I have a thing for characters who are/used to be/are related to ancient evil dragons, so *mario voice* here we gooo

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Chrom watches over Robin day and night. He knows he's not dead. He prays too, though, like all others, he receives no answer.

But he believes in Robin, in his promise to break free of fate and not let Grima take him. The heartbeat Chrom feels as he holds his hand is proof enough of that determination, so he stays by his side, even when it weakens, even when it falters.

Lisa, Maribelle, Libra, all the Shepherds' healers are not sure what happened to Robin — and how could they? Ancient evil draconic possession isn't in the textbooks, nor is it a reoccurring combat injury — but agree that it is best is to let him rest.

… Except they have let Robin rest, but he shows no signs of waking up free from Grima's influence. He hasn't moved, but a few hours after Grima's defeat, strange red lines appeared on his face, coalescing into a shape that encircled his eyes travelled the middle and down to the edges of his lips, interrupted by two rows of eye-like shapes like the ones around his actual ones… If anything, the new red eye-like marking, the still-present brand of the defile on his hand and the odd nubs growing at his back like malignant tumours indicate the exact opposite. Chrom can only hope that they're a mere backlash of the ritual and not a sign of their ultimate failure…

Naga said Robin could live through this, but that the chances would be slim. Indeed, Robin made it out still breathing, but who was to say he would wake up? Who was to say he wouldn't be permanently comatose, growing weaker by the day until fading away?

An eyelid twitch from Robin breaks Chrom's train of thought as he leans in close with hope. "Robin?"

It must be a miracle, as Robin grows more and more awake. He forcefully exhales and scrunches his face, his eyes moving under his eyelids — and something similar happens to the eye-like markings beneath them, but Chrom is too elated to let that dampen his mood.

Robin lets out a soft groan and his hand twitches in Chrom's embrace.

"Robin?"

The man in question grimaces and tries to pull his hand away, but Chrom's grip is firm and only grows tighter with worry.

Robin tries to withdraw his hand again with more urgency, but as soon as his grimace shifts to worry, his entire frame relaxes and his face slackens.

"… Chrom?" Robin's voice is hoarse and quiet, but it's the most wonderful thing Chrom has heard all week.

"Yes, it's me!" Chrom enthusiastically says, and the sheer volume of his voice has Robin squirm. "Ah sorry," he says as he drops to a whisper. "It's been a couple days since you collapsed at the Dragon's Table," he starts, knowing Robin's first priority when in an unfamiliar environment is getting the hang of his surroundings. "We didn't want to risk moving you so we're still in Plegia."

Robin nods to show he's listening but doesn't open his eyes.

Chrom feels a lump form in his throat but swallows it down. "How do you feel? Are you hurting anywhere? If you're hungry, I can go grab something—"

"Wait," Robin tightens his hold on Chrom's arm as he's about to get up and ask Frederick for some leftovers. "Just… give me a moment."

"Of course," Chrom says as he sits back down and rubs circles on Robin's palm, full of nervous energy.

Robin gives him a faint smile, then frowns as his free hand travels up his face, touching the strange eye-like red marks under his eyes. "I take it I've… changed?"

Chrom frowns. How can he tell from touch alone? Can he feel the ink or… whatever it was that coloured his skin? Is it hurting?

"It's just a… scar or something like that, isn't it? Like your brand."

Robin pauses, then laughs, caught between amusement and bitterness.

Chrom doesn't like his friend's expression one bit. "What's wrong?"

"Promise you won't stab me with Falchion?"

"Robin!" Chrom yells again, but this time he feels slightly less guilty at the other's flinch. "I'd never — why would you think I'd stab you?! We beat Grima, didn't we?"

Robin laughs again with that same bitter smile and something ugly coils around Chrom's heart.

"We did, didn't we?" he asks again, more forcefully. They must have, Chrom watched that ghastly illusion fade with a furious cry, he caught Robin as he collapsed, fearing for the worst. If they failed, if Grima is still in there, if Robin… Chrom doesn't know what to do—

"Ah no, I'm fine, I didn't mean to worry you like that," Robin says at Chrom's silence, and his apologetic tone is familiar enough that he relaxes. Somewhat. "It's just that the situation wasn't what we thought it was."

Chrom frowns. "But Naga said—"

"Naga peddles in half truths as always," Robin mutters with uncharacteristic bitterness before he smooths his expression and tone back to neutrality. "Sorry again. I didn't mean to sound so… hostile."

