Author's Note: Well, okay, for some reason I can't seem to pull out chapters as quickly as I used to before. Might be due to my illness, but I was also admittedly rather busy during the last month.
Anyways, I won't bore you with too many details about my personal life, I doubt most of you don't really care for it, but there's just one important bit I want to mention below.
IMPORTANT! - "Marth" is now referred to as "Lucina" in all scenes where she is the focus character (i.e. she is the main perspective from which the story is being told). All scenes in previous chapters have been edited to reflect this change. However, all scenes where other characters are the focus characters (Chrom, Robin) will still have her be referred to as "Marth".
As usual, thoughts, feedback, questions, clarifications, and discussions are welcomed in reviews, with further follow-ups to be done through PMs once I reply.
Once again, thank you for your patience and support, and do enjoy this chapter, which is mostly original content not present in the game. Naga be with you!
Chapter Five – A Night of Trust
Location: Khan's Palace, West Wing
Lucina blew out a breath as she sank into a seat, finally able to release some of the tension in her body now that she was alone and away from prying eyes… or, to be more specific, away from a certain pair of quiet, hazel eyes which seemed able to see right through her mask and into her soul, and which had seen entirely through her actions at the latter half of her duel with Chrom and even through her attempt at masquerading as a young male.
Frightened by the idea that she might very well be compromised if she remained around the Shepherds' tactician, she'd beaten a hasty retreat back to the quarters Khan Basilio had graciously provided for her. Granted, she hadn't consciously gone to her quarters – as flustered as she'd been at the time, any location would have been acceptable so long as she could have escaped the tactician's sharp, questioning eyes – but the assured privacy would certainly be welcome while she tried to bring her frayed emotions back under control.
She tried her best not to show it, but the snow-haired tactician's gentle demeanor only served to further disquiet her and remove what little semblance of control she still had over her frayed emotions. She knew his eyes had been on her ever since their first meeting back in that forest in Southern Ylisse, and at every encounter since then. No matter what she did, she could only feel as if those hazel eyes were unraveling her more and more with every chance meeting.
Unclasping her butterfly-shaped mask and removing it from her face, Lucina's fingers roamed over the smooth metal of her one saving grace, tracing every ridge and gilded design as she admired the care and craftsmanship that had gone into its creation. She wavered when her fingers ran over where Chrom's dried blood still stained her mask's deep blue metal, and she swallowed against the bile that was threatening to rise against her throat.
Lucina had considered washing the blood off, but, after some thought, decided to keep the stains as a reminder of her shortcomings – that this would be the result of her actions should her inability to control her emotions rear its head in the future. Lucina knew that she had to live with this mark of shame and learn from this if she wanted to succeed in her mission.
'… If only it were so easy…' Lucina thought as she continued to gaze at the bloodstain. 'Leon…'
"Am I truly… so weak…?" she whispered to herself. "Can I really do nothing… if I don't have you with me…?"
The young girl gazed intently at the mask in her hand, wondering how something so small could feel as if it held all the weight of the world. She never really felt the mask's weight when she had it covering her face, but, now that she had taken it off and held it in her hands, it felt infinitely heavier, almost as if it had taken on the weight of all of her burdens.
'It's not just hiding my identity… maybe… it's just a way for me to hide my own weakness…'
Lucina let out a breath, a sudden exhaustion settling on her body like a leaden weight along with the sobering thought. She tried to fight against it – she'd functioned with the barest minimum of sleep before, so why was she unable to do so now? – tried not to acknowledge the exhaustion that had crept up on her after weeks of minimal, restless sleep, but in those few moments that couldn't have been any more than a few seconds, yet felt like an eternity to her exhaustion-addled mind, she found her control slipping, her consciousness ebbing away towards the inviting lure of sleep.
Everything around Lucina was a fuzzy blur; she was tired enough that she was barely able to recognize anything beyond her body's burning need for rest. Her mind briefly seemed to scream something about needing to keep her guard up – that she had no allies she could trust right now – but the haze surrounding her mind had already settled, disallowing any sort of coherent thought to form and leaving her easy prey to the call of her body's needs.
"Can't… e-even… for just… a moment…" she slurred tiredly, instinctively recognizing what her mind had been trying to say and repeating it to herself as a mantra, but even to her own ears she seemed most unconvincing as her words were devoid of any strength or conviction. The decision to give into her pursuer had already been made long before she'd tried to resist.
The mask slipped from nerveless fingers as the cerulean-haired girl's eyes slowly drooped closed, her consciousness surrendering itself to sweet, temporary oblivion before the metal accessory that had become her sanctuary could even hit the ground.
Robin walked quickly through the halls of the Khan's Palace, already wondering what he'd say to Marth if she was indeed still here in Arena Ferox. He'd managed to slip out unnoticed from the party with Basilio's aid, something the tactician was grateful for as he'd rather avoid answering questions about where he was going.
'Even if some of them are more than a little drunk…'
That said, the snow-haired tactician had been surprised that the West-Khan was generous enough to provide him with all this help in addition to what he'd quickly realized were very specific directions to Marth's quarters. The Khan had even given him a guide to ensure he wouldn't be stopped by anyone on his way to his destination.
When questioned as to why he was being so helpful, Basilio had simply laughed it off.
"Lad, you're party to visiting royalty. It's only right I also be a good host to those the boy has brought along with him," he said, jerking his head in Chrom's direction at the mention of 'boy'. "That… and I'm rather curious about Marth, myself. I've lived a fairly long time – an old man like me can't resist being just a little bit inquisitive about things or people I've next to no idea about."
Basilio then grinned. "Besides, you look like the sort to get an idea in his head and see it through no matter what!" he said. "Best to see how it plays out, if you ask me. The boy's told me you've not led him and his bunch of misfits astray just yet, so I'd like to see for myself where you and your crazy ideas might take us!"
The West-Khan had laughed boisterously after that before sending the tactician on his way.
Robin smiled; the West-Khan was the type of unorthodox leader that he couldn't help but appreciate and like. It wasn't often that people in the larger man's position were able to hold so true to their personalities in spite of the pressures that their station placed on their shoulders.
'I wonder if I'd change if I ever had to be a leader in charge of so many other lives…'
Robin shook his head. Now wasn't the time to get funny ideas of glory or grandeur; he'd cross that bridge when he got there – if he ever got there.
He turned his attention to his guide, a stern-faced man of fair complexion and messy dark hair who seemed to perpetually be on his guard. Robin failed to recognize the clearly foreign – and by foreign he meant non-Feroxi – design on the other man's blue robe, but the leather armor on the man's shoulders and the fur lining his robe's sleeves and the tops of his leather boots were standard Feroxi fare. What really had the tactician's attention, however, was the unusual sword hanging on the man's belt – a slim, curved blade, if its scabbard was anything to go by.
'He certainly doesn't seem like a Feroxi… and he's not exactly what I'd expect of a Ylissean or Plegian, either…'
"Is there a problem?" the man asked gruffly without turning to look back at the tactician following him, his voice cutting into the tactician's thoughts.
