Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem. Fire Emblem belongs to Intelligent Systems and Nintendo.
"Psst! Hey, Robin!"
A voice buzzed like an annoying bug in her ear.
"I told you she would be here," the voice went on, then giggled. "That's two gold you owe me!"
"Some things truly have to be seen to be believed."
A second voice.
Starched.
Prim.
Disapproving.
Robin waved a hand in an attempt to swat them away before she buried her face into her arms.
Away from the light.
And most definitely away from the noise.
"What do we do now?" A new voice—slightly muffled, but it was softer than the first two.
Robin frowned at the edge of her dream. Why had her quiet alcove been invaded?
"This is hardly the first time you've had to wake her up. You must have your methods."
"Well, yeah. But today's kinda special, so I left the frogs in the pond."
The prissy voice pursed its lips. "Really, Lissa dear, one would hardly believe you were a princess of the Halidom when you speak so casually of things like frogs."
Frogs.
Robin's brow furrowed as her dreams took on a distinctly brownish green hue.
Lumpy.
Moist.
Horrifying.
"Actually, there's lots of frogs in princess stories."
"Ha!"
"Real life is hardly the same thing as a fairy tale."
"I dunno, Maribelle. Robin and Chrom are pretty much—"
"The exception that proves the rule. Now, if you would be so kind as to wake the bride, we have a great deal to do and precious little time in which to do it!"
"Robin?" A voice like strawberry pie invaded Robin's dreams. "It's time to get ready."
Robin's frown deepened as the pies that had suddenly shown up in time to clobber the frogs tugged at her consciousness.
"Robin." Something jabbed her sharply in the side. "You. Up. Now!"
Robin opened her eyes long enough to blearily confirm that someone had lit up her alcove like a festival tree.
She made a dismissive gesture before burrowing back into the sweet smell of dust, parchment, and ink.
"Robin!"
Thoroughly annoyed, Robin peered hazily at the three shapes that appeared to be intent on disturbing her sleep. She had only just closed her eyes a moment ago, and her whole body felt as though she was wearing lead weights.
Reality and dream converged upon one another until they were both a blurry mess.
The words she'd read shortly before closing her eyes slipped from her fingers, Death to the Pretender!
Her head fell back into the comfortable cushion of her arms as she plummeted head first back into her dreams.
"Did she really just call for the head of your great-great-great-great grandfather?"
A peal of unrepentant laughter chased what shadows the candles had left behind out of the space. "Haha! Yep!"
"Lissa, this isn't a laughing matter! Imagine if one of the houses heard her say such a thing. If word spread through the court—"
"You do know that at least half the houses were against my great-triple great-grandfather, right?"
"That—that isn't the point. The point is—"
Something sweet and earthy invaded Robin's dreams. Her dream froze as she leaned toward whatever that enchanting aroma was.
"Miriel said you really like her hot chocolate," a soft voice wove through the scent.
Robin slowly peeled her eyelids open as the steam from the hot chocolate invigorated every single one of her senses. She blinked as she reached toward the mug, already feeling more awake and like herself than she had in a long while.
"Careful, it's hot." Sumia didn't let go of the mug until she was certain Robin had a firm hold of it. "She said she put some kind of energy boosting bean in it."
Robin nodded as she took a careful sip. Now that the war was over, Miriel had more time to pursue her more esoteric research topics. The strange energy bean was one of those things. Judging by the way a bolt of energy zapped through her as she took another cautious sip, Miriel's experiments had been a success.
She hoped.
It was a bit like being smashed in the face with a Thoron without all the pain and damage one would normally incur.
The hot chocolate seeped through her veins, warming her and washing away her fatigue. Before long, Robin drank the very last drop.
She looked up at Sumia hopefully. Miriel didn't happen to give you a pot of hot chocolate, did she?
Sumia shook her head. "She said something about the upper limits of a safe amount and something about exploding lizards. To be honest, she lost me somewhere after she greeted me and gave me the hot chocolate."
Robin sighed with regret as she licked the mug clean. Some things were unavoidable. She set the mug down, and startled when she realized Lissa and Maribelle were sitting across the table from her. They stared at her as though she was one of Miriel's lab experiments and they were waiting to see if she was one of the aforementioned exploding lizards.
