This final chapter features more Shepherds including but not limited:
Cordelia the Horsegirl
Big Sis Nowi
Libra as the GOAT
Henry as Henry
Gaius as Very Calm About This Whole Ordeal
Lucina as 'are we sure we should go head first in trusting the giant evil dragon that wanted to - and would have done so had I not intervened - kill my family and my kingdom and a good chunk of the world-'
Tiki as Surprise Guest Appearance oh no
\*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*/
"... And that's why the central Temple is under renovation," Robin concludes, scribbling some final vague timeline notes to keep himself from looking at the rest of the gathered Shepherds. He sits back down on a nearby stool soon after he finishes, as his joints still bother him, his ankles growing sorer the longer he stands up.
After Chrom escorted him out of the temple, the next few hours were a whirlwind of Tharja fretting over him while he stopped her from committing manslaughter against the church of Naga, Lissa frantically healing him while bombarding Chrom with questions and the Morgans attaching to him like fleas. At dawn, things had somewhat calmed down, and Robin was discreetly transported to the castle and confined to bed. The Morgans stayed by his bedside along with Tharja, who forwent any notion of discreteness and recast her hexes out in the open.
Despite Lissa's skill and his own magic, Robin's human form sustained a lot of damage, so his injured eyes and joints were bandaged. During the day Tharja popped in and out, bringing him cooling salves to apply over his most sore areas. Chrom dropped in and out too, mostly to tell him that no, Ylisee was not on fire and he needed to stay down and rest.
And then as the sun was setting, Chrom came one final time and told him he called for a general meeting with the Shepherds in the barracks. He looked apologetic and said he would talk to them and sort this out while keeping things under wraps as much as he could. Normally, Robin would have left it at that, but either because he was still concussed or because that painkiller Tharja gave him a couple of hours ago affected his judgement, he told Chrom he would come in and tell the Shepherds the truth. The whole truth.
'The whole truth' ended up becoming a bit of a misnomer, as Robin took some creative liberties in his retelling. He removed his mental breakdown for starters, as well as some more of the gory aspects of his interrogation, and kept the ultimate fate of his captors' remains vague.
Then again, most of them probably stopped listening after the 'I am Grima' introduction. Which also was that vague first explanation he first gave Chrom when he woke up from their fight at the Dragon's Table.
"... Chrom and I were trying to come up with ways to reveal this to you without causing a panic," Robin lies, "but as the situation developed..."
He pauses as he glances at an empty seat, Lucina's. Halfway through his talk, she had stood up and politely excused herself, not looking at Robin as she left the tent. Chrom was about to follow her when Robin gave him a quick shake of the head. Out of all people here, it is understandable she would take this the hardest. His future self was a real bastard. Robin would know, he killed him himself.
Lissa is the first to react, standing up, marching to Chrom and hitting him in the shoulder. "You dummies!" Chrom lets out a surprised gasp, but she punches him again, though the gesture is of the harmless sibling variety and not using the same strength she uses to swing axes in the battlefield. "That's what you two have been keeping from us for such a long time! And you didn't tell me! Do you know how worried I was — first you show up in my room all bloody, then you say Robin's gone missing and next thing I know you're gone and..." She turns around to Robin, looking ready to punch him as well, but her gaze lingers a bit too long on his bandages, and her hand falls with a pout. "You should have told us sooner!"
As a lost Chrom tries to calm Lissa down, Robin throws a quick glance at Frederick. The knight is staring at him, though out of politeness shifts his gaze to the undecipherable scribbles on the canvas.
"I suppose your first distrust was astutely wise, isn't that right, Frederick?" Robin asks, curious about his answer.
The man lets out a deep sigh. "My past self may have agreed with that, but my present self would not." He gives Robin a long look that he cannot interpret the meaning behind. "You've been an... invaluable ally to milord, and everyone else as well."
"What a cruel twist of fate indeed!" Virion announces, his words carrying all the gravitas of his umpteenth proposal to a disinterested lady. "To discover that you were not merely a vessel for the villain but the villain himself! Not even the most imaginative poets could have conjured—"
Cherche clears her throat and speaks over her former lord: "What Virion is trying to say is that this is an... unexpected turn of events."
"I'll say," Sully adds with a frown. "This sounds like a real mess. First you show up with no memories, and then it turns out you're Grima's vessel or something, and then you find out you were Grima all along? And then some of our own abduct and torture you? Yeesh."
"Uh," Stahl speaks up after raising his hand, "just double-checking, but we won't have to be in another war, right?"
"No," Chrom and Robin simultaneously answer before Robin continues: "I've been doing some... discreet manipulating of my own, steering the Grimleal towards a peaceful resolution."
"Discreet?" Miriel asks with a raised eyebrow. "What is your rationale behind such an approach?"
"The Grimleal won't accept such a radical shift of their goals," Robin answers. "We must be careful, lest they try something as stupid as Naga's Church in last night's debacle."
Miriel raises an eyebrow. "But the Grimleal swear the vows to you, do they not?"
"As if that ever stopped hum—" Robin cuts himself off with a grimace. This is not the time for him to fall back to old habits. "... I never trusted the Grimleal, and I suspect to some extent, the feeling is mutual."
An awkward silence descends among them. Robin hopes it's not because of what he almost said.
"So that explains the strange scent on you," Panne mutters, just loud enough to be heard.
"The what?"
"Nothing, manspawn-uh, hm." She pauses in thought. "Robin."
Gaius lets out a low whistle. "From manspawn to first name basis, that's an upgrade."
He's joined in laughter by a few Shepherds as the atmosphere eases into something less stifling. Panne has a faint smirk as well, and Robin thinks she deliberately let herself be overheard.
Olivia raises her hand. "Um, I have got a question." At Robin's nod, she gently gestures towards his wings with a faint blush of excitement. "Can you... fly?"