Robin almost jumped into the air, not having expected the sudden question from out of nowhere. The man's voice was deep and a little rough, and it took Robin a moment to realize it was actually the first time he'd heard him speak the entire walk.
"N-no," he replied. "Nothing's wrong."
The other man scoffed. "Hmph. You've been staring at my back for a while." He turned to glare at Robin out of the corner of one eye. "Looking for an opportunity to kill me, perhaps?"
Robin frowned. "I wouldn't dream of it," he replied. "I'm just… curious about your coat and your sword. They're not like anything else I've seen."
The swordsman's frown deepened, if that was even possible, as he simply continued to glare at the snow-haired tactician. After a moment or two where the dark-haired man looked to be contemplating the tactician's untimely demise, he simply turned and began walking again. Robin, stunned at the development, could only watch stupidly as his guide left him behind.
After a few steps, the man noticed that his charge wasn't following him and turned back.
"Are you coming or not?" he asked impatiently, again snapping Robin out of his stupor.
"Ah, s-sorry!" the tactician replied in apology, quickly jogging to catch up to the swordsman.
Robin couldn't help but cringe internally. The other man's intensity was simply terrifying and awe-inspiring all at once. When paired with the fact he remained silent more often than not, it made him a rather intimidating figure – more intimidating than even Basilio, though Robin surmised that Basilio could be equally as terrifying when the man decided to drop all his joviality and thirst for life.
The pair simply continued to walk through the halls, their echoing footsteps the only sounds to be heard until Robin's guide spoke up again.
"They're from my homeland – a nation in the continent to the West," the swordsman said out of the blue.
Robin held a slightly confused expression for a brief moment, before realization dawned on him that the swordsman was humoring his curiosity. Before he could say anything else, though, the swordsman glanced sharply his way.
"That's all I'm going to say, so you can save whatever you were about to say next," the swordsman added. "I'm here to do as I was ordered, not to partake in idle chit-chat."
Robin's mouth snapped shut, and he followed along lest he anger the swordsman serving as his guide.
He would have been content to remain silent, but a thought that occurred to him kept him from holding his tongue. "I'm amazed you're not the least bit curious about anything."
"I only need to do as the West-Khan orders," the swordsman replied curtly. "You can spare me the details of your rendezvous. I care not for them."
The tactician barely managed to keep his dignity and not splutter outright at the other man's reply.
'Rendezvous?! What the hell does he think I'm trying to do here?!'
In spite of his embarrassment, Robin quickly realized that anything he said wouldn't do much, as the swordsman clearly had no desire to engage in any form of conversation. Sighing inaudibly, the tactician contented himself to follow the swordsman in silence, observing his surroundings while mentally mapping out their route in his head and ensuring that it matched Basilio's directions.
Robin was so absorbed in what he was doing that he very nearly bumped into the swordsman when the latter halted without warning. Looking around the swordsman, Robin found that he'd been led into an apartment complex in the residential wing of the palace.
"Straight ahead," the man said. "Third door on the left. You'll find your quarry there."
Robin sighed. "For the last time, Marth isn't – look, you know what? Never mind. You can think what you… like…"
The tactician trailed off as he realized the man was already walking away without another word, clearly not interested in whatever happened or whatever else Robin might have had to say.
'Well, thanks for the help, I guess.'
Shaking his head as he turned, Robin decided it would be better if he didn't let the swordsman's personality bother him. He couldn't afford to be distracted by something like that if he was going to try and get Marth to open up to him.
As Robin walked up to the door that the swordsman had pointed out, he grew a little apprehensive as he imagined the different ways the scenario could play out.
Would Marth hear him out? Or was he going to just get booted out without even being able to get a word in? Hell, would Marth even draw her sword and try to kill him?
For that matter, was Marth even there?
Robin sighed and shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, before fixing his gaze on the door before him. It loomed over the tactician, a seemingly-harmless construct of wooden planks and metal bars that seemed much larger than it really should have been.
'Look at yourself, Robin. You're already worked up just because your imagination's running wild.'
Robin raised a hand, knocking twice on the hard wood.
"Marth! Are you there?"
Silence answered him, making Robin wonder if the masked girl was even here.
"Marth? Could I have a word, if you're there?" he called out again, still getting no reply.
Robin reared his hand back to repeat the motion, but he froze mid-knock as his ears picked up what appeared to be murmurs from inside the room.
'What…?'
Curious and wondering if he'd simply been imagining things, Robin leaned in close and pressed the side of his head to the door to try and hear better. It was silent for a moment, his breathing the only sound that could be heard, but then the murmurs started again.
"No… I-I'm not… yours… please… h-help me…"
Robin frowned at the broken phrases he could hear through the heavy wood.
'That… sounds like Marth… but…'
The voice that he could hear from the other side of the door was Marth's murmurs – simply comparing it to the times he remembered the masked girl speaking to them would let him know that it was hers, even if she'd been changing her tone to sound more masculine – but it was decidedly more feminine-sounding than he'd ever remembered it, with a distinctly higher pitch and a softer quality to it that made him realize that the masked swordswoman was more delicate than her near-inhuman fighting ability let on.
Robin tried knocking on the door once again, but for whatever reason Marth seemed unable to hear the sound. Furrowing his brow, the tactician gave the door a push, testing to see if it was unlocked.
To his great surprise, the door gave slightly, opening just the tiniest crack.
'She didn't lock it…'
Mind racing for an explanation as to why the secretive Marth would have forgotten something as obvious as locking the door, Robin nevertheless decided that trying to figure out the reason for her odd behavior could wait. As it is, there were just too many unanswered questions that he needed to resolve right now.
Steeling himself, the tactician pushed the door open, quickly slipping in and shutting it behind him. Looking around, Robin found himself in a medium-sized, well-furnished room that was not dissimilar to the one that Khan Flavia had set him up in – a fairly sizeable bed, a desk for writing, a shelf for keeping belongings, and a lit brazier for light and warmth. The curtains covering the solitary window fluttered lightly from the evening breeze, and Robin nearly made to close it before he heard more murmurs coming from his right.
Turning, Robin spotted what – or rather who – he was looking for when he'd come here. Marth was slumped in a chair, clearly having fallen asleep for one reason or another. However, more importantly, she wasn't wearing her mask, allowing Robin to actually see her face in its entirety for the first time.
'She's… beautiful…' Robin found himself thinking as he took in the sight of Marth's sleeping face. Her features were soft, delicate, and youthful, and now that she was unmasked it had become painfully obvious to the snow-haired tactician just how young the unmasked swordswoman really was – she was barely into her adolescence, the tenderness of her youth exemplified by the innocence of her sleeping expression now that it was devoid of her usual frown.
Even the welt on her cheek from where Chrom had struck her during the duel did nothing to detract from the youthfulness and beauty of her features.
However, while Marth's frown was absent, a grimace did warp her features quite often, and every time it did Robin could only imagine what she was seeing in her dreams. Judging by her expression, though, her dreams were anything but peaceful or comfortable.
