Author's Note: The boys being dumb, not dumb at all, and everything in between
When Robin felt a sudden weight tackling him from behind, he used its momentum to throw it over and off of his shoulder, as he would on a battlefield to avoid getting grappled.
He frowned in surprise when he saw Chrom fall on the ground in front of him, thumping loud and heavy on his back.
"O-ow…"
The Shepherds marching around them slowed as Robin blinked down at him in confusion.
"Chrom? Why'd you attack me?"
"I wasn't attacking you," Chrom said with a soft groan, trying to lift his head before grimacing and setting it back down. "I just jumped on your back."
"Well, why'd you do that?" Robin pressed, feeling no greater clarity on the matter. "We're not kids." Miriel paused behind the two of them, before stepping around them. She muttered something about inefficient use of energy and distracting the troops.
"That's not—it's just like a mix between a greeting and roughhousing," Chrom tried to explain. "Friends can do it to show excitement."
This didn't jog any memories for Robin, but it did make sense. Looking over at the nearest Shepherd, he saw Maribelle, and began running up to her.
"R-Robin, wait—"
With a grin, Robin tried to hop on her as Chrom had done to him, and before he knew it, he was spinning through the air.
Dull pain rang through his spine as he landed hard on the grass, and he jerked his arms up to protect his face as a parasol began smacking him up and down on his body.
"You…you uncouth, barbaric rapscallion! The nerve," Maribelle huffed, before continuing on her way.
The two of them were now laying a few meters apart on the ground, unmoving as they waited for the pain in their backs to ease.
"...You're not supposed to jump on women, Robin," Chrom advised.
Ricken skittered between them then, pleading with them not to jump on him next as he ran to join the forefront of the group.
Shortly after, Sully marched through them with a snicker. "If you wanted someone to carry ya, Robin, you shoulda asked me."
"...I think it just depends," Robin remarked as she, too, left them behind.
"Couldn't you have at least helped me up before you went and injured yourself?"
White clouds formed friendly shapes, like fluffy dough that was slightly chewed at the edges, as Robin stared up at the sky. "...I suppose."
"You suppose?"
"I was a little too eager to try it out. Sorry," Robin said, before planting his hands on the grass to try and shove himself up. He felt a crick in his back and lowered back down in alarm—it wasn't all that painful, but he was worried that if he got up too quickly, he'd pull something.
"Lissa? Can you heal us? Li-i-issa-a-a?" Chrom called out.
Robin turned his head to give him a sideways glance. "Do you think Lissa excelled at healing because of all the trouble you get yourself in?"
"That's…hm." Chrom frowned at Robin's off-topic comment at first, but seemed to now be fully invested in it. "I know I excelled at getting into scrapes because Emmeryn had to be so responsible all the time." He raised an arm, slotting a hand under his head as he watched the clouds thoughtfully. "I remember wanting to help her, but not knowing how. I started out by doing a lot of menial things that she didn't have the time to do, and took up the sword. I guess fighting and all this other stuff ended up as part of the whole deal, bit by bit. It makes sense that Lissa had felt similarly. Perhaps she took up her staff because it was the only way she felt she could help me."
"Had that thought really not occurred to you?"
"I had a feeling, as I'm sure my sisters did. But we never quite put it into words to this extent." Chrom's head tilted as he regarded Robin a little sadly. "And you…you don't remember having anything like that? Anything like a family?"
"...Still nothing in that regard," Robin said. "But…the Shepherds probably come close, I'd imagine." He offered a small smile as they peeked at each other through the grass. "I'm happy here, anyways."
"Truly?"
"Truly."
It was then that Robin's ears twitched as he heard the shuffle of footsteps nearby. Lissa was standing over them, staff in hand.
"Lissa! You came," Robin said as he looked up at her.
"Our savior," Chrom said with a grin.
She frowned at them, both lying spread-eagled on the ground in the middle of the marching procession while looking strangely ruminative, and asked the appropriate question:
"What the fuck are you two doing?"
"What's your favorite memory you've made thus far?" Chrom had asked Robin as they sat on watch duty one night.
There was a campfire between them.
The rest of the world was dark, distant, and asleep.
"...Perhaps the first meal I shared with you, and Frederick, and Lissa. Some hearty bear meat on an empty stomach, after not even knowing when I'd last eaten…that was a good feeling. I knew for sure, then, that things were going to be okay. I was in good company, and I was being fed, and I would live to see the next morning to decide what I'd want to do next."
"That's…incredible, honestly. I'd been so wrapped up in the mystery and the excitement of the day, but it only makes sense that so many things were running through your mind."