Robin looks down at his appendages with a frown. "I don't know. I haven't tried."
"How can you not try to fly when you get wings?" Gaius asks, aghast. "Got a few screws loose, Bubbles — uh..." He frowns. "You still cool with me calling you Bubbles? I'm not much for all that 'my draconic dark lord' stuff."
"Yes, you may keep calling me Bubbles, Gaius."
The man gives him a thumbs back and leans back in his seat.
"So you're realy this big scary dragon?" Ricken blurts out. "For real?"
Robin gives him a flat look. "... Yes."
Ricken's head retreats into his collar. "Sorry, it just hasn't sunk in—"
"I don't see it." Donnel cuts him off with narrowed eyes.
Robin in turns narrows his six eyes — though only two are visible as the rest are currently bandaged — at Donnel.
The boy merely tilts his head. "I mean, those eyes you showed us are a bit strange, but no weirder than some of the things we've faced."
"Yes. And the wings are fluffy," Ricken adds, apparently deciding to team up with Donnel. "Not very evil-like."
Robin never thought he'd feel self-conscious about how evil-looking his wings are, but life keeps throwing him curve balls.
"I think Robin's wings look very nice," Sumia adds, apparently trying to come to his defence in the worst way possible.
"I don't know, they could do with some brushing," Cordelia thoughtfully adds, making Robin feel even more self-conscious.
"Hey, dad's dragon form is very cool," one of the Morgans adds, and though Robin is glad his offspring come to his defence, he can barely stop himself from physically cringing.
"Hm, it is strange to imagine little grumpy man turn to big, scary dragon." Great, now Gregor is ganging up on him too. "But you get scary during battle, so perhaps that was sign! Ha!"
"Hey, that means we still won, right?" Vaike asks. "The Vaike won't have to subtract our fight at Plegia from his long list of victories!"
"I'm surprised you know the word subtract," Miriel says.
"Hey, I know basic math!"
"Guys, you're all missing the big picture!" Nowi yells as she jumps between them and Robin. "So, with your power sealed in your human form, you're basically a manakete, right?!"
There are so many things wrong with her statement that Robin can only bring himself to nod. "I suppose."
"And you're like, what, twenty-something?" Nowi's smile turns smug. "You're a baby!" She points, earning a round of laughter from everyone.
Robin stands up straighter. "I'm not—"
"Baby," Nowi sternly says, and before Robin can protest, she has him wrapped in a headlock. "But don't worry, big sis Nowi will teach you anything you need to know, including how to fly! It's really fun!"
"And you know what else this means!" Henry cackles, and Robin prepares for a cheerfully dark statement that hits too close to home. "You all owe me!"
Robin gives the sorcerer a questioning look, momentarily pausing his attempt to escape Nowi's headlock. Henry's smile widens as he gestures at a large parchment pinned to a wall opposite.
When Robin first joined the Shepherds, he put up a blank parchment in one of the barrack's bare walls in order to present new plans and strategies, though it soon ended up being used for keeping track of the various betting pools within the Shepherds. Such pools ranged from mundane topics such as tomorrow's weather or meal, to more in-jokes such as Sully's arm-wrestling victories, to the now-outdated bets on Robin's true identity.
That last pool takes up a considerable estate on the parchment due to the various answers the Shepherds have written down, ranging from the mundane and realistic, (Grimleal, scholar, military officer) to complete nonsense; 'Human' by Panne which resulted in a huge debate over whether that was an acceptable answer (eventually they collectively voted against it, much to the Taguel's annoyance); 'Just some guy' by Donnel, backed by Nowi and Vaike; 'Just some guy (but evil)', from Gaius, also backed by Nowi — Robin wasn't sure what the manakete bribed Anna with as to bet multiple times, but no one called her out on it so it stayed as is.
After Gaius' prediction was Robin's, as he had walked up to them while everyone was setting their bets. The Shepherds had gone quiet, possibly debating whether they should call this particular betting pool off. Keeping a straight face, Robin merely picked up a quill, walked up to the parchment and wrote 'The most eligible bachelor in all of Plegia', earning him a lot of laughter and momentarily making him forget his growing anxiety of his unknown past.
Though that levity left him when Henry blurted out: 'The Fell Dragon Grima!' moments later. He thought it was another off-colour joke, but the mage had insisted, saying it'd be a funny bet.
Back then, Robin's amnesiac self did not appreciate the joke. His current self will admit it's darkly amusing, especially with how much he cursed at the Fell Dragon after the origin and purpose of his Brand was revealed.
"Uh," a voice comes close to Robin and he finally notices Kellam is sitting right in the middle of everyone. Judging by everyone else's surprised reaction, they hadn't noticed him either. "Do we, really? I brought some armour polish with the money... I thought it would make me more noticeable..."
"Your purchases are admirable, Sir Kellam," Maribelle primly says.
"Hey, you only take his side because you won some of the prize money too!"
"I did not!" Maribelle protests even if her cheeks turn scarlet. "Besides—"
"No buts, Fell Dragon it is, now give me all your money, nyahaha!"
Robin lets their group argue as he looks at the very back of the room, where Lon'qu is polishing his sword. Their gazes meet, and the man merely gives him a nod before going back to cleaning his blade.
Robin leans back against the wall to ease the weight off his back. He looks over the Shepherds, who, after finding out he's the Wings of Despair, the Breath of Ruin, the Fell Dragon Grima, are preoccupied with insulting his appearance, settling bets, or whether they can still call him by pet names.
"Reprobates, the lot of you," Robin grumbles with an undertone of fondness. "If you're the best humanity has to offer you're sorely lacking."
"Aye aye sir," comes a chorus-like response, in the same tone as when they received his orders during battle. A dry, occasionally grumbled response, since they quickly learned that trying to argue against his frequently unorthodox tactics would have them assigned to worse chores or, more frequently, side-lined.