'She's probably suffering from nightmares, more like…' Robin thought to himself, instantly sympathizing with her plight given his own nightly terrors. Seeing the dark rings beneath her closed eyes standing out against her pallid countenance that he quickly realized was far too pale to be natural made him even begin to wonder how often she was able to get a decent night's sleep – if she even got it at all. Everything just pointed to what he was seeing now as being the norm rather than the exception.
'Poor girl…'
The cerulean-haired girl began to shift uncomfortably, her brow furrowing as her expression became more agitated. Robin winced, already beginning to consider trying to wake her from the images that were haunting her in her sleep.
"N-no… don't… s-stay away… s-stop…!" she whispered, tears pooling at the corners of her eyes and wetting her lashes. The sight of Marth's tears and her clear mental and emotional discomfort quickly erased what little doubts Robin was still harboring within him.
He couldn't listen to another word said in such a fearful, desperate tone of voice. He couldn't allow himself to simply stand here while she continued to suffer in her nightmares.
After a moment's hesitation in which he briefly wondered whether he really should be doing this or not, Robin reached out for Marth with a gloved hand.
Lucina ran. She had no idea where she was going, but she ran. The girl made her way through the twists and turns of the serpentine labyrinth, not knowing where she was going but knowing that her very life depended on her ability to sustain her forward motion. Darkness swamped her surroundings, tendrils looking almost as if they were trying to reach for her as she fled. Her eyes barely made out her surroundings through the darkness that clouded her vision like a heavy miasma, her only source of light being the few torches that dimly illuminated a path for her to follow.
The cerulean-haired girl's heart pounded against her rib cage, almost feeling like the war drums of an army in her chest and ears as she willed her burning limbs to continue moving even as they screamed in protest. The walls seemed to close in on her from every direction, suffocating her and making it even harder to breathe than it already was.
Lucina risked a look back over her shoulder as she ran, her eyes wild and panicked as she sought out what she could not see but which she knew for certain was there. The torches were extinguished as she passed them by, swallowed up by the encroaching darkness that consumed everything in its pursuit of the cerulean-haired girl.
If she couldn't keep running, it would take her, too, and…
Mocking laughter echoed all around the cerulean-haired girl, making her heart pump painfully as her expression quickly morphed into one of fear.
'You're already mine, dear heart,' the voice said. 'You just don't know it.'
"No, I'm not yours!" she yelled back to the darkness surrounding her as she ran.
The voice followed after Lucina, furthering its mockery of the cerulean-haired girl who clearly had no proper defense against this mental assault. She shut her eyes tight, trying to rid herself of the mental images that were being dredged up from the darkest recesses of her memories – memories she'd much rather forget.
Lucina's momentary lack of focus proved to be her undoing.
With her eyes shut, she was unable to see a slightly upraised corner of tile that had been sticking out of the ground and tripped over it, sending her sprawling painfully to the ground.
The voice laughed again, delighting in its prey's weakness as the cerulean-haired girl struggled to her hands and knees.
Turning, she saw a pair of otherworldly golden irises glowing in the middle of the dark shroud of miasma, a wicked smile of teeth opening up beneath the pair of glowing orbs.
"Nowhere to run… nowhere to hide…" the voice said as the dark figure approached, stalking its prey.
Lucin shook her head as she backed away in fear.
"P-please… Leon, help me…"
The figure stepped out from the cloud of miasma, revealing the form of the one being she wished she'd never see ever again.
"No… don't…"
The darkness seized her by her arms and legs, holding her in place and preventing her from retreating any further.
"S-stay away…"
Lucina shook her head as her tormentor drew closer, getting down onto all fours and making its way over her prone, helpless form.
"S-STOP! I SAID STAY AWAY!"
The shadowy apparition reached for her with a clawed hand, and Lucina did the only thing she could do.
She closed her eyes, and screamed in pure, unbridled fear.
"Iyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" Lucina awoke with a bloodcurdling scream, eyes looking about wildly for the person – no, the demon – that haunted her nightmares. She flinched at every shadow in the room, almost imagining those golden irises and that wicked smile peeking out from every dark nook and cranny. She was so utterly consumed by the imagined thought of her worst fears actually being realized that she hadn't even noticed the person with a hand on her shoulder until they began speaking.
"Hey, hey! Calm down!" the person's vaguely familiar voice said as Lucina continued to lash out in panic, striking him – and she could recognize the voice as male even in her current state – several times in her panic. "Just hold on for a moment!"
"How can I be calm?!" she screamed back, pushing the other person away with a forceful shove as some of her tears began to fly with her wild movements. "She's here! If she finds me, she'll… she'll…!"
Before she could even finish her sentence, Lucina suddenly found her shoulders held in a firm but gentle grip as the young man pulled her into an embrace, their arms now fully encircling her shoulders to prevent her from making any more wild movements even as she struggled mightily against their grip.
"Let me go!" she said, trying to muster what little strength she had to free herself. "I can't stay here! She–!"
"Damn it, just calm down, Marth!" the other person said forcefully, his sharp words cutting through the fear that had been clouding Lucina's thoughts.
Lucina stilled as the nightmare finally lost its grip on her, the shock from the young man's forceful words dispelling the hold that her irrational fears had on her mind. Without the energy brought about by panic to fuel her wild movements, she collapsed almost lifelessly into the hold the other person had on her.
'I-It was all a dream…' Lucina thought tiredly as the darkness receded from her mind, allowing her to gain a sense of rationality and take those first few steps back towards bringing her wildly raging emotions back under control. 'It was only a dream… a nightmare…'
Lucina repeated the thoughts to herself a few times, trying to find some assurance that it really was the truth and she'd simply been imagining everything. Glancing upwards with what strength she could muster, she found herself greeted by the familiar facial features and snow-white hair of the Shepherds' enigmatic tactician.
'Sir… Sir Robin…'
"You're alright, you're safe," he whispered, his voice much more gentle this time. "No one's going to hurt you, I promise."
Each whispered word sent a tiny little vibration through his chest that the stricken girl could feel through the soft material of his shirt. She couldn't help but find the sensation comforting. It made her want to believe in what he was saying – that she truly was safe here.
"I… I am…?" she asked softly, her voice so small… it sounded almost fragile, even to herself, and again she cursed her weakness even as the voice residing in the shadows of her mind began to mock her once again. Lucina could only close her eyes in response as she took a fistful of Robin's shirt in her hand.
"Mm…" Robin hummed gently. "You are."
The words struck a nerve within her, and she could feel the tears forcing their way out from her eyes once again.
"Thank you…" she whispered tiredly as tears began to fall from her eyes and quiet sobs began to escape her lips. "I'm… I'm sorry if I… might have harmed you earlier, Sir Tactician…"
The tactician gave her a small squeeze. "It's fine. I've had worse," he replied, chuckling lightly to himself. "Besides, I just couldn't leave you like that. It was worth the risk, I think."
Despite herself, Lucina couldn't help but choke out a laugh in between her sobs as a sudden emotional exhaustion washed over her. With all the manic energy from her earlier hysteria completely gone along with her darkest fears, she could only lean against the soft cotton shirt and surprisingly firm chest of the tactician who continued to hold her close, her body wracked with pathetic sobs that she tried and failed miserably to stop.
