Chapter Two
Faith
(Accursed Soul)
Robin had been fully competent in his duel against two lifeless husks.
He had been able to read Gerome's movements.
Against Libra, he had felt overwhelmed by the cleric's sheer strength, but could keep up decently well.
But he felt, truly and completely, that Lucina would be his last opponent.
Between his exhaustion from his prior fight with Libra, and the near half day of riding on horseback, he was in fairly bad condition for a fight as it was. But even at his fullest capacity, this woman would press him to his absolute limit.
Each strike held such power, yet she never overextended or left a clear opening. Her blade, one he knew for a fact he had seen before, moved with such precise movements, it was all he could do to stay alive. But with each blow, it became more and more obvious he couldn't keep this defense up.
Her sword arced upward through the air, glinting in the torchlight from the palace walls. Robin managed to sidestep the upward swing, finding the first opening of the entire fight. He knew she would catch his blade before it could connect, and he didn't want to grievously wound her anyway, so he did the only thing he could think to do.
He punched her in the face.
She sputtered, being thrown a few steps back, dazed and spitting blood, looking at him with a burning hate. Robin, seeking to take the initiative, moved forward, intending to disarm her while she was reeling. He swung at her blade, aiming for the hilt, but she recovered far faster than he had anticipated. She sidestepped, drawing her blade upward across his ribs, forcing him to a kneel, before turning to slash him across the back. He felt his coat tear open, two long wounds now adorning his body as he fell face first into the dirt.
He heard her footsteps. She walked around, into his field of vision. Blade in hand, she raised an arm. Robin was aware of someone yelling, people moving, but it was all a blur. He reflected on Frederick's words, that many would blame him for this world. Seeing as she was demanding his life in atonement, Robin assumed Lucina was one of them. For a miniscule moment, he wondered if he did deserve this. If this was the end he should be meeting.
But in that moment, her blade poised to kill, his face on the ashen dirt, Robin came to perhaps the most important conclusion of his life so far.
He wanted to live. He wanted to truly atone. He could not die here. He would not.
"...S-Sorry… about this… Exalt…" her eyes narrowed as her blade descended, yet it would not meet flesh. Not yet.
He raised his right hand, and he felt a burning on the back right where his mark was. An odd energy surged through his veins, as he focused all of it into his palm, feeling it coalesce, as a dark purple light began to glow, reflected in the blue eyes of his would-be killer.
He did not know, nor fully understand this power, but as he felt it come forward, he knew its name.
"Accursed Soul."
With those words, the energy exploded from his hand, a shockwave of force sending Lucina flying backwards out of his sight. The purple light bathed the palace and illuminated the eternal twilight, for only a moment. As the energy left his body, dispersing as he laid motionless, he felt his consciousness fade. He had no strength left, having tapped into what seemed to be his last reserve, fully on instinct.
Robin's arm slowly lowered, coming to a rest on the ashen ground. His eyes began to close, and he lacked any energy to fight it. All he could do is pray that it wouldn't be for the last time.
Lucina rose from where she had slammed into the palace wall, coughing and spluttering, using Falchion to help her stand to her feet, immediately sinking into a combat stance. The ash was kicked up in a cloud, the perfect smokescreen to strike from, and if this Fell beast thought she would be undone by such a tactic, then he would quickly learn otherwise.
It soon became clear, however, that no such attack was coming. As the ash settled from the massive surge of energy, her eyes began to focus on the unconscious form of the Fellblood himself, motionless where he lay. Around her, movement began to stir. The palace guard began to file down from the wall, where they had stood in stunned silence. Gerome moved toward her, hobbling from the harsh fall he had taken, as Frederick ran towards the Fellblood.
She moved toward the Fellblood as well, sword never lowering from a ready stance. Gerome fell in line beside her, twin daggers drawn as well.
"Lucina," he began, voice haggard. "What was that? Are you injured?"
She took note of her body, and it was ultimately hard to tell. At the least, nothing was broken, but her cheek still hurt from the underhanded move, and her back was in a great deal of pain from being slammed into a stone wall.
"Nothing I… won't survive," she responded, pausing to fight another cough. She moved onward, watching Frederick check the Fellblood's pulse.
"Have Brady take a look at you later, at least," Gerome said. "That blast… that was no ordinary spell. That wasn't even dark magic. That was…"
"It was the power of a dragon," she finished, quickening her gait. "And today, we will be dragonslayers."
She stopped short, ten feet from the Fellblood, where a towering Frederick stood, a wall of steel and iron, defiant. He held his lance and his shield, not aimed at the two of them, but she knew well that he would if he felt he needed to.
"Knight Frederick," she spoke, her voice as steady as she could keep it. "You aid our enemy, and now stand defiant of your Exalt. This constitutes treason. Stand down, now, and I will overlook this as the lapse in judgment that it is."
"Milady," Frederick said solemnly, "I have absolutely no desire to fight you. I swore an oath to protect you, at every turn. It may not be one that you can recall, but it is one I would die before I would forsake."