The chorus descends into laughter, and Robin finds himself joining it.
\*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*/
The hour is ungodly-late-o'clock, and Robin would have normally gone to bed if everyone else wasn't awake and getting as drunk as a fiddler. He is wandering among the gathered groups across the tables until he notices a small commotion by the entrance.
"Come on, Henry, just a sip!" Morgan whines as he leans against the sorcerer and extends her hands up at her target.
Henry only holds the bottle higher, his grin wide. "Nope! Or your dad will eat me. Do you want him to eat me?"
Though Henry looks like he has the upper hand, the other Morgan tiptoes behind him, eyes trained on the bottle.
"He's not gonna eat you, he just says that—"
Robin walks up and snatches the bottle, earning him a few surprised yelps.
"Yes, because people are wise enough to do as I order," Robin says as he holds back a yawn. "Now you lot go to bed, it's late — no buts, you didn't get a proper sleep last night too." He looks back and waves his hand at Ricken, who approaches him with an eager look. "Ricken, you get babysitting duty, and make sure to tuck yourself in, too. I'm leaving you solely responsible so if I find any of you sneaking about, it's manure-shovelling duty for the week."
As the young mage pales, distraction-Morgan groans. "Nowi's not getting to bed!"
'Nowi's age is a mess because manaketes are just like that,' Robin wants to say, but he is not that sleep-deprived yet. "Nowi's old enough to be your grandma, and I'm sure she had to go to bed early for a much longer time than you'll have to. Now scram."
After a combined disgruntled look from the twins, Ricken manages to escort them out. The threat of manure-shovelling duty will keep the young mage on his toes. If the Morgans do manage to get their hands on some alcohol, it won't be the end of the world, but this is one of Robin's duties as a parent.
Speaking of such, he turns to Henry. "Thanks for that."
"No worries! Just doing my civic duty in not becoming dragon food!"
Henry's smile is wide, so Robin laughs before he catches himself. "Just to make sure, I am joking—"
"I know, I know," Henry quickly says before he leans in conspiratorially. "But also I heard you ate the Hierarch whole, is that true?!"
"Baseless accusations," Robin mumbles, but Henry's stare is unrelenting. "... A finger at best," he lies. "I don't much care for the taste of meat anymore."
Henry laughs so hard he doubles over, while Robin merely huffs with a half-genuine smile. After somewhat setting down, Henry excuses himself and goes to pester Panne, letting Robin have a quiet moment to himself.
His ankles ache again, so Robin grabs a tankard of watered-down beer and takes a seat by a table in the back. Slowly, he removes some of the bandages around his eyes, as part of Lissa's confusing instructions as to 'use them, but not tire them too much'.
Robin's vision triples, but the images are blurry, as if he's underwater. Even the faint candlelight takes him a few moments to adjust, for his new visions to get used to the light and the cold sting of air.
Resisting the urge to rub his now uncovered eyes, Robin sits back and watches the Shepherds. Gregor and Vaike are trying to drink each other under the table, with Nowi and Donnel as their respective cheerleaders. Miriel and Tharja are engaged in a spirited half-coherent debate about some obscure subfield of dark magic. Sully and Stahl have an arm-wrestling match. Chrom and Lucina are nowhere to be found.
Robin doesn't realise he's nursing a fond smile until someone approaches him from the side and he sobers up. "Libra."
During their earlier meeting, Libra sat by the far side and kept quiet. Robin is surprised he was let out of the infirmary, but besides a few bandages poking out of his vestments, the priest looks as healthy and beautiful as ever.
"... Robin," Libra softly says as he stops his approach a few feet away. His voice is low enough that Robin almost doesn't hear him over the sound of Nowi chanting Gregor's name. "May I...?"
One set of Robin's eyes, two red marble-like spheres with the surrounding skin puffy and inflamed, more monster than human, darts to the barely visible bandages under Libra's slightly undone collar. The other watches the priest's expression slightly widen but school itself back to serenity moments later.
Robin gestures to the empty space beside him while gathering his wings closer to his back. The bench on the other side of the table is also empty, so Robin is curious if Libra will take up his offer.
Libra does with a small bow. "Apologies if I'm intruding. I know this must feel hollow coming from me, but I sincerely want to apologise for what happened—"
"It does not," Robin cuts him off. "But there's no need. What's done is done."
"Still..."
"I'm not apologising," Robin says, feeling slightly agitated. "So you shouldn't either. Not in this case."
Libra goes quiet and Robin scolds himself for not toning that part of him down. He's been doing so all evening, but his returning vision and Libra's presence are enough to drown out the merry atmosphere for the memory of dark inescapable catacombs.
Robin takes a big swig from his tankard. The alcohol is too diluted to do its work; He should dig around for some spirits that are definitely stashed in some cold, forgotten corner. "What do you think of humanity, Libra?"
"I..." the Priest trails off as he thinks for a long time. "I suppose the answer I should give is that I love humanity unconditionally, as any so-called Saint of Naga is wont to do."
Robin's lips curl into a smirk at Libra's qualifier. "But...?"
"I don't think I can make that claim in earnest." Libra looks away, troubled. "There exist some truly despicable people that I fear salvation is beyond them..."
Robin makes an agreeing hum as he trails a finger along the rim of his cup. He wonders if he, Grima, falls within that group.
He probably does.
"But if that was the whole story, things would be relatively simple," Libra continues, and his tone becomes more insistent. "So I do not believe all people who commit terrible deeds are unforgivable."
"How convenient," Robin croons as he brings his cup to his mouth to hide his acerbic smile. "You don't have to be diplomatic with your answers."
"I am referring to myself."
Robin chokes on his drink. He brings the cup down and wipes his mouth off the sputtered foam. "Apologies, I assumed—"
"That would be a reasonable assumption to make. And there is a convenience to such a way of thinking, is there not?"