She couldn't help but appreciate Robin's kindness, even if she was surprised by that very same behaviour when she compared it to what she had come to expect from the white-haired tactician. Then again, many of her memories about him came from what she would witness when he was hard at work.
'… And when he confronted me over today's match…'
"Are you alright?" Robin asked gently, bringing Lucina back from her thoughts. The girl idly noted the large patches of wetness that now stained the tactician's shirt. If he was bothered any that his shirt – and likely him, as well – was now soaked with Lucina's tears, he was doing an incredible job of hiding it.
Lucina drew back slightly, using her hands as support, and turned her gaze upwards, her teary cerulean eyes meeting Robin's calm hazel – almost gold, really. She sensed his bewilderment, and she regarded him as steadily as she could, almost daring him to comment on her unsightly display of emotion.
For whatever reason, he chose not to comment, instead repeating his question. "Are you alright, Marth?" he asked again.
Lucina nodded. "I… I think I'm better now… t-thank you…" she answered, almost cursing the stutter in her voice. "I'm sorry you had to see that."
Robin smiled tightly. "Don't worry abou- oh…"
Lucina could only watch as Robin's expression went through several emotions – shock, surprise, and confusion, to name a few – before settling on wide-eyed realization. The cerulean-haired girl had been about to ask what had the tactician so gobsmacked that he couldn't even finish his earlier statement, but before she could even part her lips to begin asking the question, she'd already gleaned the answer from where the gaze of those piercing hazel eyes was directed.
Robin was staring directly at her own eyes – her uncovered eyes, she quickly realized with growing horror.
He'd seen it; he'd seen the brand in her left eye.
He'd seen the Mark of Naga she'd so desperately been trying to hide.
Lucina suddenly felt instinct kick in as panic took over her mind for what had to be at least the third time that day.
Using Robin's surprise as an opportunity to push him away, Lucina quickly picked up Falchion from where it was leaning against the wall next to her and dove over the room's solitary bed, coming up in a crouch with her sword already unsheathed and pointed at the tactician.
"Hey, let's calm down here!" Robin said, hands raised in what he seemed to be hoping was a placating manner. "I'm not your enemy."
Lucina narrowed her eyes. "How can I be sure I can even trust you?!" she shot back, making the tactician flinch slightly. It was a fair question. How could she trust anyone, really?
"… I can't," he replied after a brief pause, before he regarded Lucina steadily. "But I think that my intentions were always clear – I just want to talk. If I'd wanted you dead, I would have – and could have – easily done the deed while you were still asleep."
The cerulean-haired girl frowned, the seeds of doubt planting themselves firmly in her mind. She couldn't deny either of the facts the tactician had just brought up, but what was affecting her more than his words was the honesty in them.
He held his hand out towards her. "Please. I don't mean you any harm, Marth. Just put the sword down."
Lucina swallowed thickly, but refused to lower her blade. Her mind was a flurry of activity as she took in Robin's words, her hand tightening its grip around the hilt of Falchion as she struggled with herself.
'Should I trust him…? Can I trust him?'
"Peace, Marth. I just want to talk," Robin repeated, inching closer, hands still held away from his body. The tactician was just outside of her reach. One lightning-quick lunge forward and she could pierce his heart before he could so much as react.
'I… I can't trust anyone… but why? Why do I want to trust him…?'
Lucina shook her head, her sword beginning to waver as her hand trembled. She couldn't trust her own judgement anymore. She didn't know what was right, what was wrong, what she wanted to do, and what she should do.
Robin was within arm's reach now, having moved past Falchion's tip. Lucina shut her eyes tight, frozen in place as she was. Her mind blanked. She had no idea how to react.
'Leon… what should I do…?'
The cerulean-haired girl felt the tactician's gloved hand softly wrap itself around her own, and she stiffened at the contact for a moment. Her hand was shaking almost uncontrollably now, and no matter how she tried it just wouldn't stop trembling.
"Easy there… " he whispered gently, his voice once again washing over her like the ocean waves at the shoreline and soothing her frantic nerves. "Just lower your sword, Marth. It's alright. Just trust me. Please."
Lucina shook her head. "I…"
'I can't,' she wanted to say, but she knew that wasn't true in the slightest. It was simply her paranoia talking, because she'd repeated to herself time and time again that she shouldn't change the past beyond what was truly necessary for the coming disaster to be averted.
However… it was getting to be too difficult for her. Even if doing what she was about to do went against what might have been her own better sense of judgement, Lucina knew that she was no longer able to handle the strain of the burden alone. While she would rather not admit it, the past few days had made her increasingly fragile mental and emotional state readily apparent even to her own self.
As she was now, Lucina needed an ally in the world, someone she could at least trust on some level… and here the tactician Robin was, offering her that hand she so desperately needed to hold onto.
Nodding ever so slightly, the cerulean-haired girl allowed Robin's hand to lower her own. "… Alright…" she whispered softly. "I'll trust you…"
"… Thank you…" was the tactician's equally soft reply. "That's all I was really asking for."
Before she knew it, Lucina was being guided back to the chair she'd fallen asleep in. The tactician eased her numb body into the seat, making sure she was comfortable before taking Falchion from her hand and setting it aside.
Without Falchion in her grasp, Lucina felt almost as if she were naked, but she shook the feeling aside and tried to keep her tenuous grip on her emotions about her. While she'd decided to trust Robin, that didn't mean she was quite ready to let her guard down completely around the man.
Taking a seat in the room's solitary bed, Robin leaned forward and placed his elbows on his thighs. Lucina could see the gears working behind the tactician's eyes, his brows furrowed in thought as he seemingly considered how he wanted to approach the situation. She was thankful for whatever reason gave him pause, because it also allowed her to find some semblance of composure for what was to come.
It was a long period of silence before he finally looked up and opened his mouth to speak.
"So…" he began tentatively.
Lucina waited with baited breath. 'Here it comes…'
Robin let out a tired sigh. "Man, how to start this, really?" he said, chuckling dryly. "I had quite a few questions before, but now that we're here…"
The tactician paused for a moment before suddenly offering up a lopsided smile. "I guess I should start by saying thank you for saving my backside back in that forest."
'What…?'
Recovering from her surprise, Lucina shook her head stiffly. "No thanks are needed, Sir Robin," she replied, before she raised an eyebrow inquisitively. "Surely you didn't come here just to say that?"
Robin laughed. "Well, no, but I needed to break the ice somehow," he admitted, smiling sheepishly for a moment. "You're quite the puzzle, Marth, so much so that I even wasn't quite sure how to start our first proper conversation with each other."
Lucina appraised the white-haired man seated across from her. The cerulean-haired girl had been expecting an almost confrontational sort of approach from the tactician, similar to what he'd done earlier in the day after the conclusion of her duel with the Ylissean Prince. She was most definitely confused and surprised by his casual, almost laid-back approach, especially when she considered how his behavior tended to be more on the severe and serious side.