Chrom is very confused, and all he can do is lean closer and grab Robin's other hand in reassurance. "Tell me what's wrong."

Robin makes several false starts, his expression shifting from amused to hesitant to crestfallen. Finally, he takes a deep breath and opens his eyes.

All six of them.

Chrom stares at the six blood-red eyes staring back at him. The first row was where Robin's single pair of eyes should be, but apparently more have grown in the eye-shaped gaps of the tattoo-like marks under them.

And they're all red. Robin's eyes are supposed to be a soft brown.

"You promised not to stab me with Falchion. I'll be very disappointed if you break that promise," Robin evenly says. His eyes, again all six of them, narrow in discomfort before he flinches and closes them. "Oh, this is going to be a pain to get used to again."

Once again, Robin's words are clearly his, but there is an underlying tone of wrongness under it.

"… Is that just a side effect from the ritual?" Chrom asks, hopeful. It makes sense that someone wouldn't escape possession by an ancient evil dragon completely unscathed.

"Yes… and not exactly."

Chrom is trying to be supportive here, but he's quickly approaching the end of his rope. "You're not filling me with confidence."

"What do you think makes us who we are?" Robin opens his eyes half-way but looks away. "Are we solely shaped by our memories? By the traits we inherit from our parents? By something innate in our souls?"

"What brought that on…?" Chrom trails off when Robin doesn't respond. "I don't know. It could be any three, could be all at the same time."

Robin smiles, still looking away. "Then, if you lost all your memories, do you think you'd act the same? That you'd become the same person you are now?"

Chrom doesn't have an answer. "Where are you going with this?"

Robin's smile falls, and he frowns in thought, taking on the same expression whenever he was working on the next battle's strategy.

"I… don't have any other way to phrase this, so before I do, please renew your promise that you won't run me through with Falchion."

"What is it with you — Robin, I promise. No matter what's going on, you're my friend and I would never hurt you."

"Even if I told you I am Grima?"

Chrom sighs. "If this is about you being the so-called Heart of Grima again, then you know I—Wait." His eyes widen in realisation as he fully processes Robin's words and thinks he may have meant what he just said in a more literal way.

Chrom's mouth opens, but no words come out.

"I can explain," Robin quickly says.

"Please do," Chrom mutters, because he's about to faint. He must have misheard or misunderstood. The man before him is Robin, not Grima, evidenced by him not screaming about setting everything on fire and destroying the world.

"Well, imagine you're stuck somewhere…" Robin frowns and pauses. "Actually, don't, but say you've taken a midday nap and have a very intense dream—no, that's not quite right either…"

"Robin," Chrom pleads. At least he still responds to his name, so the worst has not come to pass… right?

Robin grimaces in annoyance. "Ugh, give me a moment to gather my thoughts."

Unable to do anything else and feeling like the ground is about to open up and swallow him whole, Chrom waits.

"… On second thought," Robin mutters, "I may not be sure what happened either." He lets out a loud exhale as he opens and closes his eyes, the two lower rows half-lidded but never fully closing.

With a huff, Robin places his hands over the bottom two rows and when he retracts them, they're closed while the topmost is open. Which is a strange gesture, but also Robin with only two eyes open is what Chrom expected to see when he woke up…

"Does something like split personality via amnesia make much sense to you?" Robin eventually asks.

No, it does not. "Our plan was to kill Grima."

Robin hums in thought. "True, but it turns out this is less of a case of 'ancient evil dragon wants to possess my body', but more 'ancient evil dragon ends up in the middle of a field with amnesia while his unpleasant memories festered and are given form by his sealed magic, and getting either of them back would likely overwhelm his psyche and lead to him becoming even more evil'," he says in one breath.

All Chrom can do is stare, and Robin gives him an uneasy smile. "Basically, I got my memories back. All of them."

\*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*/

"Robin!" Lissa tackles him and forces a laugh out of him. "You're finally up! Oh, we were so worried, Chrom here never left your side—!"

"It's good to see you again too," Robin chokes out. "I see you've kept up your strength training…"

"Oh yes, there's not much else to do here and I've been thinking of joining an axe throwing competition back home, so I've been practicing—" Lissa cuts herself off, "But enough about me, how are you feeling? Up and at 'em?" And though her smile is as cheerful as always, Chrom sees her stealing glances at the marks beneath Robin's eyes. And if Chrom has noticed that, then Robin too…

"Ah," Robin brings his hand up to his eyes with a sigh. "Probably a lingering side effect of the ritual. I'm not sure if it will go away, unfortunately."