Robin stares at Libra with the full force of his gaze. The priest rarely brought up his past, and whenever he did, the story was a vague tale of a poor abandoned orphan finding salvation in Naga. It was rather stereotypically tug-at-your-heart-strings origin, but one Robin never had any reason to doubt it until now.
Libra remains as unflappable as ever, intriguing Robin even more.
"So how do you square that circle?" Robin asks. "There are unredeemable people who do awful things, but not all people who do awful things are unredeemable?"
Libra frowns. "... I'm afraid I have no universal answers, only situational observations." He looks from the Shepherds to Robin. "But I believe an essential component is recognition of such crimes for what they are and a desire not only to not repeat them, but to actively work against them."
Robin holds his gaze, face blank.
"But that still falls within the trap of convenience, ultimately, for how do you judge what lies in one's heart, or whether a good act can counteract an evil one?" Libra sighs. "These are the questions I still struggle with."
Robin stares at Libra even when the man looks away back at the rest of the room. "... You've certainly put more thought into it than any Grimleal I've met." He leans forward with a sly smirk. "I don't mean to cause offense, but such complexity is wasted as one of Naga's disciples."
Out of all the reactions Robin expects, an amused smile is not one of them. "I don't think it would make a difference, personally."
Well, well, well. Libra gets more interesting by the second.
"But what is the nature of your grudge with Her Ladyship?" Libra asks.
Robin opens his mouth, but it devolves into a bitter smile as he smothers down the urge to curse her. Libra doesn't react at his grimace, as patient as ever, so Robin takes the time to think.
His first answer would be that he was angry at Naga for stopping his world-ending plans. That was the only reason when it came to most people who'd heard of Grima, and it was not untrue. He did hate Naga's guts for interfering.
But it was not the only reason. He's not shallow enough for his feelings on Naga to be summed up with one vague emotion. There's disgust at her supposed love for what he then saw as pathetic, worthless creatures. Terror that she succeeded in sealing him away with only one of her fangs. Despair for having to spend so long in the Dragon's Table, a prison sentence longer than that of Thabes' Labyrinth.
But all those were compounding emotions, brought to the surface the more he thought about them. If they would be washed away, then deep down he felt...
He felt the same way when Chrom threw away his blade. Confusion at her choice. But unlike Chrom, opposite to what Chrom had done, there was...
"Too many to recite," Robin says, then scowls at his unsatisfying reply. "But a lack of answers would be one of them."
Because he can't say 'betrayal' out loud.
"... I hope you find them one day," Libra says and Robin responds with a shrug. He doesn't expect he ever will. "And to expand on your previous question if you don't mind, I also don't believe there's any such thing as an inherently evil or good creature, nor one that has committed solely good or evil acts."
"Interesting words coming from a saint of Naga."
"I'm not..." Libra trails off with a sigh.
"What about the Risen? I'm struggling to come up with any redeeming features," Robin says as he leans back. If he pretends they're under some rickety tent a mile or so from the battlefield, their conversation would almost feel normal. He'd be back to just being the tactician of the shepherds, making sure no one gets himself killed, getting lost in conversations...
"They're more pitiable than evil. Their souls have long departed from their bodies, and that is a blessing in itself since I dread to think how their owners would react at the mere sight. They are neutral, unable to do anything else but follow orders."
"Ah, so what about the one giving them orders?"
Libra's expression remains one of unreadable calmness. "I'd question their recruitment tactics. Surely there's an easier way to raise an army."
Robin can't help but chuckle. It's not often that Libra jokes.
"But I would see them as someone backed into a corner," the priest continues. "And desperation can make us do horrible things." He looks thoughtfully at Robin, whose amusement vanishes.
Robin tries to take a swig from his cup only to find it empty. "... I take it your injuries are healing well."
Libra's eyes slightly widen and his hand hovers up to his shoulder, where one of his wounds is. "Oh yes, praise Naga. It was fortunate that the arrow merely went through muscle."
"Probably deliberate. They wanted to immobilise you, not hurt you."
Libra looks increasingly uncomfortable, though his expression soon turns to one of concern. "And I've noticed your eyes have not."
Robin shrugs. "They will, in time. One of the downsides of having a human form, I suppose. I heal much slower now." He hand-waves Libra's resulting worried look. "Not that I'm in danger of succumbing to my injuries. You can cut my head off and I'll still live."
Miserably so, and Libra must have realised that since the concern does not leave his face.
Oh great. They're back to their initial awkwardness. Honestly, it's as if all those months of Robin learning to make conversation are gone.
A few silent moments pass between them until Libra holds back a yawn, which he tries to mask by tucking away a stray lock of hair. Robin notices there are dark circles under his eyes.
"I see I'm not the only one who hasn't been sleeping well."
"Ah." Libra is momentarily startled, and he smooths his expression moments later. "It's nothing to worry about. Just a bit shaken up..."
"Nightmares?"
Libra's hum is all he needs as confirmation. Robin can take a guess as to the cause.
"I will apologise for that," the Fell Dragon says, and though he's purposefully only looking at his cup, he can feel the radiance of... something coming from Libra. "I have some medicine for that kind of thing. Doesn't work on me, so you can have my stash."
"Thank you. Ah, but that's not what I was here for initially..."
When Libra goes quiet, Robin glances over to see the priest reaching for his satchel. Curious, he attempts to peer over Libra's shoulder, but a playful stern look from the priest has him reeling back like a scolded schoolboy.
Libra lays a flat rigid envelope on the table, the kind Robin uses when writing away from a table or when transporting documents that couldn't be neatly folded up.
Carefully, Libra unties the string and takes out a long sheet of paper — a drawing Robin realises.
Of himself.
Or rather, his new self.