"Heh. No more black circles."
"And the sallowness in her complexion has decreased substantially. Miriel truly can work miracles!"
Can I help you with something? Robin frowned. They'd never invaded her alcove like this before, so something must have—Is Chrom all right?
Lissa giggled while Maribelle pursed her lips until she looked as though she was sucking on a lemon.
"Chrom's fine." Lissa waved her hand. "Well, he's probably a nervous wreck right about now, or he will be soon. But other than that, he's good."
Oh.
That was good.
Lucina, then?
"Also fine."
Robin's frown deepened. Was she imagining it, or had she heard Lissa say something about frogs earlier?
"You really don't remember, do you?" Maribelle gave her a look that told her quite clearly that Robin lived up to her expectations.
Which was not a good and prim and proper thing to do.
Remember what? As Robin stretched, her gaze fell upon the historical tome she'd been studying. It had been written before the wall separating Ylisse from Regna Ferox had been built, and was one of the more colorful histories she'd come across so far.
She glanced out the window. It was still dark out, although the sky was turning a hazy gray. Now that she was awake, she might be able to finish a few more chapters before she had to meet with the court to—
"Does your wedding ring a bell?" Lissa asked, somehow managing to smirk while looking angelically innocent.
The wedding? Robin shook her head. That's not for a few more weeks.
"Today," Maribelle deadpanned. "Your wedding is today. This morning. A few hours from hence."
No, Robin signed, wondering if Maribelle had swallowed a thesaurus, and if so, why, I remember quite clearly. The wedding is taking place on the first day of autumn. That isn't for a few more weeks. Yet, even as she signed the words, something in her gut curled uneasily.
She couldn't have lost track of that much time, could she?
Lissa laughed and shook her head.
"This is what comes of burying yourself in books rather than attending morning brunch or anything else that could be classified as a social activity." The polite disapproval Maribelle was exuding did little to hide the fact that she could not bear to be silent on this topic any longer.
"Which is why we're here this morning," Sumia broke in before Maribelle could get properly warmed up. "To help you get ready."
Robin cast a dubious look at the window. While there was a faint glimmer of gray bleeding into the horizon, the moon was still out, and it was a bit of a stretch to call whatever hour this was morning.
Unless you happened to be Frederick.
Which they were not.
"Normally, the women in the bride's family kidnap the bride to help her get ready." Despite her serious tone, Lissa couldn't stop grinning.
Maribelle whacked her lightly with her fan. "A true lady would never indulge in something so vulgar as a kidnapping."
Lissa's grin widened, and she nodded. "We're hoping that you'll allow us to stand in for your family today."
Robin's confusion and the energy zinging through her veins melted away into something soft and warm and pink. Although she hadn't been in Ylisse for very long, even so, she had managed to forget that she had no family that she could remember.
Probably because the Shepherds had never really given her time to seriously consider her loss. Rather, they'd opened their arms and become her family instead.
She nodded as she choked on the words she would never be able to express to her satisfaction.
"Haha! I was hoping you'd say that," Lissa laughed as she jumped to her feet.
Sumia beamed as she tucked a small blue flower behind Robin's ear. "We're happy to be here."
Maribelle let out a polite and controlled hmph as the corners of her mouth twitched toward a smile.
Robin's heart contracted. If there was one thing she'd learned, it was to never trust, or take lightly, a healer's smile. That was when they brought out the fragrant bog water they called medicine. Or snapped a dislocated joint back into place.
Whatever the occasion, a smile was the healer's warpaint.
And here, she had two and three quarters of them grinning from ear to ear.
"Very well." Maribelle tapped the business end of her parasol against the ground. "Then let us begin."
Beginning, it turned out, meant being forcibly submerged in water so cold that it had no business being liquid.
"To bring out the roses in your cheeks," Lissa informed her cheerfully.
And then scrubbed within an inch of her life with soap smelled of—well, Robin wasn't sure what it smelled of. She was shivering too hard to form words.
Rain water?