"Oh, yes, I was thinking the same thing too." Her smile briefly falters, but moments later it's back and as bright as ever. "And hey, a cool eye tattoo isn't the worst thing you can get from surviving a weird evil dragon revival ritual!"

Robin casually laughs at her attempt at a joke, and though Chrom joins in with a smile, he's not sure he can go through with this deception.

It's understandable that Robin wants to keep his identity as Grima a secret. Regardless of Chrom's thoughts on the matter, if word spreads that Robin is, in fact, Grima incarnate, many factions across Plegia and Ylisse will immediately lose their minds and plunge the whole continent into chaos. Chrom understands and sympathises with that, but he does not agree with Robin's decision to keep this so tight a secret that even the Shepherds don't know.

But it's not Chrom's secret and therefore not his decision to make. Especially since he still doesn't fully understand what's going on. He understands, on an intellectual level, when Robin told him he is technically Grima but had forgotten all about it, but cannot reconcile those two very different people being the same. Especially when Robin is here with him, acting like his usual self.

"I've also brought you some food — You too Chrom!" She adds with a playful punch that makes his arm sore. "You've barely been eating!"

Robin sends Chrom a disappointed look before he tries to get up and flinches, nearly doubling over.

Lissa and Chrom are immediately by his side. Chrom reaches out to his back to support him. He expects to maybe feel those strange nubs that have been growing on his back, which were an accidental discovery from when Lissa tried to give him a bath, but something they chalked up to a very persistent muscle cramp. However, the cloth on Robin's back shifts and sinks on something longer and… softer?

Robin's eyes widen and Chrom feels that strange softness shift.

"What's wrong?" Lissa asks. "I remember you had some weird growths on your back, I can have a look—"

"I'm fine, my back is just sore." Robin quickly says, backing away towards the wall and lowering Chrom's hand, "I just need to walk around a bit and I'll be right as rain."

"If you say so…" Lissa says with a worried pout. "Still, let's dig in!"

As Lisa scarfs down on her portion while Robin takes significantly more subdued bites out of his, Chrom's stomach rumbles and he munches on a sandwich too. He watches Lissa speak in between mouthfuls of food that has Robin huff in amusement and respond with a remark that has Lissa choking with laughter and realises how much he missed small moments like this.

\*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*/

"Wings," Chrom utters.

Robin hums as he twists his back to get a better look. There are six of them, just like his eyes, and growing in pairs of two down his back. The topmost pair is the longest, protruding right between his shoulder blades and its wingspan nearly reaching his elbows. The middle one is slightly shorter and stumpier, while the last pair comes out of his middle back and is a fluffy squashed mess of feathers.

"Like my old ones…" Robin mutters but Chrom, like many other things today, chooses not to dwell too much on that remark. He gives his wings an experimental twist and flinches. "Though they're still sore from growing while I was on my back…"

"First the eyes and now the wings," Chrom says to no one in particular.

Robin raises his eyebrows. "I suppose they are useful if I ever want to have an emergency exit from a battle. Assuming they grow to be flight-capable." He frowns. "Then again, I can't walk around with them. People will ask questions."

"Please tell me you won't start growing horns and a tail."

Robin pats his head and Chrom is prepared for the worst. "I don't think so, but I wouldn't be surprised at this point." He hums, then flinches as he tries to manoeuvre his wings flat against his back. "Give me a hand?"

"At what?"

"Hold them in place."

Chrom has no doubt which pair Robin is referring to. Though the upper two coil up like a bird's wings, the bottom pair sags unevenly in a mess of fluff. The more Chrom looks at them, the more they resemble the wings of a chick. Are they too weak?

Nevertheless, Chrom holds them squashed against Robin's back. The feathers are soft like silk and he resists the urge to pat them and the ones above them.

In the meantime, Robin has taken a sheet and with some manoeuvring, is wrapping it around his waist, much like an oversized bandage. Chrom helps him nestle the bottom pair against the cloth and steps back as Robin finishes up.

"That should do for now," he says as he stretches his back. Chrom sees the upper pair shift under the looser fabric, while the bottom one has been tightly wrapped. "I hope they don't stick out much. Don't want to start rumours that I'm developing a hunched back."

"You'll be fine. It's fortunate that you have a thing for long heavy robes."

Robin gives Chrom an expression of mock offence. "I don't see what's wrong with that. They're warm and comfy."

"Can't argue with that. I'm surprised you don't get heatstroke from wearing them all day."

"Ylisse is chilly."