'Then again… I suppose I've only ever really encountered him when he's in his element…' Lucina thought to herself, acknowledging once again that she'd only ever really met the Ylissean tactician Robin a handful of times, at best, and most of those times had been on the battlefield.
"Truth be told, I've been curious about you ever since our first encounter," Robin continued, drawing Lucina from her internal thoughts. "You drop out of a glowing portal in the sky and fight alongside us against what can only be described as an army of the undead. You follow that up with some cryptic words about an approaching calamity before leaving without even allowing any of us to get a word in. The next time you show up, you're suddenly on the opposing side, and proceed to beat the ever living life out of Chrom until – for whatever reason – you proceed to throw the duel after seeing his blood splashed all over his face. You keep to yourself except when it suits you, and you even hide your face behind a mask – a butterfly-shaped mask, at that – as if the very idea of showing your face might spell damnation for the whole world."
Lucina couldn't quite keep the surprise from her face at his words. It was more than a little curious that, out of all the things he'd mentioned, he'd chosen to single out the shape of her mask. Of course, she knew what the symbolism behind it was, but there was no way he could know given the fact he only had about three weeks' worth of memories.
Almost as if he could read her mind, Robin chuckled. "There's no need to be so surprised," he said. "I've been reading a lot – as much as I could and at every opportunity. It just so happened that one of the books I read was about symbolisms."
The cerulean-haired girl frowned. "Assuming the shape of my mask holds any sort of significance, what does that have to do with anything?"
Granted, it did, but she wasn't quite ready to let the tactician know how accurate his readings of her were right now.
Robin shrugged easily. "That's something I'd like to know, to be perfectly honest," he replied, before a knowing smile touched his lips. "That said, what I do know is that your mask wasn't just a fashion statement." His hazel eyes looked meaningfully at Lucina's own sapphires, searching out her left eye. "It's not every day that someone's carrying a Mark of Naga in the iris of their left eye, after all."
The cerulean-haired girl resisted the urge to cover her left eye. There was no use trying to hide it, not when the tactician had likely already seared its image into his memory.
As things were right now, Robin currently had all the cards in his favor, considering his knowledge of her Mark. For now, all she could do was try to play his game and see where it led.
With that in mind, Lucina returned Robin's gaze as steadily as she could. "… So, what do you want from me, Sir Robin?" she asked.
Robin sighed tiredly. "Honestly? I just want answers," he answered. "I have many unanswered questions, and it just so happens that you can shed light on a lot of them for me."
Lucina couldn't help but smile wryly. "Those are interesting words from someone who woke with no memories, Sir Robin. I'd say there are equally as many unanswered questions about you."
The tactician chuckled. "Quite right, I'll give you that, Marth," he said, before he grew thoughtful. "… Or whatever your name really is. I'm almost sure that's not actually your name, even if I have no idea who you actually are. I mean, I have a few crazy ideas, but…"
"What ideas are they, if I may ask?" she suddenly asked.
Robin blinked. "Huh?"
Lucina felt herself grow a little flustered. "I-I mean… I'm just curious as to your thoughts," she stammered out. "Considering all you've figured out about me, I want to know what else is in your thoughts, Sir Tactician."
Said tactician raised an eyebrow. "I assume that you're doing this almost completely out of curiosity and won't be confirming or denying anything I say, will you?"
Lucina nodded, barely managing to keep herself from laughing at the bluntness of Robin's statement. Granted, it was true, but the matter-of-fact delivery somehow just struck a humorous chord within her.
The tactician chuckled. "Fair enough," he said. "Well, I'm still not sure about a lot of things, but your Mark did answer some of the questions I had by confirming one important fact for me: that you're of the Exalted bloodline, which means you're related to Chrom in some way, shape, or form. I'd already had some suspicions about it before, but it wasn't until I saw your eyes a few minutes ago that I could really say I was absolutely sure."
Lucina leaned in a little closer. "What made you think so initially?"
"Like I said, it was a suspicion – a hypothesis, if you will – based on three things," Robin admitted, running a hand through his snow-white hair. "First off, you're almost completely covered from head to toe. I initially had no idea why, but it made more sense when I saw the Mark of Naga embroidered into your cape, which just so happens to be my second point – the fact that you wear the said emblem on your armor and cape. With that in mind, I began to entertain the thought that you were covered up so much because you were trying to hide something, which just so happened to be spot-on."
Lucina nodded, masking her surprise at Robin's leaps of logic. The tactician's thinking was sound, and she couldn't help but be impressed by his reasoning given all the assumptions he had to make to come to those conclusions. Granted, she was lucky no one else had been able to make any of those connections just yet – and Naga forbid someone else begin to figure out her identity – but she supposed that, if anyone could, it would be the Shepherds' ferociously intelligent tactician.
"So, what was the third?" she asked, trying to keep him talking lest she accidentally let something slip through her words or her expression.
Robin chuckled. "Ah, the third point's not quite as incriminating as the first two," he replied. "But… well, the fact that you possess some physical similarities with Chrom happens to fit in with my imagined narrative. Your hair is the exact same shade of blue as Chrom's, and what I could see of your facial features also resembled his own or Exalt Emmeryn's to some degree. While it may be a coincidence, those physical features I mentioned also happen to be traits you both share with the Hero-King, judging by the portraits I saw of him back in the palace at Ylisstol, which reinforces the idea that you're actually related."
Lucina raised her eyebrows in surprise. "That's… quite the conclusion to make from something that you yourself acknowledge is coincidental…"
The tactician shrugged lightly. "Like I said, on its own it's not quite as incriminating," he said, misunderstanding the cerulean-haired girl's reaction. "I'm just keeping it in mind since inheriting physical traits is quite common among descendants of a bloodline."
"… Though now that I've seen your face in its entirety, I can tell you that you're much prettier than Chrom is," Robin added as an afterthought after a moment of pause.
Lucina felt her cheeks warm up at Robin's last remark, and she turned her face away to try and hide what she was sure was a brightly glowing blush. However innocent Robin's words might have been, she still couldn't help but be flustered by the compliment.
The white-haired tactician frowned. "Hey, what's wrong? Are you alright?"
Lucina looked sharply at him, blush glowing even more fiercely. "If you're thinking your moment of kindness earlier gives you the right to shamelessly flirt–"
Suddenly realizing just what his words had insinuated, Robin quickly raised his hands in a placating gesture. "N-no, wait, I didn't mean it like that!" he said, his own cheeks lighting up pink. "D-don't get the wrong idea! I had no such thoughts!"
"Y-you better not have…" Lucina murmured, placing a hand over her chest to try and calm her rapidly beating heart.
A fairly uncomfortable silence followed as the two flustered individuals attempted to regain their composure. Every once in a while, Lucina would throw a rather withering glare Robin's way, and every time the tactician locked eyes with her she'd quickly break eye contact and look away.
After several minutes of tense back and forth between the two, the tactician finally broke the awkward silence.