"Then stand aside, and give up the traitor," Gerome cut in, his words carrying a very clear edge to them. The palace guard had begun to gather around, many now aiming their weapons at Frederick, copying the example of their superiors.
"I cannot do that. Robin is the greatest hope we have. His appearance marks the first chance at salvation I have seen. Moreover, he is a true friend. I cannot abide standing idle and allowing harm to come upon him," the knight said.
"Then die standing, if that is your wish." Gerome began to move forward before a single hand on his shoulder stopped him. Lucina stared at Frederick, her face a carefully constructed mask.
"Leave us." The palace guards took a few moments to move, surprised at the order, before rushing to obey.
"Knight Frederick," she began, voice dangerously even, after the last of the guards had left. "You know perfectly well who he is. What he is. This whole world has suffered greatly, on his own accord. You know this, and yet you defend him. I would like to know the reason why."
"I have answered that already. This man, he represents hope. His mind is… the most brilliant I have ever known. If anyone can think of a means to overcome Grima now, in this hopeless world, it is he." His words were resolute. Lucina knew well that he would not budge on this.
Frederick had been someone she had known her entire life, the one from her time first, and now this one from a time none of them yet understood. She had no desire to harm him. But even so…
"Frederick, stand down." Her voice was steel, unbreakable.
"I cannot do that, milady." The knight stabbed his lance into the ground, ash springing upward from the impact. He unclasped his shield from his arm, allowing it to fall to the dirt. He drew the longsword at his side, pointing it forward with his free arm behind his back.
"I am Frederick, Knight of Ylisse. I will bring no harm to my Exalt, but nor will I allow harm to befall the last hope of my kingdom." He straightened his back, standing at his full height. "If you wish to kill him, you must kill me first."
Gerome snarled. "That thing burned our home. That monster stole our parents. Our sunlight. Our world. And now, in the last place of safety we have, the last semblance of home we have been afforded, you would bring him, and what's more, as a guest of honor?"
Lucina made to speak, before a sight in her periphery cut her off. Her blade seemed to glow, a subtle, divine glow.
The Fellblood… has been summoned… too…
Six words. A soft, frail, withering voice. The voice of the goddess.
The voice she had only heard twice before. Once, drawing her and her people to Mount Prism. Again, telling her to trust the younger versions of the fallen Shepherds, the Adrift in Time. And now…
Based on their continued argument, Lucina alone heard these words. She was at a loss, though. How could it be that the man who took her father from her had the blessing of the Divine Dragon? She couldn't begin to understand, and wasn't sure how to.
She was torn in a way she had never been. Everything within her screamed for vengeance, for the final atonement of the man who destroyed her life. Yet she was not so foolish as to fraglantly ignore her goddess's words, rare as they were. In the end, she could not leave this in her own hands.
"Knight Frederick," the two men ceased arguing as she spoke up, "this man is a monster, his genius used with the sole intention of twisting the world to his whim. That is not something I could be convinced of otherwise. Do you believe, with everything within you, that he will work in Ylisse's favor?"
Gerome fumed at the question. "You would truly even entertain such-"
"Should Robin turn against Ylisse, I will offer my life, in accordance with the Edict of Faith," Frederick stated plainly. This caused the masked man to furrow his brow.
"Edict of Faith? What is that?", Gerome asked, a hint of confusion entering his tense tone.
"It is an old law, dating back to the original founding of the Knight's Order of Ylisse," Lucina supplied, her voice showing the first hint of her hesitation. "The Edict states that any appointed knight in the service of Ylisse can offer an apprenticeship to a criminal, effectively clearing the criminal's name. Should the criminal make an offense after being taken on as an apprentice, the knight who offered it will be given the same punishment as the apprentice. It is an archaic, outdated law, that hasn't been invoked in well over a century."
"'Tis still a law, milady, and I will invoke it today. The punishment for treason is death. Should Robin, at any point, willfully turn against Ylisse and her people, I will share his sentence," the knight said.
"But-, that-..." Gerome sputtered for a moment, floundering for words. "He has already betrayed us, Frederick! His treason is apparent in every speck of this accursed world."
"You accuse him of sins he cannot be held accountable for. And even if he could, those supposed sins are in the past. The Edict states that any criminal can be offered the apprenticeship to be spared punishment."
"The Edict was intended for petty thieves, minor criminals, and the occasional bandit. You're exploiting a loophole," Lucina said sourly.
"Aye. Perhaps so, but I still choose to invoke it today."
Lucina closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath. Gerome's hand still grasped his dagger, his stance still low, dangerous. She looked to Frederick, his swordsman's stance still upright and proper. Neither were ones to back down when they felt they needed to fight.
"Stand down. Both of you. No one dies tonight." Her words were quiet. This caused both men to momentarily show their surprise.
"Lucina?!" Gerome began, voice tight. "What are you-"
"Exalt." Her correction was short, terse. "Do not forget your place, Praetorian."
His face, even with his mask, showed every bit of his rage. "Exalt, are you truly going to offer quarter to the one that burned our world to a heap of ash and cinder? Are you going to be the Exalt that allowed the enemy within our gates? Will you next offer us all to Grima himself, sauteed and salted?"