Mist shrouded mountains?
With a hint of autumn?
Moonlight?
Moonlight . . .
Silk slipped across Robin's shoulders as Sumia began the Herculean task of detangling Robin's hair.
But everything faded away into two pools of the purest blue and a smile that had become her forever.
The fingers on her right hand twitched as the faintest wisp of a long ago nightmare drifted across her mind's eye and tried to settle upon the surface of her daydream.
Clenching her hand into a fist, Robin pressed her lips together as she forced the image away.
She would not harm Chrom.
She would never harm Chrom, no matter what.
The war and its aftermath had distracted her enough that she had almost forgotten the markings on the back of her hand.
And the name that had etched itself into the darkest corners of her mind.
"You okay, Robin?" Lissa asked. "Not getting cold feet, are you?"
After the wedding.
She'd talk to Miriel after the wedding.
See if there was a way to remove the marks.
Preferably without removing her hand in the process.
Still, if that's what it took—
"Robin?"
Robin blinked as she forced herself out of her head and into the present. Despite the warmth burning in her chest, a trickle of ice shivered through her veins.
I've got cold everything, thanks to you.
Lissa snorted. "There are health benefits to soaking in cold water, you know."
Unmoved, Robin crossed her arms and attempted a glower that was overshadowed by the chattering of her teeth.
"What would you prefer to adorn your hair? Some darling bows? A few jeweled ribbons, perhaps?"
Robin fervently hoped that her shivers disguised the shudder that ran through her as Maribelle held them up to her hair.
She raised her fingers a few times, fumbling over discretion, diplomacy, and her own honest opinions.
Maribelle could have pulled off the bows and ribbons.
Likely, she was the only one.
But how to say that in Court-speak? Without actually saying it . . .
"About that . . ." Sumia finished detangling Robin's hair. "How do you feel about flowers?"
In my hair? Robin asked, narrowing her eyes. Not only was Sumia avoiding eye contact, but her cheeks had a healthy glow in them.
A glow that had been achieved without risking pneumonia, she might add.
"Hmm." Sumia nodded.
While Robin could tell that Sumia was being less than forthcoming, she still lacked Frederick's unique ability to read minds when mischief was afoot.
Would that be okay? She glanced at the ribbons and ruffled bows that Maribelle was clutching like a frilly little human-shaped dragon who'd just brought out the treasures from her hoard.
I mean, Robin faltered a little under their gazes, is it allowed?
She'd truly meant to study up on Ylissean marriage traditions and fashions, but the call of battles and wars waged in the past had proven a little more enticing than she'd expected.
That, and she had been so certain that she'd have enough time to read up on everything she needed to know.
"Allowed?" Maribelle's voice went soft and low, and Robin had a distinct impression of smoke drifting out of her nostrils and flames leaking out the corners of her mouth.
"Well, they are something blue," Lissa said, holding one up and sniffing it.
"It would seem that my tutelage has been wasted if you haven't yet grasped the very first rule of all." Maribelle set the bows down one at a time.
Robin wanted to apologize.
Truly, she did.
It was just that, for some reason, she found herself frozen in place.
No magic necessary . . .
Maribelle drew in a deep breath as though preparing to battle an especially ornery patient bent on escaping her loving care.
"If you are to get on with the court and to rule by Chrom's side, rather than just serving as a useless, pretty decoration, you have to understand your value." She paused, but Robin kept still.
While she wasn't entirely sure what Maribelle was getting at, she was certain that assuring the healer of her qualifications to successfully deal with bandits, brigands, and every other threat to Ylisse would only serve to irritate her further.
"Your true value," Maribelle said as she neatly placed the jeweled ribbons next to the bows. "As is reflected in our good prince's eyes. Believe in yourself and believe in him. Everything else will fall into place, and they won't dare to find trouble with you."
Robin nodded as the warm feeling enveloped her a little more. Despite Maribelle's tendency to puff out like a hedgehog on occasion, she really did have a good heart.
"So what do you want to wear?"