Robin coughed, regaining Lucina's full attention once more. "G-going back to what I said earlier… no, not that!" he quickly added when Lucina shot him another glare. "I was referring more towards what I was saying regarding my hypothesis on who you might be. For the longest time, it was nothing but speculation and educated guesswork that I concocted in my spare time, but…"
"But now that you've seen my Mark, your hypothesis that I might be related to the Exalted bloodline is actually proven true on some level," Lucina supplied, acknowledging that, while Robin could so very easily fumble social activity, his guesswork was exceptional. She couldn't help but admire and appreciate the white-haired man's analytical mind even if it made her more than a little nervous just how close he was getting to uncovering the truth about her.
Robin nodded. "Yes, exactly. That said, I'm… not exactly sure how you're related," the tactician answered, lacing his fingers together in front of his face. "I mean, as we've already said, the Mark proves it. You can't magic up that sort of physical trait, and, even if you did, I should have been able to tell from the get-go." He sighed heavily. "However, it doesn't tell me anything besides that fact. Making the situation more confusing is me trying to figure out why we'd ever have a member of the Exalted bloodline that's never been talked about, especially when you consider how much Chrom, Exalt Emmeryn, and Lissa adore each other."
"Do you have any ideas, though?" Lucina asked. "If you've gotten that far with your hypothesis, then surely you were able to develop it a little further."
Robin ran a hand through his hair. "I admit that I came up with a couple of ideas," he said. "I didn't go very far with them, though, since I don't want to get too wild with my theory-crafting while there are still so many unknowns on the field."
He shrugged. "If you're curious, I guess I can share them, anyway. I initially considered that you might have been Chrom's sister, maybe switched with Lissa at birth for some reason or another, but I debunked that myself pretty quickly. Even with the new information like the presence of the Mark in your left eye, it still doesn't hold much water."
Lucina furrowed her eyebrows. "Explain."
Robin shrugged. "You resemble Chrom a little bit more closely than Lissa does, and you have the Mark she lacks. But while Lissa and Chrom don't look too much alike, no one can deny that Lissa very much resembles Emmeryn. Aside from that, the only reason you and Lissa would have been switched at birth is so a noble family can either-" At this, Robin raised a finger. "-have ties to the throne through her, or-" Here, he raised a second one. "-try to use you to take the throne for themselves. Either way, that wouldn't work since it would imply that either you or Lissa resented the Exalted bloodline for whatever reason."
He suddenly paused, as if struck by a sudden thought, before letting out a bark of laughter.
"Granted, you did beat the ever-living tar out of Chrom earlier today, so maybe that idea might not be as far-fetched as I think, but I'm still convinced that you hold no ill feelings of any sort towards them."
Lucina raised an eyebrow. "What makes you say that?" she asked. He was certainly right in saying she didn't, but… again, there was something in her that wanted to hear the tactician's reasoning.
"Well, you saved Lissa and Chrom back in the forest that night we met, didn't you? Deception doesn't seem to be your strongest suit, anyway, but I doubt you're the type who'd ever do something – especially save someone's life – with ulterior motives in mind."
'Touché.'
She certainly couldn't refute that statement, simple as it was.
"Either way, I'm quite sure that you or Lissa raising hell and leading some revolt to take the throne isn't happening," Robin concluded. "Lissa loves her siblings too much, and, while I don't actually know what your motives are, I don't feel like you're holding any sort of grudge against Chrom or Lissa or actually hold any aspirations for the throne."
Lucina nodded. She would have considered Robin's theory as believable, too, were it not for Lissa's aforementioned love and adoration for her siblings… although, looking at this scenario from the outside, one might indeed wonder if her own motivations might include aspirations for one day wresting the title of Exalt away from Emmeryn or the succession rights from Chrom.
She shook her head. 'Desiring the Ylissean throne, hm?' she thought, trying to keep a smile from her lips. 'If only you really knew.'
"I know, that idea's pretty out there, but at least it still has some semblance of sense to it," the tactician said. "All my other ideas are pretty much the definition of crazy. The second theory I had was that maybe you were a child that the previous Exalt had with a consort or a mistress – some product of his misdeed – but I doubt that you could have escaped the attention and knowledge of the Ylissean court all these years."
Lucina couldn't resist the smile this time, however small it may have been. 'I'm no product of misdeed, Sir Tactician, but I certainly am the child of an Exalt…' she thought dryly. 'Just not the Exalt you might be thinking of…'
Robin sighed. "Regardless, those theories are out the window because while they're plausible in terms of explaining your blood heritage, they still don't give me the answers to a lot of very important questions," he continued. "Nothing – not even your Mark of Naga – has managed to tie up any of the loose ends that remain unanswered. Hell, I'd say your Mark actually makes things even harder for me to figure it out."
"Those loose ends being…?" Lucina asked.
Robin blew out a breath. "Wow, where do I start?" he asked rhetorically. "Let's see…"
Here the tactician began ticking off fingers as he listed out his questions. "I think the most important question is figuring out where you come from. After that, I can ask everything else, like where you acquired that Falchion doppelganger you're carrying around, and why said doppelganger looks exactly like the Falchion Chrom wears on his own hip."
Lucina's eyebrows shot up. "H-how are you not sure that my weapon isn't just a well-made replica?" she asked, not quite able to mask the waver in her tone.
At this point, Robin chuckled. "Simple. When I took your sword from your hands, I looked it over and compared it to the image of Falchion in my head. It's not so hard to remember it down to the last detail, because I don't have much taking up space in my head to begin with." He gave the cerulean-haired girl a searching look. "Care to know what I found out?"
"W-what did you find out?" Lucina asked, feeling her heart rate increase just a tiny bit more.
Robin let a smirk twist his lips. "Aside from a few additional scuffs and scratches here and there, the two swords are exactly alike."
Lucina swallowed, trying to keep her rising panic from showing. "S-so? What are you saying, Sir Tactician?"
Robin's smirk turned into a frown. "That's the thing, Marth. I really have no idea what I'm saying."
"What?" The cerulean-haired girl's panic vanished as quickly as it had come, replaced with an all-too apparent confusion that she couldn't quite keep from her face.
For his part, the tactician sighed. "It's because nothing adds up. Your origins could be just about anything at this point," he said. "I've read up a little bit on this place called the Outrealms, and from what I understand it's supposedly some sort of gateway that connects us to other worlds and dimensions. Everything surrounding you is so confusing that I've even considered that you actually are some reincarnated Hero-King from one of these other worlds, which might explain the sword but not how you're constantly one step ahead of us every time. If I was crazy I'd even consider something as absurd as time travel to try and explain your seeming omniscience."
Lucina's breath hitched for a moment at the mention of time travel. There was no way the tactician could…
"Those are… some rather imaginative theories," she ventured carefully. Just like that, the panic was back in full force, because he was close. If only Robin really knew how close to the truth he actually was.
'By the goddess, Sir Robin… you and your intellect truly are frightening.'
Robin chuckled. "Oh, you think so, too?" he replied with a grin. "Glad to know you think they're as crazy as I thought they were."
Lucina let out an inaudible sigh, masking her relief with a soft smile of her own. She'd been saved – she'd actually been saved – by the unlikeliness of her own story.