"Yeah…though, to be honest, I can't just pick one favorite memory. But that was one that happened to come to mind." Something cracked inside one of the burning wood logs. "And you? What's your favorite memory?"
"It's hard to say. Perhaps when Frederick and I cheered Lissa up on her birthday some years ago—she was so sad that Emm was unable to attend. Or when I was just a little brat, when Sully and some other friends made me a patchwork cape to wear during our games of pretend. Or Emm reading stories to me when I was even smaller. Or…"
"Or…?"
A lone spark, a red shooting star, leapt from the flames.
"Or meeting you."
It was a few days later when Robin felt a sudden weight on him again during the march, but this time, he didn't fling it off as he stumbled forward.
Chrom was laughing by his ear as his arms were thrown over Robin's shoulders, and Robin nearly began laughing too before he lost his balance entirely.
The earth rose up to meet his face quicker than he could react.
"Urgh…" he grunted. Chrom was even heavier than he looked…
"Are you okay?"
"Can you get off…?" Robin mumbled as his jaw throbbed. He was positive that they must have looked incredibly strange, the way they were piled on the ground right now with Chrom on top of his—
The moment Chrom released his weight, Robin scrambled to his feet and began brushing himself off, trying not to go too red in the face.
The soldiers had already parted around them like a current as they trudged onward, looking rather used to their hijinks by this point.
"Sorry about that. I didn't hurt you, did I?" Chrom asked. He was looking a little red in the face, himself.
"I'm good, if a little disheveled," Robin began to say. He watched as his friend stared at something on his face, grabbing him by the shoulder.
"Hold still a moment," Chrom said, before pulling up the edge of his cape, spitting on the corner before scrubbing it on Robin's cheek as if he were polishing a brass knob.
"I—gross! Chrom, cut it out!" Robin pulled away, swiping at the damp spot on his face with his sleeve.
"You had dirt on you," Chrom said defensively.
"Geez…" Robin didn't even know where to start as he tried to collect himself. "Isn't that cape of yours expensive? I hope you don't use it as a dirt-cleaner on the regular."
"N-no, not that often—"
"Oh my gods, you can't be serious."
"Don't get started on this, too," Chrom said, rolling his eyes a little as he pushed past Robin, starting to walk ahead of him. "You find too many things to nag me about."
"Fine, have it your way," Robin called after him. "Just ignore me. That'll just make it easier for me to get payback for earlier!"
He crossed his arms as he watched Chrom's retreating figure, counting out a few calculated seconds as a sly grin appeared on his face.
He sprinted after him and hopped onto his back, only to blink as Chrom's arms calmly grabbed his legs, anticipating this all along. Chrom then pitched forward and slightly to the side, giving an extra hoist as he slung Robin's midsection over a single shoulder.
"Urk—" Robin's stomach turned for a second as his head hung upside down. Chrom's arm wrapped up to grab Robin's backside as he kept him propped up over his shoulder like a sack of grain. "C-Chrom, put—put me down!" He didn't struggle or squirm too much, out of fear that he'd make them both stagger off-balance, but he still found himself impressed by Chrom's steady hand. He knew he wasn't exactly light, himself…
There was a slight jostle to Robin's head as Chrom began striding, smooth and swift, across the dirt and stones that were packed onto the path, then across patches of wet grass and mounds of moss.
"Where—" Robin fought to push himself up a little, so that he could at least look at where they were going. That was when he saw the pond up ahead. "Hey! You'd better not—Chrom, don't you dare—" He began kicking out and smacked a hand over Chrom's face, trying to cover his eyes—under his palm, he could actually feel the doofus smiling— "I mean it, put me dow—"
He was flung into the air before he could finish that sentence, scandal and betrayal on the tip of his tongue as his eyes went wide.
As Robin spun head under heels, he glimpsed a spray of water droplets in the air, shining like crystal, and Chrom standing upside down, his laughing face beaming in a blue sky.
Even when he was pissed off at him, he was just so—
Splash.
"Robin?" Chrom said dejectedly, hanging his head outside of Robin's tent. "I know I apologized a few times already, but I'll apologize again."
He was met with silence.
"I swear I didn't see the turtle in that pond," he pleaded. "I didn't even know that turtles bit people. I…will you at least stop ignoring me…?"
He perked up, looking a bit more hopeful as he heard some clattering and rustling inside.
Robin's head poked out from the tent blearily. A bandage was still plastered over his left cheekbone from the incident. "Chrom? It's maybe…what, three or four in the morning? Just let it go." He frowned as he thought a bit more. "...Please tell me you haven't been here this whole time."
"No, I just woke up. I couldn't sleep well."