His mark trails down from his eyes to his mouth. All his eyes are open, but they're calm, calmer than he has ever seen them. His hands are ungloved, the mark of Defile is slightly smudged, as if it's an ordinary detail like the Thoron tome close to his chest. His clothes are clean and neatly pressed, the pencil work somehow capturing the glint of his gold trimmings as if facing the sun. Behind him extend three sets of wings, grey and fluffy, more fit for a pegasus than himself. His actual wings are messier than than, but probably because he has no idea how to care for them beyond soaking them in a bathtub and hoping for the best — he should swallow his embarrassment and ask Sumia or Cordelia for tips—
"It's like I'm looking at a stranger," Robin says before he can stop himself. His visions turn hazy, and he has to blink a couple of times until they clear.
"Oh." Libra softly frowns as he looks between his work and Robin. "I just wanted to update that portrait I made of you. Apologies I didn't mean to—"
"No, no, I like it. A good reminder..." Robin trails off unsure.
"Well, there's one more thing," Libra continues as he carefully to turn the paper over, relieving another painting—
It's him again.
Ylissean drawings depict Robi—Grima as the villainous bloodthirsty dragon in their legends, featuring him in battlefields full of dead, perched over them or with his long serpentine body wrapped around the landscape, often with wounds on his side and bloody claws and teeth.. The Grimleal depict him just as bloody, though usually triumphant, flying towards the sky with his mouth open mid-roar.
Libra has drawn him lazily curled up between two verdant valleys. His head is nestled at the centre over his coils, with his eyes closed while his wings are awkwardly splayed out. There's no blood or dirt on him. Just a sleepy dragon lounging in the sun.
Robin's visions blur again. To stop himself from rubbing his eyes, Robin hurries to reapply the bandages around them.
"Is everything...?"
"The dust and light," Robin quickly says. "And I'm tired."
"Of course—"
"Thank you." Robin quickly says before his courage leaves him. "Truly."
Wordlessly, Libra lays a hand on his shoulder with a smile. Robin reciprocates the smile as he rests his head against his hand and just exists.
The noise is less bothersome now. Even when this quiet moment is broken up by Vaike projectile vomiting while Sully yells bloody murder, Robin doesn't mind.
\*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*/
As the hours pass, those who aren't already plastered become so, while the rest eventually drift off to sleep. The more coherent ones shuffle to the empty bedrooms in the barracks, but most end up in a small pile in the middle of the main room.
Robin carefully steps over a snoring Sully using Sumia's thighs as a pillow, as he exits the barracks to the courtyard. The night air is crisp and Robin eases away some of his sleepiness with a stretch and a yawn.
It's a quiet, cloudless night. So quiet that he can hear two voices over a hedge by the side of the building.
Chrom and Lucina.
"—doesn't make sense!"
Robin automatically takes a step back at the sound of Lucina's voice. He hasn't seen her since she left the barracks. Did she spend all that time outside?
"I know." Chrom's voice is reassuring at first, but Robin frowns as he continues: "I had a hard time believing it at first—"
"But this is not... if things are as you say, I can't... I don't know if I have it in me to forgive Grima. What he's done..."
Well. He expected as much.
"I know, and I am not asking you to do that. I have no right." Chrom apparently agrees too. "But what I am trying to say is that Robin is your world's Grima to the same extent that I am your father."
"But you are..." Lucina trails off. Probably thinking, her brow furrowing in the same way Chrom's does.
"You said it yourself that fate can be changed. And you meant that in many ways. Preventing the world from being destroyed, preventing my death... But we can take it a step further." Chrom pauses, but then his voice returns much louder: "Isn't that right, Robin?"
Robin freezes in place. When Lucina gasps, and there is a shuffling movement as if someone got up, Robin decides to take the initiative and walks around the bushes, hoping the darkness covers his increasingly flushed cheeks. Lucina and Chrom are sitting by a bench, though Lucina is halfway up but has frozen to the spot, looking between Chrom and Robin with wide eyes.
Chrom lets out a small laugh at the two, completely shameless. "I've become better at knowing when you're skulking about."
"I was just passing through," Robin lies as he stiffly bows. "I didn't mean to interrupt, so I'll be taking my leave, apologies—"
"Wait!" Lucina calls out to him and he stops on his tracks. She looks as surprised as him at her gesture. "Robin... Grima?"
He shrugs. "Either's fine."
Lucina slowly nods. "I don't know if I can forgive the Grima of my world for what he did."
Robin nods back, expecting such an outcome. It is one thing to think that a person would be possessed by an evil dragon and commit terrible acts, another thing to be said by a dragon and not do said acts out of some ill-defined change of heart.
"But... if that is not to happen in this world, I am glad," Lucina slowly continues, stealing a glance at her father. "For everyone who came together," she fixes her gaze to Robin, "and for the decisions they made."
A strange feeling bubbles in Robin's head and he nods. His knees feel weak, but that must be the alcohol finally catching up with him.
Chrom clears his throat as the two fall silent. "Well, it's not as if we're finished. We still need to meet with the Grimleal and their new regent—"
"How did this happen?" Lucina cuts him off with an apologetic look before solely focusing on Robin.
"Ah, what has Chrom already told you?" Robin sheepishly asks, glad he can change the subject to something more abstract. "It's quite interesting actually, similar to amnesia—"
"That's not what I mean," Lucia says, keeping her gaze steady. "What happened to Grima? Why did he — you did what you did back then, and why would you wish to replicate it in the future?"
Cold. Robin is cold, and his smile is frozen.
Lucina often reminds him of Chrom in the most inconvenient of ways.
Chrom's expression grows concerned as he lays a hand on Lucian's shoulder. "Maybe now is not the best time—"
"Then when will it be? You both say this was caused by amnesia or something similar but how could someone change so radically after they lose their memories? What kind of world — what events—?"
