just stay here for now?" The stone bench was just as comfortable as he thought it would be, which wasn't very.
"You'll thank me later."
Chrom had only a moment to wonder at her meaning. In between this breath and the next, Falchion jabbed him in the chest with a surprisingly sharp finger. He shivered as the strength drained out of him, glad that he hadn't been standing. In a matter of moments, his stomach started to rebel until he'd grown too weak for even that.
"Stop! You're killing him!" Marth's voice sounded like it came from very far away.
Falchion snorted. "Hardly. He carries more strength than even he understands, and it should be just enough to carry us through. Are you ready?"
"He'll be all right?"
"He'll live, which is more than I can say for some if we don't get going."
"Very well."
Despite feeling like he'd just completed two circuits of Frederick's Fanatical Fitness Hour back to back, Chrom stretched out a hand toward Marth. He didn't like that she should have to carry so many burdens, not when he was there to share the weight of the load.
"Marth . . ."
She bent down and rested her hand on top of his. "Rest well, Father. We'll find Mother and bring her back home."
He wanted to tell her that he should be the one going. That he was sorry for the position she'd been put in by his older self. To reassure her that he would do better. Be better. That he would ensure she would never be left alone again.
But all that came out on the back of his sigh was the name that wasn't even really hers.
She stood and his hand went cold as she lifted hers away.
"Stay awake," Falchion ordered, jostling his shoulder just enough to disturb the sleepiness that had been creeping stealthily into his consciousness. "It will do none of us any good if you fall asleep."
He tried again. "Marth . . ."
"Ready?" Falchion asked Marth.
The girl nodded, and then glanced at him. She bit her bottom lip as Falchion summoned some kind of portal.
She bent toward him, squeezed his hand, and whispered in his ear, "Lucina. My name is Lucina."
Then they were gone, and Chrom was left to stare up at the clouds. Though his body felt heavy enough to be stone, his heart was strangely light.
Lucina was a good name, and one that fit her perfectly. They'd get to Marth eventually.
Before Chrom could fall too far into his daydream, the world darkened for a moment. When he could finally see again, it wasn't fluffy clouds in an Ylissean sky that he saw, but a dreamscape of worlds tied together by thousands of sparkling strings.
His mind swam as it tried to make sense of the beautiful, impossible scene before him. But even as his mind quailed beneath the enormity of it all, his attention narrowed to a series of golden threads that led to something tucked in between the folds of two worlds.
Robin was there, of that he was certain.
Now it was time to bring her home.
A/N: Whoosh. The question of who the Chrom-that-wasn't-Chrom asked Robin to protect will soon be forthcoming. Even as a Risen, he's still Chrom deep at heart. There are some things that even death cannot change.
I hadn't expected Lucina to meet Chrom like this quite so soon, but it was time. I also hadn't expected him-once he got over the shock of it-to become so fascinated with the idea of having half a bajillion kids, but I guess as long as they have some of Robin within them, he's good. And I could totally see him trying to convince Robin that at least one of them should be named Marth. :p
Thanks again to all you wonderful readers for reading, commenting, sharing, and for stopping by to share in the story. You guys are awesome, and I truly appreciate the time you've put into the story up to this point. Thank you!
Have a great week! :D
MargaritaDaemonelix: Haha! At the behest of another reader, there will definitely be a chart. I've got it all mapped out, I just have to carve out some time to put it together. I'll share the link once it's ready. :D
Thank you so much! And yes! That build up of things eventually coming together is what I've been aiming for. It'll happen shortly after Gangrel is deposed, and when it hits, I'm aiming for it to hit like the combined weight of a castle and one demon pegasus. :p It's going to hit Robin at least that hard. :D
Ahh, that's a beautiful image-all those butterflies and the tapestry of fate. You're exactly right-both about Robin's butterflies and why we should all be at least a little nervous at how all those Robins (and Chroms) are going to be affecting things. Neither of them are really known for having a light touch. :p
Thank you so very much! I hope your Christmas and New Year was excellent, and that this year will be even better! Have a great week. :D