"Well, don't go disturbing my sleep. Try reading a book or something."
"I can't focus on reading right now! Not when you've been giving me the cold shoulder all day."
"Well, I'm not giving you the cold shoulder now, am I?" As they stared at each other, a slight smile twitched across Chrom's mouth. Robin's hand fidgeted a little over his bandage in embarrassment. "So uh...you can go to sleep now."
"Very well, but…are you still mad at me?"
There was an extended pause as Robin studied him calmly. Eventually, he gave his definitive answer.
"...Yes. Goodnight," he said, ducking his head back inside.
It was Robin's turn to ask something.
"What's the loneliest you've ever felt?"
"I don't think I have a single answer, again. Throughout my youth, there were many times."
"Really?"
"Of course. Emm had to step up to raise me and Lissa, and she had to step up to more or less raise the entire kingdom. And she strived to be enough in every way, but of course she couldn't spend as much time with us as we wanted. And…my elevated role made me feel a little distanced from the others, at least at first. Gods, the first time I had to fight in a real battle and see real bloodshed—what a mess that all was. And the first time I ended up taking a life? I couldn't sleep at all. I felt like I was drowning every night. Everyone was seeking me out for strength and leadership, but no one except my sisters asked how I was actually doing back then. People scarcely assumed that I could feel as down or pessimistic as them on some days. But that's how they would act towards Lissa or Emmeryn, too. I suppose the biggest thing we share in common is that we try to cheer up those around us, in our own different ways, but that means we seldom get worried after in return. But…that's part of why I'm so glad you're here. I'm glad I can talk to you about these things. Frederick, as well. I still want to keep the rest of my troops feeling confident and safe in my leadership, but I'm grateful to have some comrades I can confide in. I don't want to go back to feeling as though…every fear of mine is invisible. And…what? What is it?"
"Nothing, just…I have a hard time imagining you doing anything other than wearing your heart on your sleeve."
"Is that supposed to be a comment at my expense?"
"No, not at all! In many ways, I'm glad for your…recklessness, for lack of a better term. It's part of what makes you yourself."
"What about you, Robin?"
"Sometimes I wake up feeling lonely. I'm not sure if it's some dreams that I have that I end up forgetting. Other than that…well, I know what the feeling is like. I'm sure I must have felt like that plenty of times in my past. But of the memories I currently have, I really don't have any lonely ones. Not since I first woke up in that field."
"None?"
A smile. "None."
It was a summer's evening that began as so many evenings often did. With a question.
"Robin? What are you doing?" Chrom asked, ever curious, ever wanting to know.
Robin was holding a Thunder tome clutched to his chest as he sat some ways away from where the others were gathered. He was sitting cross-legged and facing the woods nearby, tiny electrical sparks dancing from his fingertip in the darkness.
"Just give it a minute. Watch," he said with a smile.
With a shrug, Chrom sat himself cross-legged at Robin's side, waiting.
In moments, a small floating light appeared by Robin's face, answering his little flashes with ones of its own. A firefly gathered curiously near, then another, until several were dancing around his head, pulses of gold light brushing softly across his cheeks and shining eyes.
They turned to look at each other.
The smile on Robin's face was something far better than perfect, one of discovery and pure joy. The smile on Chrom's face was semi-parted and a little stunned, but it traveled to the rest of him, making his whole body warm.
With a small laugh, Robin extended a finger and pointed it right to the tip of Chrom's nose, continuing his pattern of sparks.
Chrom felt a slight current jolt through his skin with each flash of light, like a heartbeat.
A firefly landed right on his nose, and Robin began laughing in earnest.
Chrom huffed a breathless laugh himself.
As he stared back at Robin all aglow, the electricity running through him set his hairs on end, like they were stretching out to the sky.
"Isn't it too dark to read properly?"
"I can make out the words enough."
"Just what is it you're reading so intently?"
"Some philosopher's writing. I think the point she's making is how, if time can be considered a dimension of its own—oh, uh…let me give some context. So, think of a flat piece of paper. A rectangle, right? Practically a two-dimensional object to the average person—it's got a width and a length. Then imagine a stack of papers, filling up a box-shape. Now there's three dimensions discernible, a depth that's added. But what if the stack of papers isn't made up of different papers at all, but it's made up of that single piece of paper from before, just being dropped to the floor? Like all the different versions of it through time could be present simultaneously as it falls? …I don't know if I'm explaining this properly at all…"
"No, no, I think I get what you're saying. You're saying time can be imagined akin to dimensions like depth or width, in a theoretical way."