Robin glanced at the bouquet of—were those . . . blue . . . roses? She picked one up and raised a brow at Sumia as she brought the blossom to her face. For some reason, she expected it to smell faintly of sunshine and clover, and was a little disappointed that it smelled of spun sugar and apples instead.
Sumia's blush deepened. "You don't have to wear them. I brought them for just in case."
Robin raised her other brow.
Where did you get them from? They're very beautiful. She looked down at the rose. The edge of each petal was the dark blue of midnight, while the center was the pale blue of the Plegian sky. But everything in between was his blue.
The blue of his eyes.
Of his hair.
"Oh, that?" Sumia fidgeted with a strand of Robin's hair. "Me-my friend and I—I mean—Cordelia and I cultivated them a few years ago as an experiment."
Ah. Then it wasn't an accident, nor was it a coincidence.
Flowers, Robin answered decisively. She stroked the velvety petals of her new favorite flower. What are they called?
Sumia startled, dropping the lock of hair she had been weaving around a flower. "Er, that is . . ." She took a deep breath, her voice barely above a whisper. "Heaven's Gaze. T-that's, uh, what we called it. Back then. When we were younger. A long time ago."
"Huh." Lissa stared at the flower in her hand. "It does look a lot like the sky. How'd you do it?"
The silence that followed was . . . interesting, and Robin really wished she could turn around just to catch a glimpse of her friend's expression.
"We, uh . . ." Sumia cleared her throat. "That is, we took a lot of lessons from the royal gardener and Miriel helped out some."
"Horticulture is all well and good," Maribelle clapped her hands sharply, "but this is neither the time nor the space. Rather," she bared her teeth in a tight smile, "we ought to be focusing on the matter at hand—dressing the future consort of the Exalt."
"Right," Sumia breathed as she set about twisting and weaving the Heavens' Gaze through Robin's hair with renewed vigor.
Robin froze in place as her belly turned to ice.
Dressing.
Dress . . .
The dress!
. . .
"What's wrong, Robin?" Lissa asked, her eyes narrowed. "You look like you swallowed a frog or something."
The—the fittings. Robin put her face in her hands. There had to have been at least one, right? No, knowing how important this occasion was, the seamstresses likely would have done several fittings.
So why did she have no memory of them?
"If you're feeling unwell, I can send someone to fetch a tonic for you," Maribelle said with a sweetness that made Robin shudder.
No—I, no need. Robin twisted her fingers anxiously. Her first real job—to show up primped, perfumed, and pretty to what should be the most important day of her life—and she had a feeling that she'd already bungled it.
Spectacularly.
Weren't there tomes lining one wall of the royal archives detailing royal fashions for all the important ceremonies?
Not to mention the various lights at court repeatedly underscoring how important this occasion would be to both the morale and the future of the Halidom?
Hadn't she sworn that she would ensure that everything would go off perfectly, without a hitch?
And she had. She'd made lists. Delegated. Made more lists. Checked everything twice.
Except, apparently, anything that had anything directly to do with her.
A wail of horror swooped into her gut where it perched like a caged bird.
How could she have been so careless?
Chrom—
Would he . . . ?
. . .
He had never looked at her with disappointment in his eyes, and she wasn't certain she had the courage to face such an expression.
Not from him.
"You're not getting cold feet are you?" Lissa leaned forward as she peered into Robin's face. "Like, for real, cold feet?"
"Fear not, Lissa darling, we've developed a concoction for that as well," Maribelle sang with more than a little relish.
"It's normal to be nervous," Sumia murmured as she coiled and pinned a braid in place. "But remember, you're not going out to meet some stranger. It will be Chrom waiting to receive you once you enter the cathedral."
Chrom, Robin thought to herself as she tried to breathe deeply. It was Chrom who would be waiting for her.
Some of the ice in her gut receded. While the court may be disappointed with her, she doubted Chrom would be paying much attention to what she wore. It would be enough just to stand there, the two of them.
Together.
Before all of Ylisse.
Vowing to continue to do what they were already doing.
Only for keeps, this time.
Now and forever.
It was all right.
It would be all right.