"No it is not. Plegia is much warmer and you still wear them."

Robin has the face of a man who has run out of arguments. "As any self-respecting tactician, I have an image to maintain."

And Chrom laughs, a sudden barked sound he hasn't made in a long time. Robin joins him with a small laugh and a muttered wry remark, and Chrom realises his last shreds of dread from when his friend woke up are gone.

He's still with them. Still the same old Robin.

Just with a few extra bits, he adds as Robin struggles to undo the sheet and grumbles about logistics.

\*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*/

Chrom hears Morgan yelp and barges into Robin's tent, Falchion ready. Their stay at Plegia has been quiet so far, the locals accepting their coin in exchange for leaving them alone, but bandits are an ever-present threat and if one of them made it to the tents under the dead of night—

But what Chrom sees is not some half-crazed bandit with their axe against one of the Morgan's throats. Instead, the twins have cornered Robin whose eyes, all six of them, have gone wide while his wings are loose and assaulted by the little devils.

"That's so cool—!"

"Does that mean we're half dragons—?!

"Can we use dragon stones?! I've never tried, but maybe if we focus—!"

"Will we get more eyes and wings when we grow up too?!"

"We could read three books at the same time—!"

"And reach the top shelves without lumbering around that staircase—!"

"While in dragon form—!"

"Yeah—!"

The twins high-five as Robin catches Chrom's eye.

'Help me', the Fell Dragon desperately mouths.

Chrom relaxes, winks and bites back a laugh at the look of absolute betrayal Robin gives him as the twins now start hopping around him with a new ceaseless barrage of questions.

\*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*/

Robin wakes up from his dream with tears in his eyes and an aborted sob.

He shifts to his side and digs his fingers into the mattress, ignoring the urge to unfurl his wings and burn down their camp. But the more he tries to push away memories of burning fields and clashing armies, the more his mind protests and sinks into those long-buried memories.

Robin swallows and curls further in himself at the memory of plunging on a battalion of archers and eating half of them in one fell swoop, tasting iron and meat.

Things are not like that anymore. He's not like that anymore, he doesn't want to be like that anymore. That old world doesn't exist anymore. Humans aren't little dots on the landscape wielding the occasional dragon tooth sword. They're people, fully realised beings (who still wield the occasional dragon tooth sword). They're people like Chrom, Lissa, Lucina, the Morgans… They're people like the Shepherds, like Frederick, Libra, Tharja, Henry, Sully, Sumia, Virion, Stahl, Vaike, Miriel, Ricken, Flavia, Basilio, Kellam, Donnel, Olivia, Lon'qu, Gaius, Cordelia, Gregor, Anna, Cherche, Say'ri… Non-humans too, like Nowi, Panne…

Robin mutters through the names of his companions like a prayer. His homicidal urge subsides, but it's still present, a bright ball of rage in his heart that clouds his mind whenever he dwells too much on it.

Too agitated to get back to sleep, Robin gets up and checks on the twins cot. Morgan is drooling. The other Morgan has somehow ended up perpendicular to the mattress. Robin tucks them in as much as he can without disturbing them.

Wasn't there some medicine to help people calm down after a restless sleep? He should check if they have any lying around and make sure he carries some with him like he does along with his vulnerary.

His search ends up with him being outside Chrom's tent. He stops dead in his tracks and after a long internal debate, he enters.

Chrom's tent is bare, even if he is the prince and future Exalt of Ylisse. Chrom himself sleeps on a modest cot, though one too small for him as the ends of his feet dangle out of the bottom of the bed. He's sleeping peacefully and Robin can't help but stare.

A sturdy build, a tousled mop of blue hair, a capable fighter wielding the Falchion. The resemblance should anger Robin, it should trigger the same irrational momentary spark of rage whenever he now glances at Lucina. Instead, Robin always finds himself calmer when his thoughts turn to Chrom…

Chrom shifts and cracks one eye open. "… Robin?"

Robin jolts and turns around. "Sorry I—"

"Were you watching me sleep? "

"No, I had a nightmare and thought—Nevermind, forget you saw me and apologies for waking you up."

He leaves before Chrom can say anything else.

\*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*/

This is rather light-hearted, but it'll get darker/more dramatic in the next couple of chapters, so heed the warning tags.

New chapters will be posted every week on Saturday. The story has been written in its entirety, and a complete version can be found on AO3.

Reviews are appreciated. As always, you can find me as SleepDeprivedFemale on tumblr and Sleepy#3903 on discord ✌