"Right. Or rather, it is so, not even with us having to imagine—the only difference being that, unlike space, we can't travel through time in any direction we please. That's what a lot of scholars say. At any rate, this philosopher, she's saying that if that's true, then everyone's lives, fates, and deaths are all set in stone. It's all predetermined, not because of stars or anything like that, but because of how time itself works."
"Bleak stuff. …And strange to think about."
"Right? With all the fighting we do, this book has been making me think a lot about the lives we see end before us. About how maybe no one disappears completely, but that the birth and the death of a person, written in time, are like the measurements of how much space their life takes up."
"That's a bit beautiful, if also a bit sad, in its own way. Have you ever thought about writing a book of your own?"
"Very funny."
"I mean it!"
"But you know, I was thinking about the bright side of all of this. Think about us now, talking right here at this campfire. This isn't something that's going to disappear, right? This is always going to be here. We won't be able to come back to this night, but it happened, and it's happening, and it takes up a space of its own, like a piece of paper, or a box."
"...That's right."
"When I think of it that way, it makes things feel easier. Like it wouldn't be as bad if fate told me I were to die tomorrow of a nosebleed, or abandoned in a ditch ten years from now."
"Don't talk like that, Robin. That's not going to happen."
"I know, I know, I'm just saying hypothetically."
"...Now that we're on this topic…what do you think about the idea of eternity? In general. As a concept."
"I'm…not sure what you mean, exactly, but…no, I think I sort of get it. I guess that's how I feel when I think of what the word 'eternity' really means—like I don't understand it, while still being able to describe it, or respond to it. We have a word and a definition for the idea, but all the same, it's beyond any human understanding."
"Well…maybe what you're talking about is how we can start to understand."
"Oh? How so?"
"Maybe forever is in the little things like this. The things that you say won't ever disappear."
"Like talking over a campfire?"
"Like talking over a campfire."
War came fast. And soon.
As if to say that nothing good was meant to last.
A part of Robin wondered if he'd been irresponsible in all this.
If he'd been too lucky, right after losing his memories.
If he'd taken it all for granted.
Laughed a little too much.
Made his new friends a little too quickly.
Felt this happy for just a little too long.
When he thought back to his campfire conversations with Chrom, to the comforts he felt as he talked about abstract things like eternity, he realized he couldn't afford to think like that anymore.
Because talking about life, death, and time slipping past was different from how those things felt. And how it felt, at least in the moment, was what seemed to matter.
Maybe he couldn't afford those silly talks, or those feelings of comfort. Not about time, or the finite space that a person's life occupies in it.
Not when there's not enough of either.
War came fast. And soon.
Just days before, Robin felt as if he and Chrom were on the top of the world.
Days before, he felt as though, so long as they continued on as they were, they could keep on making the world a better place in their own way. Like they couldn't be stopped.
He felt as though they had more time to remain like this, two friends and two meddlers, righting the kingdom's troubles little by little.
Two meddlers and two friends, growing closer little by little.
He thought that they had so much time for those little things.
Time was funny that way.
Things like the flap of a wing, the flight of an arrow, the fall of a body, could sometimes seem so slow, each fraction of a second painful, everything seeming to last far too long.
Until, all of a sudden, it's all over. And everything is gone.
He really thought that they had so much more time.
"Chrom," Robin said outside of Chrom's tent.
Crickets chirped, hidden and out of sight among the blades of grass. It had finished raining a while ago, and just the slightest tinges of mist and moisture remained in the night air.
Eventually, Chrom's voice replied.
"Robin."
There was no greeting, no invitation, but Robin lifted the flap and entered.
It was dark. No candles were lit.
Chrom was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the soaked ground, not having even bothered to unroll the tarp or bedroll underneath. His back was turned as he stared blankly ahead.
Without hesitation, Robin stepped forward, until he could walk in front of Chrom and crouch down to try and look him in the eyes.
The scent of rain-soaked mud and blood still emanated from his clothes, which seemed to be halfheartedly loosened, as if he'd started trying to change and lost the ability to continue.
Mere hours ago, Chrom had hardened his face into something that looked strong, if anguished, as he commanded their troops. Now, in privacy, even just the shape of him in the dark looked weary. Lost.
His head didn't turn away from Robin's gaze, but he shrugged his shoulders.
"...What is there to say?"
"Nothing, perhaps," Robin said. "I'm not here to speak with you. There is nothing I would demand from you. Not now."
"So you've come to check on me?" As Robin's eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could make out something in the shape of a smile, joyless but still soft at the edges, on Chrom's tired face. "It's appreciated."