Even so, a shred of regret lodged itself in her heart. She knew it was silly, but Robin had been looking forward to her wedding dress. Not the heavy, cumbersome contraptions that much of Ylissean royalty seemed to favor. Bows and ruffles and intricate beadwork. Trains that stretched on for miles. Cages to keep the skirts poofy and full.
No, she wanted something light and airy and delicate. Something that made her feel beautiful no matter what others may think.
Something that would make his eyes go wide with wonder.
Except . . .
The ice that had stealthily been creeping up her spine turned warm. The expression she wanted most to see on Chrom's face was already one he gave her everyday.
It was in the way light shadows appeared at the corner of his lips. How his gaze softened as though he would never look away again.
The promise in his eyes . . .
"Hello! Hey there! You in there, Robin?" Lissa waved her hand in front of Robin's face.
Robin came back to herself with a start. She nodded and her fingers twitched as she tried to find the words she didn't quite dare to utter while Maribelle was standing so close.
Maribelle had always been ridiculously accurate when it came to prodding things with the pointy end of her parasol.
"Ready to get dressed?" Sumia asked as she wove the last flower into place.
Robin gave her a weak smile as each and every one of her insecurities marched through her mind's eye. Waved at her. Gazed at her meaningfully.
No. She shook her head. She couldn't worry about that right now.
Chrom.
He was what mattered here.
It would be all ri—
Robin stifled a gasp as Lissa and Maribelle swept something white and frothy out of an armoire. Her hand shook a little as she reached out to brush her fingers against the silk-soft skirt.
This—
This was—?
It?
"Why do you look as though you've swallowed a ghost?" Maribelle pinned her in place with a look. "This was made exactly to your specifications. 'Soft and—" she wrinkled her nose "—fluffy' were your exact words, I believe."
Robin's heart pounded a little harder as one problem was resolved only for her to find another, thornier problem in its place.
I—I don't remember— Her fingers drifted away weakly from an answer she was quite certain she would never be able to face.
"I was there." Lissa smirked at her. "You did say fluffy. And something about jellyfish. None of us knew what you were talking about, but the seamstresses gave it their best."
Jellyfish? Robin frowned before remembering that she'd been reading something about an old practice of extracting mucus from the jellyfish to use in cosmetics.
"Mucus is hardly a topic to be discussed so publicly," Maribelle scoffed while Lissa giggled.
It was only then that Robin realized she'd "spoken" her thoughts out loud. Cheeks burning, she hid her hands behind her back. She could well imagine the looks 'jellyfish' must have engendered that day.
"Don't worry," Sumia murmured. "They all knew you'd been working harder than anyone else to get the relief and reconstruction efforts underway."
Maribelle harrumphed her approval.
She helped Robin slip out of her robe and into her first set of petticoats. There was—to Robin's relief—no sign of any cages or any other sort of contraption she would have to consign herself to wear.
Just layer upon layer of impossible softness that fluttered as it moved as if it had a soul of its own.
Jellyfish.
And yet . . .
Somehow it was perfect.
Sumia quickly laced up the bodice, tying it tight enough that Robin's posture would remain impeccable—whether she wanted to or not—while still allowing her to breathe unencumbered.
For the most part.
Slouch or breathe.
She could only choose one.
"Now for the sleeves and the sash."
Maribelle held out something that looked like it might have been a large bird at some point, while Lissa examined the milky white sleeves that emitted a faint blueish glow that perfectly matched the skirts.
Robin wrinkled her nose, trying to make sense of the feathery mass in Maribelle's arms.
"Every bride who is of—or marries into—the noble or royal bloodline dons a pair of Naga's wings as a witness to the oaths she will undertake and the duties she will uphold," Sumia murmured as though she were reciting something she'd learned long ago.
But isn't Naga a dragon? Robin frowned. Dragons have scales, not feathers.
"Yeah, but can you imagine what it'd look like if all the pretty brides were wearing scales?" Lissa giggled.
"It would be . . . different," Sumia agreed.
"It's the symbol that matters," Maribelle said as she fitted the 'wings' around Robin's waist from behind. "Now hold still."
Not daring to try Maribelle's patience any further, Robin did as she was told.
