Robin sat in a meditative silence, treatises regarding the current diplomatic relations of Ylisse spread across his grand oaken desk. On the battlefield he would know the correct actions, the tactical acumen of his experience allowing him to know exactly where and when to position, posture, feint, and strike.

But in the diplomatic field…

...Well, he was glad he was a fast learner.

The last war… the second war of the dragon as the public was beginning to call it, ended with a victory for "good". Yet even with the Fell Dragon… well, felled, the Grimleal suppressed- if not outright banished, and Valm freed from Walhart's despot reign, everything was still not right with the world. Succession of Plegia was in chaos, the kingdoms of Valm were reestablishing their independence at the expense of one-another, Ferox was depleted in both manpower and food, not to mention the coffers of Ylisse's previously recovering economy running dangerously low once again, even with many of their soldiers waving off their payments for the sake of a greater good. The only thing keeping the continent afloat was the Exalt's faith in peace and Ylisse's vast harvests.

Chrom, bless his heart and soul, but the man had barely a lick of understanding of what runs his country. He was trying his best- he had been thrust into the position with nary any training or formalities, and Robin hoped he would take up more of his duties sooner rather than later. Chrom needed to make decisions now as their liege, not just rely on those around him for his best course- even if it was the advice of his best friend.

Robin rubbed the weariness from his eyes, taking another strained look at the document in front of him. The report was recent… he thought. Dates were becoming a blur, and he started measuring the time spent in the office by candlesticks burned rather than moons passed. The wicked weave of diplomacy certainly had him trapped this time.

Plegia line of succession was in tatters, Gangrel leaving no heir or heir-inherent. To compound the situation, most nobles had ties to the Grimleal- and one of the only demands placed on Plegia after surrender was that no Grimleal ever take power again. Those that could be proven to have disassociated with the previous ruling cult wound up contended with all manner of claims. It wasn't until one particular nobleman of no special name had taken up the crown did some ensemble of normalcy return. He wasn't… installed by the Shepherds... but Tharja and Henry had helped his claim for the crown, and with the couple forming part of his advisory council, it ensured that a certain level of trust could be established between the Plegian and Ylissian courts. Robin could, at the very least, count on Tharja to keep him up to date with what goings on, and to remain loyal to the Shepherd's ideals of peace between the nations should their court start to waver in its commitments.

A reverie washed over him, as they were oft to do now that the turmoil had lapsed into an uneasy- but calm- tension. It was those days of the war that he looked to with a honest fondness one would not associate with a cataclysmic war... yet it was a conflict bred this admiration and devotion for his comrades in arms. The seemingly ever expanding roster of the Shepherds had grown into a multicultural and national mixture of soldiers, nobles, peasants, divine beings, dragons- each one of them a hero in their own right. In the end of it all, they were much a family as one's own flesh and blood. As much as both he and Chrom wished for them to stay, the others had homelands in dire need of heroes and leaders.

And then there were the others- those who didn't belong in this time, those who fought the hardest and the longest, but where did they have to turn to? They deserved every reprieve allowed, yet if they were to return home… it would only be more fighting, more death and destruction.

Vibrant red locks fell before his eyes, tickling his nose with the faint scent of wild poppy. Instinctively Robin raised his shoulders slightly, giving room under his weary limbs for those familiar lithe-yet-strong arms to snake around him in a warm embrace.

"My love, you are still reading? Won't you come to bed?" Robin's wife placed her cheek upon the top of his head. Gently she squeezed him, a false ploy to lift him from his stool, though, if she put her mind to it, there was no doubt Cordelia's strength could easily pluck him from it.

Robin simply leaned back, now pillowing his head upon her modest breasts as he gazed blankly upwards, as he was so oft to do. The expression on her face after seeing his own was more than enough to let him know he looked exhausted as he felt.

"I will… soon." Though the thought of his beloved wife barely covered in the shroud she called a nightgown was tempting… but the work was urgent- a necessary evil that not many would care to face. He felt her skillful fingers dig into the knotted muscles of his shoulders, wound into dense balls by remaining hunched over for hours.

"We both know that is a lie, dear." She dug in deeper, causing him to wince in pleasurable pain. "Your predictions and fears are often all too real." She continued to work the knot out, planting a small kiss on the top of his head every time he seized or winced until finally, it was defeated.

"Everyone fought so hard for this peace." Robin picked up the latest treaty from Regna Ferox, holding it up to angle some light on it… something about securing additional food aid for the coming winter? He would have to get to it after writing the foreign policy directives for their ambassador in Plegia… not to mention the mandatory letter to Tharja-

The paper slipped through his hands as Cordelia gracefully plucked it away during his moment of distraction. She gave it a quick once-over, nose held aloft as if to snob at the Feroxi herself.

"Hmm. Is this not what we have ambassadors and a vast surplus of eager bureaucrats for?" She tilted her head, letting her cherry locks spill over her ivory shoulders like a waterfall.