Robin paused, before falling to his knees. He gripped the back of Chrom's shoulders and brought him close. With no resistance, Chrom moved with him, until his forehead was resting in the crook of Robin's shoulder. His hands floated up to grip at the hem of Robin's robe.
And as he buried his face deep within the folds of Robin's clothes, Robin could feel him start to shake. His breaths, once inaudible, grew loud and uneven.
Robin gripped him more tightly. Chrom shook more.
"Chrom," Robin said, head bowing, "I'm here."
"Ro—" The hint of a voice wavered from Chrom's lips, but it failed. A loud sob racked into Robin's chest, and Robin grabbed the back of Chrom's head, shutting his eyes. "I saw her—" Chrom's voice was utterly transformed, torn down and raw, splitting apart from the unbearable weight of it all. "I saw her—but it wasn't her. She was broken. Her body was right there—right in front of me, but she was gone—she's gone."
No other words came from either of them. Chrom continued to weep, and Robin continued to hold him, not once letting go, feeling every sob pierce and echo through him as if he were hollow.
Their shared mourning was swallowed by the minutes, and then by the hours.
Eventually, Chrom stilled and quieted as he exhausted his tears, but the heavy wound he carried could still be felt with every breath, within the weariness of his shoulders.
They remained there, neither parting, neither moving unless it was to grip at the other more tightly.
Robin didn't know exactly when he'd drifted off, but when he nodded back awake, it was still dark. His neck and knees hurt terribly from how they had remained bent this whole time, but he ignored them as he gazed down at the shadow of Chrom's head resting in his lap.
He imagined that Chrom must have fallen asleep as well, but he couldn't be sure of when that was—nor was he certain if Chrom had woken up moments before him, or only just now, as he felt a hand stir on his knee, before thumbing over it softly.
"Go back to your tent. Rest." Chrom's voice was dry and soft in the darkness.
Robin shook his head. "I won't leave you."
He heard a bit of a sigh, a bit of a strange, sad smile in Chrom's voice.
"I truly hope that you won't."
And he knew they were talking about two different things.
Chrom shifted, then lifted himself away from Robin. He stepped to the tent flap and held it open, and Robin got up and left, knowing there was no use in arguing.
As he stepped through the encampment in starlight and darkness, he could feel Chrom's presence behind him, like a cloud of painful things—things that Robin wished to feel in his stead, things that he wished to give to him, things that he wished to take away.
That cloud grew further and further away with every step. Before he knew it, he was back in his own tent, in his own head, in numb silence, too far from Chrom to feel those echoes of pain any longer.
Without them, Robin felt incredibly empty.
"I'll check over these plans one more time. Run them by Cordelia and Frederick. Then..."
"You've had these plans quadruple-checked. They're sound, Robin," Chrom said. And, for the thousandth time, even though he knew it was futile, he said, "Rest."
The orange sun blazed over the horizon.
There were dark shadows beneath Robin's eyes. Chrom wanted to reach out and touch his fingertips to them.
Robin shook his head as he rolled up his papers, gathering the scrolls into his arms.
"There's always something that I'm missing," was all he muttered in reply, as he retreated to his tent.
When Chrom came to Robin's tent that same night, to check in and argue Robin into sleeping if need be, he was met with the slouch of Robin's back in the dwindling candlelight. Robin's head was penitently bowed onto his worktable, his crumpled arms spread across its surface.
His eyes were closed. His shoulders rose and fell slowly.
Chrom smiled, the perpetual wound in his chest easing as he felt a bit of comfort at the familiar sight. He moved closer with the intention of taking Robin in his arms and depositing him in his bedroll like so many times before, but drifted to a standstill as he saw what was spread out on the table.
It was a map that Chrom had seen before.
On its surface, he recognized the symbol that Robin used for Phila, and the smaller variants of it that indicated her pegasus knights. And he recognized the symbol of the Ylissean crown, atop a sketch of an edifice that, too, was all too familiar.
Robin's hands were covered in blotches of dried ink.
Parts of the parchment were slightly wrinkled and warped, from the countless retracings of a fingertip.
Carefully, Chrom began rolling up the map. He clutched the tall scroll it made in his hand, like a heavy blade.
His other hand drifted to rest on top of Robin's head.
"Robin," he murmured gently.
Robin's eyes barely opened.
"Chrom…?"
"I'm going to take this away. This isn't yours anymore," Chrom said softly, tilting the scroll lower so that Robin could see. "So rest, now. Okay?"
He knew that Robin was far too exhausted to argue. He knew that Robin knew, too.
Robin's head shifted down in a faint nod, before his eyes fell closed again.
Chrom remained there a moment longer, before slipping his hand away from Robin's hair, and leaving the way he came.