Robin stiffly turns around and heads back to the barracks. Lucina calls out for him, but her voice is soon drowned by the drunken merry of the Shepherds.
"Bubbles!" Gaius slurs as he precariously tips his cup in Robin's direction. "Was jus' talking' 'bout you, 's it true dragons c'n h've two di-"
"Where's the liquor?"
Gaius laughs as he clumsily reaches out of the table and pulls up a half-full bottle with a terribly strong alcoholic smell. "But f'r serious m' guy, Tharja's a lucky—"
"Finish that sentence and she will hex you five ways from Sunday."
When Robin snatches the bottle, Gaius laughs and gives him a pat on the back before he goes back to talking about the different types of poison candy to a barely awake Lissa.
Speaking of Tharja, Robin sees her at one of the tables at a dark corner of the barracks, splayed out over the wood. As he approaches, he gives the bottle an experimental sniff before his whole face scrunches up at an overwhelming stench of ethanol. So that explains how it's not completely empty.
He takes a sip, swallowing a mouthful before his eyes water and his throat burns.
"Mm," Tharja hums as he approaches with a tipsy smile. "Robin, my beloved..." She tries to get up but ends up draping herself over him. "This is getting boring, let's—"
"Lucina wants a heart to heart and I'm seriously considering spilling my darkest secrets," Robin says once he gets his lungs under control. "Wanna join?"
Tharja pauses, taking a moment of intense concentration to understand Robin's words before she rises and holds on to his shoulder for dear life.
Taking that as all the affirmation he needs, Robin guides her outside while taking another mouthful of the foul liquid as they exit into the courtyard.
"Oh," Chrom says when the two round the bushes, Lucina just as surprised at their arrival. "We didn't think you'd come back — did you bring—?"
"Mine," Robin says, holding the bottle close to his lap even if the gesture is childish. "I'll need it."
"You look sad. There, there." Tharja pats his head as he guides her down to the bench, then sits down as well. "Who made you sad? I'll hex them."
Robin laughs. The liquor must be taking hold. "Long dead."
"Can't hurt to hex them to make sure they stay dead."
His laugh returns with a manic edge. "I might just take you up on that for this man."
"Robin?" Unlike Tharja, Lucina is very sober and very cautious. "What is this about?"
Robin's smile drops but swiftly returns with a twitch. To think someone of his reputation would be lost to the annals of history...
It's as he said to Chrom; All a big fucking joke in the end.
"Have you ever heard of an alchemist called Forneus?"
Even if clumsy, Tharja's grip becomes tighter while Chrom's frown deepens. Lucina slowly shakes her head.
"Great! So one morning a couple of thousand years ago, or maybe it was an afternoon, I don't really know nor care, a woman died, and her husband had the audacity to think he could find a way to bring her back..."
\*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*/
Robin wakes up with his head feeling it's been split in two. He's robeless and on top of Tharja, who has all her limbs wrapped around him and is content snoring into the crook of his neck. There's an odd, wet pressure on his wings, and he slowly cranes his throbbing head at its source.
Chrom is on Robin's other side, the man splayed out in his sleep like a starfish. Sumia is nestled on one side, and on top of her and Chrom is Cordelia, who has somehow ended up perpendicular to them and is nuzzling his feathers, muttering sweet nothings about her pegasus.
Robin tries to retract his captured wing, but Cordelia frowns and pulls it closer while mumbling something akin to a gentle scold for an unruly steed.
Increasingly embarrassed, Robin bats her head with one of his other wings.
Cordelia comes to with a snort. She blinks her bleary eyes, grimacing from the hangover. She frowns at the wings she's been nuzzling, then traces them up at Robin and freezes in place. Robin can practically see the alcohol-rusted gears turn in her brain.
Cordelia's face turns a share of red that Robin has never seen on her, almost as bright as her hair. Wordlessly, she gets up and turns around, taking a moment to steady herself from the hangover she's surely suffering from.
"Where are you off to?" Robin calls after her, trembling from laughter so much as to cause Tharja to mumble and turn around.
Cordelia stills, her shoulders hunched. "Off to find a creek deep enough to drown myself in," she mumbles, and Robin has to take a deep breath to stop himself from laughing. His hangover is combining with his shaking and giving him a headache.
As Cordelia rubs the sleep off her eyes by the entrance, Robin looks over the rest of the piled up Shepherds. Vaike and Gregor are loudly snoring, with Nowi spread over the chest of the latter man like an exhausted cat. Sully has somehow ended up sleeping on a table. Lucina is not here, but she was a sane one who drank reasonably and probably went to her quarters like a responsible adult—
And the rest of the night's events catch up to him, including but not limited to his drunken retelling of Grima's — his origin.
If Robin was not squashed between people and nursing a headache, he would curl up and groan. Though it does not escape him that he had his first dreamless sleep in forever, he chalks it up to the alcohol.
Cordelia makes a choking sound from the doorway. "Oh, Lady Tiki?!" she loudly yells and the last remnants of Robin's amusement vanish. "Why are you — When did you arrive?"
His eyes dart to the doorway, where Cordelia is standing right in the middle, effectively blocking anyone from entering. Still, Robin spies a hint of a pink robe and his stomach plummets.
He silently shoots up, flinches at a throb of pain in his head and searches for his robe. It takes him a few seconds because of his disoriented state, but he eventually realises Tharja is using it both as a pillow and a blanket.
With a silent apology, Robin peels it away from her, rousing her from her sleep with a pained pout.
"We thought we parted ways after Walhart," Cordelia loudly babbles on, "not that you're not welcome here, but the barracks are a bit of a mess Lady Tiki—"
Tharja's eyes widen and she shoots up fully awake as Robin tries to locate the sleeves of his robe. Next to them, Sumia shifts as a few of the Shepherds also stir, thanks to Cordelia's loud conversation. Chrom, however, stays still, sleeping like a rock.