"Aye, but I should be drafting the logistics and supply of it-"

"My love." Gently she ran her hand along his cheek, "It is a task that one man should not do alone. You place too much weight upon your shoulders." Deftly Cordelia snatched up the quill from its well, and, in short order had begun the draft that Robin himself had been planning, right down to the exact trade routes and wagon companies he had thought up.

"Robin, dear. What was the surplus from last season's grain crop?"

"A-about twelve silos." He sat stunned as his wife proceeded to rifle through his paperwork, taking a seat upon the stool next to his own. She glanced over to him, that warm smile lighting her features even as the candles began to fade.

"You don't have to-"

"Nonsense!" Cordelia gently bopped his nose with a roll of parchment as if scolding a child. "Anything that keeps me away from you must be disposed of. Be it brigands, dragons, or paperwork!" She pulled her knees up to her chest, resting her cheek upon them. The most innocent and warm of smiles robbed the breath from his chest as she gazed back at him, "Besides that, we always work better as a team don't we?"

Robin draped his coat over her bare shoulders, surrendering to his wife's logic. As much as it was a shame to not admire her beauty in such a nightgown, they could ill afford the distraction. With a warm, gentle kiss that lingered far longer than normal, the couple set about ensuring the future of their realm.

"Mother? Father?" A voice faded in and out of muted haziness. Robin was slow to come to. It was a familiar jubilation… Morgan perhaps… he could sleep still, nothing urgent.

"Mother, put on some clothes before you catch a cold!"

"Gawds I hoped I'd never have to see mother in a nighty-"

Robin shot upright in a jolt of embarrassment-fueled adrenaline.

"GOOD MORNING GIRLS YOUR MOTHER AND I WERE JUST FINISHING THE-"

"We know, father." Severa sighed, pulling the drool stained document from Robin's now ink blotted face.

"You don't have to be embarrassed dad. You're going to have to make Sev eventually so you can get to me-"

"MORGAN-" the elder sibling lunged at her sister, who nimbly ducked towards their mother, the line Severa wouldn't cross.

"-SEVERA!" Morgan shouted back, giggling all the while at thwarting her scowling sister. Her cherry red head ducking and weaving around the room as a constant taunt to Severa.

"GIRLS!" Cordelia silenced both of them in one swift, powerful matronly note. "We do not yell in the castle, it is unbefitting you as ladies." Their mother stood, presence towering over all, the bags under her eyes apparent for all present. When the terrified daughters of Cordelia froze, she spoke once again in the gentle refined tone Robin was so accustomed to. "And you may also attract… unwarranted attentions which would be unwise given my current dress." Cordelia tightened the coat around herself further, a faint rose flushing her cheeks, "Severa, could you be a dear and get me a proper court dress? And Morgan, love, could you fetch your father and I a small breakfast, we were up quite late, you see."

"Aye aye, mother!" Morgan snapped a salute before taking off down the hall, exuberant smile that Robin deemed inappropriate for the current hour of the morning.

"Gladly-" Severa stormed out after her sister, and Robin swore he saw his daughter mirroring the same embarrassed glow as on Cordelia's face.

With the girls gone, Robin and Cordelia breathed the smaller sigh of relief.

"A handful... and they are mostly grown-" Robin joked with a sheepish rub of his neck. However, instead of the expected giggle at their present situation, Cordelia grew wistful, staring out the window at the rising sun.

"I wanted to tell you last night…" She began slow and unsure, nothing like her usual self. Robin had his suspicions, but…

Cordelia took a deep breath, distant gaze pulling into that familiar slight curving of her lips, that subtle smile he had grown so fond of over the years.

"I'm with child." The smile was small, loving… yet melancholy at the same time. Both of them knew what it meant. Robin collapsed into his seat, shock overcoming the excitement of good news.

Cordelia sat in his lap, gently taking his hands unto hers and placing them upon her belly. He gave her a loving embrace as a way to show his excitement without words exchanged.

"Should we tell the girls?"

"They will want to know."

"They might not feel like they are welcome when it happens."

"Severa and Morgan have been preparing for this day." Cordelia's voice was distant, sorrowful… Robin knew too, though he was loathe to admit it. Those two girls were their children. Even if it was from another time- another world even- both he and Cordelia never once doubted that the pair was of his and Cordelia's flesh and blood.

"We- I-"

Cordelia hushed his dizzying array of thoughts and worries with a gentle running of her fingers through his raven locks.

"When you're ready, love. Only then. The girl's hearts are steeled… and not just from the anticipation of this moment."

Robin could only nod in agreement. Their girls had been through so much, and even then they had refused to tell Robin and Cordelia the full details of just what had happened in their world. Well- Morgan had at least a reasonable excuse…

Yet there had to be something they could do for the girls, something to let them know that they were always welcome here, even after this world's versions of them were born. Solidarity, acceptance, a home away from home.

He had just the idea, but no doubt Chrom and Tiki wouldn't like it...