Sumia helped hold the 'wings' up while Maribelle affixed them to the gown with a sash that was a few shades lighter than Chrom's eyes.
After a number of complicated twists, Maribelle tied off the ends and stepped back to survey her work.
"It's been awhile, but I do believe that will hold."
"My turn!" Lissa pounced over and slipped a sleeve up Robin's arm, securing it in place with blue ribbons that matched the sash.
No frogs? Robin asked to reassure herself that all of this was real. That it was happening. Her fairy tale ending was on the horizon, and in a few short hours, she and Chrom would be man and wife.
Married.
To each other.
For always.
"Ha!" Lissa tied off the ribbon on the second sleeve. "Chrom already promised divine retribution if he sees even so much as a webbed flipper."
Dracoflies filled Robin's stomach as warmth filled her heart.
Was it possible for things to be this perfect?
For him to be this perfect?
"Of course," Lissa continued with a smirk, "our agreement only holds for today. The future is wide open and beautiful!"
Indeed it was.
"Now for the bride-gift." Sumia pulled out a small wooden box that looked like it had shattered at some point, only to be patiently glued back together.
"Frederick has been teaching Chrom some woodworking skills," Sumia replied to Robin's raised brow.
A smile melted itself across Robin's face as she accepted the box. Yes, Chrom's craftsmanship was written all over this.
Her lips rounded in surprise as she opened the box and found a small glass pendant inside. Inside the pendant were a few small flowers with radiant blue petals and yellow stars at their center.
"Forget-me-nots," Lissa confirmed. She rocked back on her heels and smiled proudly. "The gardeners might never forgive us, but Chrom picked them personally for you."
"So that's what happened." Maribelle's glower resurfaced. "I thought the pegasi had been turned loose in the gardens!"
"I guess it's a good thing I gathered the flowers early," Sumia laughed.
The world swam a little as Robin picked up the pendant. It dangled at the end of a delicate gold chain that perfectly matched the gold thread edging her bodice and the over skirt of her gown.
How had he managed to say so much with something so small and simple?
"You better believe it!"
"It can't be that bad, can it?" Sumia reached over and retied a ribbon that had come loose in Robin's hair.
"The royal gardens look like a battleground," Maribelle sniffed. "For the side that lost. It's a very good thing the wedding is taking place in the cathedral."
Robin sniffled a little and fought to blink back her tears.
He had had so very many things to do, and yet he still found time to do something so thoughtful.
By this time, her heart was nearly full to overflowing.
"Uh, Robin? Are you—er—"
"No crying!" Maribelle enunciated each syllable clearly. "Tears lead to swollen eyes. Swollen eyes lead toward general puffiness. And puffiness leads to a drowned and bedraggled state! Do you want to look like a drowning victim on this, your happiest day?!"
Robin only had time enough to shake her head before Maribelle thrusted a square of frilly pink fabric in her direction.
"Then dry your tears. This is your day to be beautiful and shine. So. Shine!"
Robin hiccuped as she swallowed her tears and blotted her eyes. She had completely wasted Maribelle's potential by relegating her to serve as a healer. Instead, she ought to have had her training to be a general.
Nobody would ever dare lose.
She nodded. Today, of all days, was not the day to cry.
To distract herself from how warm and mushy her heart had grown, Robin reached for her coat.
"Ah!" Maribelle knocked her hand away with a lacy pink fan she'd magicked up from who-knew-where. "Robin, so help me, you are going to look a proper bride if it kills us both! No coat!"
Robin shook out her stinging fingers before giving Maribelle a look of her own.
It is customary for the bride to have readied a gift for the groom, isn't it?
She paused long enough to be sure that Maribelle would hold her fire for the time being before she slipped her hand into the innermost pocket of her coat.
The smooth wood of the ring she had painstakingly carved every night before she went to sleep brushed against her fingers. Robin drew in a deep breath and pulled it out. She hadn't thought to wrap it up. At the time, she had just been satisfied that she very well *might* finish it in time. That little block of wood had been the most stubborn she'd ever come across. It had taken ages before she'd figured out its shape, and even longer for her to come up with the appropriate design.