"Thanks for the opportunity, though," the tactician added. "Even if you're not even confirming or denying anything, at least I was able to get some of this off my chest."
The cerulean-haired girl shook her head. "It's… it's fine, Sir Robin," she replied. "It was also quite enlightening for me, listening to your theories and your reasoning… even the more far-fetched ones."
Robin laughed, and Lucina couldn't help but smile at the sound. His laugh was infectious and open, the kind that would easily spread to others who heard it. Lucina felt just that tiny pang of pain in her heart that she was so broken that she was incapable of joining in and laughing along with such a beautiful sound.
"So… what's next for you after this?" Robin suddenly asked after he'd calmed down. "I doubt you're going to stay as Khan Basilio's champion, so I'm pretty sure you're going to get moving sooner rather than later. To be honest, I want to invite you to join us, but… well, if your track record is any indication, you'll probably tell me you'd rather work alone."
Lucina nodded once, slowly. "Quite right," she replied, a hidden part of her instantly regretting having said those words. Oh, how she wanted to take her words back and simply agree to join the Shepherds, but the cerulean-haired girl somehow found the strength within to hold firm to her resolve.
Robin sighed helplessly. "Can't say I wasn't expecting that, but at least I tried…" he murmured, before shaking his head. "Well, either way, I'm sure our paths will cross again in the very near future… maybe even when we get back to Ylisstol, I'd say."
The cerulean-haired girl raised a delicate eyebrow. "What makes you say that?" she asked.
'You're not exactly wrong, though… but I'm starting to worry because your foresight is equally sharp. Are you sure you aren't from the future yourself?'
The tactician ran a hand through his hair. "As much as the Exalt would have hoped otherwise, I can tell that Ylisse has problems with Plegia," he replied. "I tend to like being right, but I'm really hoping I'm wrong when I say that those problems are going to get worse before they get better." He gave the cerulean-haired girl a smile. "Still, I can't help but think you'll have a role to play in helping us avert whatever crisis might be coming our way."
"… There definitely is a coming catastrophe… but it's nothing like what you're expecting," Lucina answered, eyes staring into the distance for a moment as she once again saw images in her mind's eye that she'd rather forget. Shaking her head, the cerulean-haired girl returned her attention to the tactician sitting across from her. "Our very future is at stake here, Sir Robin, and I don't just mean Ylisse's own, but that of the world itself."
The tactician leaned forward. "A catastrophe?" he asked, eyes almost begging for answers.
Lucina averted her eyes. "… I'm sorry, but I can't say more for now," she added quietly. "Just know that the fate of everything may hinge on the actions you take in the coming months… so, please, take great care."
Robin leaned back, his expression one of disappointment, but he gave her a nod. "I see. I'll keep that in mind at all times," he replied, before rising to his feet. "I think I've taken enough of your time, and I should be getting back to the Shepherds." He gave Lucina a warm smile. "Thank you for the talk, Marth. While I may not have gotten the answers I necessarily wanted, I did learn a lot… even if some of it was accidental."
Lucina nodded, understanding just what that accidental information he was referring to was. Again, she cursed her carelessness for a moment before quickly tossing the thought to the side. It had already happened, and Robin already knew. There was nothing else to be done but to live with it.
Still… that didn't mean the information had to spread.
'Especially not to Prince Chrom…'
Lucina's hand shot out, grabbing Robin's arm as he moved for the door and prompting the tactician to give her his attention again.
"Sir Robin… please, if you'd wait a moment more?"
The tactician turned to face her, eyes expressing a mix of curiosity and confusion. "Yes?"
Lucina hesitated for a moment. "… Whatever you've learned today about me… is it alright if I ask that you not share any of it with anyone else?"
Robin's eyebrows went up, and Lucina suddenly felt her cheeks warm. "N-not that I don't trust your comrades, but…"
"I won't spread anything, I promise."
Lucina blinked. "Eh?"
Robin smiled. "I may not fully understand your reasons or motivations, but I know that your intentions are noble," he replied gently. "I will repay your trust with my own. You may not think of me as a friend quite yet, but I hope that you'll at least think of me as an ally you can count on."
"S-Sir Robin…"
The tactician nodded, softly taking Lucina's hand from his arm and lowering it back to the armrest of her chair before he once again moved towards the door.
Lucina watched as he placed a hand on the doorknob, but for some reason didn't move to open it for several moments.
"Ah, right. Before I go…" Robin suddenly spoke up.
Quizzically, the girl looked up from where she was seated. "Hm?"
The tactician turned back to face Lucina, his expression filled with an emotion she couldn't quite identify.
"Are you sure there's no way I can convince you to travel with us?" he asked her, his tone sounding like it was almost pleading. "We can help you, if you'd allow us to. I know we can."
Lucina felt her heart beat painfully. This was it. The opportunity she'd only been able to imagine but never actually expected to happen.
As painful as it was to her deep down, Lucina shook her head gently. "Thank you for the thoughtfulness of your offer… but, right now, my place is not with you, Sir Tactician," she replied. Even then, an immense feeling of gratitude filled her heart, and she couldn't help but allow the tiniest of smiles to grace her lips. "Perhaps someday, it may become possible for me to travel with you. Until then, know I will keep my vigil over you all. I wish you and your companions safe travels."
Robin nodded in understanding. "I see…" he replied, disappointment clearly etched in those earnest hazel eyes of his. "I wish you luck, Marth. I know I said I'm sure that's not actually your name, but I have nothing else to call you by, so…"
"Lucina."
The tactician did a double take. "E-excuse me?"
"My real name," the cerulean-haired girl said, surprising even herself with the decision to trust the tactician with that most vital piece of information about herself. "It's Lucina."
Robin smiled, and for some reason Lucina could see a distinct sense of joy in his expression. "Lucina, then," he said. "It's nice to finally meet you for real. Please, stay safe until our next meeting."
"I… I will, Sir Robin. I ask that you do the same."
The tactician nodded. "I will do my best. Thank you… Lucina."
And with those words, Robin took his leave, quietly shutting the door behind him.
Lucina could only stare at the space he'd been occupying moments before, a strange feeling fluttering inside her chest at the tactician having referred to her by her real name.
The next morning, the Shepherds stood at the gates of Arena Ferox, ready to head home after having secured the much-needed alliance with Regna Ferox.
There were a few hangovers among the Shepherds after the Khans had brought out some harder liquor during his little escapade. It was quite the sight to see, Robin had to admit, seeing so many of his comrades look more than a little disoriented. Vaike and Sully were the main offenders, and if it weren't for some invisible force steadying them, Robin was quite sure they'd have toppled over unceremoniously by now.
Of course, Robin had been unable to believe his eyes and taken a closer look at the two, only to realize that it was actually Kellam keeping the two upright.
'I really should practice looking out for him… Wouldn't do for a tactician to not have all his soldiers accounted for,' the tactician thought to himself, chuckling at the knight's incredible lack of presence.
Across from the Shepherds stood the two Khans, looking none too worse for the wear even after a night of heavy drinking. A troop of the Khans' personal guards stood behind them, not quite at attention but definitely appraising the prince and tactician with some measure of respect.