'Eyes?' Robin mouths at Tharja, realising his bandages have disappeared somewhere in the pile of bodies.
Tharja grimaces and makes a so-so gesture before mouthing: 'could say I tried a hex that went wrong—'
"Please be at ease," comes Tiki's calm voice from the doorway. "I am merely here for a quick conversation... then I will be on my way..."
'Conversation, my ass,' Robin mutters to himself as Tharja manhandles his wings close to his back.
"Huh... Tiki?" A sleepy Nowi asks before she jumps up, momentarily swaying on her feet before running to the door and tackling the manakete out of view. "Tiki! It's so good to see you again you won't believe how crazy things have got—"
Robin pales. He won't survive the humiliation if he ends up resealed because of a scatterbrained manakete who can't keep her mouth shut.
"Ah Nowi, just a sec there," Cordelia quickly adds and Robin makes a mental note not to tease about the earlier incident as a thanks. "I'm sure Lady Tiki is tired after her long journey. How about we let her rest first while we freshen ourselves up and then—"
"There's no need for subterfuge. I know." Before Cordelia can stop her, Tiki walks past her and into the barracks. Her eyes widen at the scattered piles of rousing people, but her gaze eventually settles on a frozen Robin halfway through putting his robe on.
Sumia, who has now also awoken, sharply inhales then pokes Chrom awake. The man takes a few seconds to awake, letting out a loud yawn first. "Huh? Oh, hello Tiki — Tiki?" He sits upright, quickly glancing at the statue-like Robin and Tharja, then back at the ancient manakete. "... Didn't you return to the Mila tree?"
"I came to visit," Tiki simply says, still staring at Robin.
Robin stares back for a few silent seconds. Eventually, he inclines his head in greeting. "... Tiki."
She reciprocates his gesture. "... Robin... is it?"
Ah, so her previous remark and not a fluke and she's not going to try to hide she knows what's going on.
Robin finishes putting his robe on and nods. "What brings you here?"
Tiki breaks eye contact, surveying the room. By now, the rest of the Shepherds are either still waking up, or staring between Tiki and Robin with various degrees of lucidness and understanding that they may be subject to a potential dragon-to-dragon deathmatch. "... It seems... we got a lot of things wrong."
Now Robin could cooperate and nod sagely and say they did, or ask for elaboration, but he's feeling rather petty and his headache doesn't help.
"Oh? I thought things went according to plan," he says with a smile. "Falchion awakened, Fell Dragon repelled, peace restored, all that? We're just missing the parades."
"Indeed it seems so... And yet things could not be more different..."
Robin's eyes narrow at her vagueness, but he stays silent.
"... We did not know, if that is something you are curious about," Tiki slowly continues. "Most of your power back then was sealed in the Dragon's Table... So for all intents and purposes you passed as human..." She tilts her head as she stares at him more like a curiosity than the sworn enemy of her mother. "There is a part of you that still does... it's quite strange..."
Robin keeps his eyes narrowed, not sure how she can tell he is Grima, or how she can sense that he's not a true divine dragon. "Why are you here?"
Tiki's expression softens. "... More of a whim... And it felt like something I should do..."
"And why is that?"
"Your power has been unsealed... And that is dangerous—"
And the other shoe finally drops.
Robin stops listening after that, a snarl building up in his throat. His magic builds up, but Tharja's hand on his shoulder grounds him and stops him from doing something rash.
Chrom moves between them with his hands up in a peace gesture. "Lady Tiki, Robin's not—"
"Oh... Please don't misunderstand... I did not mean for this to be interpreted as a threat..."
"There are so many ways I can interpret that, Voice of Naga," Robin says, barely holding back from amplifying his voice with magic.
Tiki frowns, though it's one of confusion rather than hostility. "That's understandable... This is very confusing... There are many dragons who have lost their minds... But none who have recovered—"
"I was never mad," Robin cuts her off. Though he has not always been perfectly coherent, he has seen the face of true madness on a long-dead man.
Tiki stares at him, unconvinced. "Still... There have been dragons who..."
"Swore to burn down all of creation?" Robin asks with a raised eyebrow.
Tiki frowns in discomfort. "... More or less... But they don't tend to... recover."
"That makes it sound like it's a frequent occurrence." Robin folds his arms, still scowling. "So am I right to assume Naga had a hand in why most dragons were gone by the time I arose?"
Long ago, that man told him of how dragons ruled the realm, and though the Creation resembled them, they would recognise him as other, and would ill-treat him. So, it was with some surprise that Robin emerged from the first of many tombs to find lands governed by humans, with any dragons left taking on a humanoid physical appearance, their powers sealed in stones. Even now he has no answer on that beyond a few sparse accounts of some dragon rulers, Mila and Duma being among them, turning against the very humans they swore to protect.
If Robin wants to be cynical, he can chalk it up to the dragons finally realising the deep seated awfulness within human souls, while being wistfully unaware that the same type of rot festered within them as well. But such a rapid decline makes no sense, and now from what Tiki is saying...
"Yes... We call it Degeneration... It affects long-lived dragons, and it's why I too... must sleep most of the time." She glances at a confused Nowi. "Or why the remaining dragons... must use stones to access their power..."
... This is new. A lot of this is very new. Not just to him, Robin notes as Chrom seems just as confused at Tiki's words.
Degeneration... He's never heard of that, and is not as gullible to take Tiki's words at face-value, but it provides some answers for a lot of his yet unanswered questions.
"So she turned against her own kind," Robin mumbles, more to himself than anyone else.
That also paints Naga's actions in a different light. Tiki made no outright claim of Naga fighting other dragons, but the fact that she seemed so at ease with her seal, and the existence of Falchion point to as much. So, when Naga sealed him too...
Perhaps she was more unaware of the full story than Robin thought. Which would in turn mean...