There had been many nights where she'd considered just feeding it to Falchion and figuring something else out. But there was something about the ring-that-was-to-be that had hooked itself into her soul so well that she couldn't bear to set it aside.
"What is it?" Lissa asked. She leaned forward to get a better look, but Robin slipped the ring onto her thumb and shook her wrist so her cuff hid it completely.
A surprise.
Lissa puffed her cheeks up indignantly. "No way! I'm your sister!"
A polite cough and clearing-of-the-throat sounded behind them, stirring all the dracoflies nesting in Robin's gut into a frenzy.
It was time.
Robin's eyes widened as Frederick crooked his arm out to her. She'd absorbed enough of Ylissean culture to know that traditionally the father, or another close family member, was the one tasked with escorting the bride to the groom.
Considering her lot, she'd made peace with the fact long ago that her journey to Chrom's side would be a solitary one.
When she didn't move, Frederick raised a brow. "You've never shied way from the battlefield before."
You—you're—
He nodded as though it had always been a foregone conclusion.
"No tears!" Maribelle managed to get in a few whacks with her fan before Robin hooked her arm through Frederick's.
Robin dutifully swallowed her tears while Lissa tossed a gauzy veil over her head and Sumia pinned it in place.
It was time.
And, finally, she was ready.
A/N: Heya! Long time no see . . . Sorry about that. . Had some unexpected health complications, but I'm happy to be back and to dive heartfirst back into Fractured!
When the chapter first showed up—one dark night filled with procrastination and a healthy disrespect for the morning—I scoffed a little. No way would Robin forget her wedding dress. I mean, if she had her way, she'd be wearing princess dresses all over the place. Running down stairs just to feel the satisfaction of her skirts gliding along the air.
A wedding dress is one millionty times more important than regular princess dresses, so yeah, no way.
Then the story kindly reminded me—spectacles at the end of its nose and pinky out—to consider how Robin deals with stressful situations that don't call for plotting the demise of her enemies.
She has a tendency to ostrich a bit, does she not?
Well, sure, but—
She didn't really need to read an entire section of the library—while juggling her duties, the court, training, planning for reconstruction, and time with Chrom—did she?
No, but—
*pointed look*
Fine. Fine. Fine. You know what you're doing, Story. I'll just be right here. Dutifully writing things down. Like I'm supposed to. -_-
So, yes. Robin has been very stressed and has been dealing with it in her own way. (Hint: Miriel's energy bean research happened for Robin's benefit, rather than something Miriel was ardently wondering about. The doppelgänger trials were, dare I say, unsuccessful—given the value of success meaning fully functioning doppelgängers that allow one to truly multitask vs explosions. So, so very many explosions.)
Moving on. Haha! I had so much secondhand embarrassment from Sumia over those flowers. Although I'm pretty sure she and Cordelia enjoyed the research that went into creating them. Originally, I wasn't going to cap Heaven's Gaze, but Sumia and Cordelia would have most definitely capped them. So I followed their lead. :p
As for the wedding dress . . . Well, apparently jellyfish mucus used in cosmetics (is actually a thing) was what my brain came up with to explain the design. Now, to explain the archery equipment that comes with it . . . .
I had hoped to get through the wedding this chapter, but yeah. Best laid plans will make their appearance in the next chapter. Which, I hope, will be posted in two weeks. I haven't recovered sufficiently to feel confident that it will be ready to go according to my update schedule, but it hopefully won't take four and a half months to materialize. But, Eeee! The wedding!
As always, thank you for stopping by and for your continued support—especially over the unplanned hiatus! You guys are awesome, and I hope you have a great week!
MalsSerenity: It's coming. :) The Robin Arc, which is almost here, will be a time when the binds—especially familial binds—will be strengthened enough that even Grima won't be able to touch them.
Insaneauthor050701: The problem is that Robin's issue isn't an Ylissean-Plegian problem. Robin's magic doesn't work well here because [redacted for spoilers]. ;-)
Re: magic system: That is the beauty of fanfiction. The possibilities are infinite. And while nothing will appeal to everyone, there is usually something for everyone. :D
God: Aww, thank you! Your wish is my command. ;p