'Looks like our escapades here have done some good, after all…'
"Khan Flavia, Khan Basilio, you have my thanks for agreeing to our alliance," Chrom said, bringing Robin out of his thoughts in time for him to see the prince clasping wrists with the two Khans in turn.
Flavia grinned. "I'm a woman of my word, Princeling, and the Feroxi always honor their promises," she replied. "Besides, you helped me get my throne back from this big lug over here! How could I not have repaid you for that?"
As the Khan-Regent burst into laughter, Basilio grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like "Just you wait until those hangers-on start making your life miserable…"
"What was that, oaf?" Flavia asked, turning to face her Western counterpart.
The two Khans quickly descended into a round of bickering, the Prince of Ylisse only able to watch things play out with a bewildered expression on his face. Behind the two, the Khans' guards seemed completely unperturbed by the scene, as if it were a more common occurrence than any of them would probably care for.
Robin chose that moment to quietly slide up next to Chrom. "I think we should be getting a move on, Chrom," he said lowly, breaking Chrom out of his trance. "Even with the Feroxi messenger ahead of us on the road, Exalt Emmeryn will want word from us as quickly as possible."
Chrom nodded. "Right. Thank you, Robin." Clearing his throat, the prince gave a respectful half-bow to the bantering Khans. "Well, then, we'd best be going. Thank you once again to you both."
With his piece said, the prince began to turn away, but, before he or any of the Shepherds could so much as take more than a few steps, the gruff voice of Khan Basilio called out.
"Hold, boy," Khan Basilio said, prompting the Shepherds to turn their attention back to the dark-skinned man, who'd managed to fend off Flavia long enough to get his attention. "I almost forgot. Before you go, I have a little present for you."
Waving a hand, the large warrior motioned for someone to come forward from the troop behind him. Out from the group of Feroxi warriors emerged a stern-faced man with messy dark hair, a traveling pack hoisted over his shoulders.
Robin's eyebrows rose as he recognized the gruff swordsman who'd served as his guide yesterday evening. The man gave not a hint of recognition in his eyes or in his expression, choosing to simply scowl at anything and everything around him.
"This is Lon'qu, my former champion," Basilio said, clapping a meaty hand down on the taciturn swordsman's shoulder. If the strength of the blow bothered him, he did a very good job of hiding it. "He's not much for talking, but he's handy with a sword… about as good as Marth, in my mind, and we all saw what he could do to the Princeling!"
Basilio laughed heartily at that, and Chrom couldn't help but redden in embarrassment.
"To be honest, I still can't figure out how Marth was able to best him the way he did," the West-Khan added after his laughter had subsided. "I've never seen anyone knock Lon'qu out that way – his mastery of the fourth school shouldn't have allowed for such a situation to have happened."
Robin frowned in thought. 'The fourth school…?'
"Marth beat him?" Lissa asked, eyeing Lon'qu curiously and taking a few steps towards the silent man to get a closer look. "But he looks so big and strong!"
As Lissa approached, Lon'qu stiffened and quickly took a step back for every step towards him the princess took.
"Away, woman!" he growled out tersely, his expression quite pale.
Lissa pulled back quickly at the sound, letting out a 'meep' as she did so. Frederick frowned, his hand instantly moving for his spear, but Robin's hand landing on his forearm along with a quick shake of the head forced the knight to hold his ground and his tongue.
"Hey! W-what did I say wrong?" Lissa asked, clearly reeling from the reaction.
Basilio once again burst into laughter, almost doubling over as he did so were it not for his hand on Flavia's shoulder barely keeping him upright.
"Oh, that never gets old," the Khan said after his fit of laughter. "Not to worry, Princess, it isn't so much something you've done, but something you are."
Lissa gave him a quizzical look, prompting Basilio to explain further. "Lon'qu here has… well, let's just say he has a thing about women." The Khan's one good eye suddenly made contact with Robin's own eyes, and a hidden message quickly passed between the two men.
'Ah… yes, of course. He remembers our conversation from yesterday.'
"They tend to put him on edge, and make him more than a little nervous when they get a little too close for comfort," Basilio continued. "Nonetheless, he's a capable warrior – probably the best I have. Perhaps he even has the makings of a Khan one day should he continue to grow stronger." The Khan grinned. "Consider his service a reward for impressing me boy. Think of him as the West-Khan's personal contribution to your cause."
Robin nodded, filing away Basilio's words in his mind. If the West-Khan himself was saying as much, then Lon'qu was clearly a man of great strength and even greater potential.
Next to the tactician, Chrom frowned thoughtfully. "Your generosity is appreciated, but… are you sure, West-Khan?" he asked. "Giving us one of your best warriors just like that?"
Basilio chuckled good-naturedly. "Yes, yes, quite sure. He's your man now," he replied.
Chrom turned his attention to Lon'qu. "And you, Lon'qu? Have you any objections to this arrangement?"
The stoic swordsman shrugged. "He gives orders, and I stab people. Our roles are clear," he replied. "Now I'll just be doing the stabbing for you."
Taken aback by Lon'qu's no-nonsense, apathetic manner, Chrom could only nod. "I… I see. Welcome aboard, then."
The swordsman nodded at the prince, before turning his attention to Robin, who could proudly say that he didn't flinch or turn away from the other man's sharp, eagle-eyed gaze.
"Yes?" he ventured out.
Lon'qu silently appraised him for a moment. "You are the tactician? The one who bested Raimi?"
Robin frowned, wondering where this conversation was going. "I am."
Lon'qu nodded. "I see. I look forward to serving under you, and to learning as much as I can from you while in your service."
As he moved to take his place within the Shepherds' formation, Robin couldn't help but be reminded once again of Lon'qu's almost-terrifying intensity.
It distracted him so that it was only after a few moments that the swordsman's last statements had registered in his mind.
'Learning from me? What?'
"I told him that there's much to be learned under the command of a gifted tactician."
Robin turned to look at Basilio, who was now looking at him. "I think he'll flourish beneath your watchful eye, Tactician Robin… just like the rest of you Shepherds probably will if given enough time."
"Robin?" "M-me?"
Prince and tactician both shared a look, equally surprised by the fact they'd spoken at the same time and the fact that the latter had been singled out by the West-Khan.
"Yes, tactician, you," Flavia said, grinning. "You bested our border guards, and that's not something so easily done. Basilio seems to hold you in high regard, as well, and… while he's wrong in a lot of things, I can admit that he's usually right when it comes to appraising those with potential."
Robin felt his cheeks warm at the indirect compliment he'd just been paid, and by the leaders of Regna Ferox, no less.
Beside him, Lissa grinned. "Looks like someone's moving up in the world," she remarked cheekily, giving Robin a nudge in the ribs.
If at all possible, Robin flushed even deeper. "T-thank you. That… that's high praise," he said, wanting to just pull the cowl of his coat up to hide his flaming cheeks.
They weren't going to let him live this down the entirety of the journey back, he could already feel it.
Oh, how he couldn't wait to be back in Ylisstol.