It's funny. Almost.
"Some chose to see it this way," Tiki answers, but Robin is half-listening to her. "I believe m-Naga put the well-being of people before any allegiance based on..."
"So what are you here for if not to fight?" Robin asks, drawing the others' alarm. Did they not realise what Tiki's arrival meant, even with the knowledge of Robin's true identity? "It seems we have everything covered."
"... I suppose I wanted to check up on things... Confirm my suspicions..." She pauses for longer than usual. "And offer advice."
Robin merely tilts his head, opting to be polite. He does not need any such thing, but is curious as to what Tiki thinks would constitute 'good advice'.
"We live long lives... And though we can forge strong connections with people that fill our hearts with joy... We must also temper such feelings lest they break beyond repair once the years pass us by..."
"Oh?" Though her words are carefully vague, Robin understands their meaning and sees the hypocrisy for what it is. "So you regret spending your time with Marth?"
Tiki stops halfway and stares at him, face even. "... That's uncalled for."
Robin shrugs. Any delight from pointing out the hypocrisy in her so-called 'advice' is offset by how close she seems to have taken his remark to heart.
But it's not as if Robin hasn't realised, or hasn't thought about it. But if those he loves die from old age, he can accept that, for he knows the inherent fragility of all life.
"And there's still the matter of degeneration..." Tiki continues.
Robin shrugs again. "There's no reason for you to worry. I've got enough human in me that this little disease of yours doesn't seem to affect me."
Tiki frowns and Robin gives her a sly smile. Let her tie herself into a knot trying to figure that mystery out. It's revenge enough for leaving him in the dark.
A thought strikes him that that man may have succeeded with one of his lofty goals, just not in the way he expected, but Robin quickly discards it. It doesn't matter either way.
"So it seems..." Tiki sighs. "You used to be more polite."
"I was an amnesiac," Robin answers, though he knows that's not a defence that holds up to scrutiny. "And I can still be polite, just not feeling up to it at the moment."
"Robin," Chrom whispers by his side, but he shrugs again. His head still hurts and this so-called confrontation with Naga — or her daughter at least — has not gone the way he expected.
"Then... I suppose that's all I came here for..." Tiki trails off, standing in the middle of the room awkwardly.
Robin frowns. Surely he and Naga can't just bury the hatchet with a morning hangover conversation. "Really now? That's all? You find out I don't want to destroy the world and it's all peachy?"
"What's there to do...?"
Now that type of question is something he's more familiar with. "Call off your dogs, for starters. I'm already dealing with the Grimleal, so you need to do your part. Go to the nearest Naga temple and after they stop bawling their eyes out, call off this whole sealing Grima decree, make up whatever excuse you think they'll buy... and for the love of everything, try not to blow my cover. The rest of Ylisse knows me as Robin and we've already disastrous mishap — ah yes, you could also appoint a new Hierarch, I have a few of the less bothersome candidates short-listed—"
Tiki's face falls the longer Robin keeps talking. "Please, one at a time... I've had a long journey..." She yawns.
"Join the club," Sully yells as she rises from her table with a groan. "Hey, someone go shake down Gaius for his hangover cure!"
The atmosphere eases as the Shepherds start making small talk. There's more Robin wants to add. The re-organising of the Council to include civilian representatives that Chrom will implement in coordination with Maribelle, using Thorpe's assault of him as an excuse. The upcoming meeting with Plegia's newly appointed leader. The state of an Exaltdom that no longer has a purpose to exist.
But, as Tharja pulls his robe down and uses it as a pillow again, as Chrom stretches and gives him a quick peck, Robin finds himself putting such things aside for now. For at least this morning.
Grima can be cynical about his situation. He can claim that he is only accepted because of a fluke, because of a cruel twist of fate that let him have a taste of what he could never have as long as he remained himself. That though he found himself surrounded by allies, they were just as rotten as the rest of humanity.
He can certainly come up with something for everyone. Tiki only wants to be reassured the danger is gone because she cannot face Grima at his full strength. Libra is a confused man, using his faith to mask whatever ways he finds himself wanting. Tharja is just as empty inside, deeply egotistical and worryingly immoral. Lucina will forever fret over a now-nonexistent past. Chrom is so desperate for a connection that he fell head over heels for the first one willing to accept and temper his darker aspects...
But Robin is sick and tired of this hatred, so he reciprocates the peck, makes sure Tharja is tucked in and heads out to make sure the Morgans' nightly shenanigans — for he knows the twins are too much like him — haven't gone too out of hand.
\*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*/
Robin/Grima's backstory in slides, by Robin:
Slide 1: Alchemy is an awful art that can create life, like dragons
Slide 2: A couple of thousand of years ago, some idiot went ahead and did just that
Slide 3: He died. Many more people died. There was a lot of dying. I had what the kids now call a mental health crisis.
Slide 4: Naga took out her tooth and nicked me with it making me go sleepy. Then rumours spread. As impressive as it would be, I am not evil incarnate, but a funky biology experiment gone wrong.
Slide 5: Hijinks of an amnesiac human: an autobiography
Final Slide: In conclusion: DO NOT CREATE LIFE. DO NOT BURDEN MORE MINDS WITH THE SUFFERING OF EXISTENCE.
Robin: any questions?
Morgan(s): Uh, dad?
Robin: I have no idea what happened and I apologise profusely.
And they definitely all lived happily ever after! At least as much as they can, considering… Robin's gonna be a little dysfunctional, but he's trying, bless.
This is the final chapter, so thank you all for sticking to this story. If you enjoyed it, please leave favourite and especially review. Also check out my other stuff if you're into more stories about sympathetic non-human/supernatural characters, or if you're into Soul Eater, JoJo, Genshin Impact, Hades, YGO...
As always, you can find me SleepDeprivedFemale on tumblr and Sleepy#3903 on discord ✌