"Praetorian," she said, voice calm and even. "I have no trust in that monster, no faith in the vessel for the Fell God. But even so, these Shepherds… the Adrift Shepherds have arrived here, and it is Naga who brought them forward. This includes the Fellblood. I know not the reason, and it is entirely likely we must kill him eventually as it is. But… pain me as much as it does, we must have faith in our goddess. She intends something for him."
Gerome stared at her for a moment, disgust etched on the lines of his face. "...May I be excused, Exalt?" His question was quiet, but no less forceful.
"Aye. That may be best."
He nodded, turning abruptly for the Praetorian Dorms of the palace, leaving only her, Frederick, and the unconscious Fellblood.
"Milady, I thank-"
"Don't," she cut him off. "Knight Frederick, I have utter faith in Naga. That alone saved the Fellblood's life. I do not care for this Edict you have invoked, but you will be held to that. Make certain he knows." She moved, walking back towards the palace herself. "Take him to the stockade, and put him in holding. No one will know who or what he is outside of the Praetorian and the Shepherds, understood?"
"Yes, my Exalt. I will make certain of it. And I will abide by the Edict, no matter what it brings," the knight answered. Lucina inwardly sighed.
"That's what I'm afraid of, Knight-Commander… I will be seeing him soon, I have many, many things I would like to ask him. Do not let your guard down," she said. The knight nodded, picking up the unconscious vessel, and walking toward his horse.
Lucina moved as fast as she reasonably could, entering her room and slamming the door behind her, deep breaths flowing in and out. Her room, like most in the city, wasn't very ornate. There was little in the way of luxury now, beyond a bed, a fireplace, and blankets. As she stood in her sparse room, all of the stress had caught up to her.
She sat against the door, clutching the blade she inherited from her father. Falchion's glow had since waned from before. Naga's rare voice had been her only guiding strength in this world. The only thing reminding her that she wasn't utterly alone. And now that same voice told her to spare the beast that had torn her world asunder.
Faith. That was the only thing sparing the Fellblood's life. That is what she said, at least.
In truth, Naga's voice only reminded her of her father. Chrom wasn't an incredibly religious man, but he had raised her to revere the voice of the Dragon when it came. Thinking of her father, she couldn't help but think what he would do, in her position. The answer, as painful as it is, was clear. Her father was a better person than she was, but she could at least try to live up.
Frederick being so adamant on the Fellblood's innocence had been a surprise, too. She wanted to trust the knight, but she fully believed that the vessel had a genius mind. If that mind could someday be beneficial to Ylisse, such the better, but she was worried that it was that mind which allowed him to deceive Frederick.
She could not bear to lose the knight. Not a second time. The adrift Shepherds had been a true blessing, in many, many ways.
The Fellblood would need to be watched closely. Very closely. A genius mind and a mastery over magic could be incredibly dangerous under normal circumstances, much less when you have draconic blood.
Perhaps he could prove to be beneficial. Perhaps they would kill him tomorrow.
Ultimately, she could never trust the monster that had taken everything from her. Even the faith in her goddess could not erode that hatred beyond the act of mercy.
She rose from where she sat, leaving her room, clutching her sword close. She needed to hit something, and she knew sleep would not find her tonight.
Robin roused unsteadily, the stone floor he woke on contrasting the ashen dirt he had lost consciousness on. He looked around the chambers, finding himself in a cell. The room was dark, with little protection from the elements, and only two lit braziers for light. The air was dry, the high altitude meaning that the room was rather cold. Within his cell was a barred window, with little bits of light seeping through. He tried to sit upright, and found that his side and back exploded with pain from the act.
"I wouldn't. Not yet, at least."
Robin turned his head to the otherside of the cell, finding a raven haired woman eyeing him, smiling coyly. Her skin was incredibly pale, and she was short, something accentuated by her leaning against the wall. Her figure was mostly obscured by her dark robes, but she was incredibly beautiful as it was.
And so very familiar.
"I… I know you, don't I?"
"All in good time," she chuckled lightly, something that seemed incredibly foreign to her. She swept her hair back, allowing it to fall across her shoulders loosely. "Robin, it's good to see you in… relatively good health."
"You're… are you one of the Shepherds?" He asked, voice rasping from dehydration. She seemed to notice, sliding a cup of water and a tray of food to him through the bars. Her smile seemed to grow a bit.
"Indeed, one of the Adrift as well. I'm certain you've no small deal of questions, but it would be best to save them for later. She'll be here soon," her voice trailed a bit, smile fading somewhat. "Robin, whatever she says about you, do not take it to heart. She doesn't know. She couldn't know. Frankly, the fact you're still alive… that alone is a blessing."
"L-Lucina?" He croaked. "She's coming here?"
"Aye. No doubt to present still more questions. Watch yourself around her. She possesses her father's nature in spades, both the good and the bad. Exalt Chrom's blood flows strongly in her veins."
That name. He froze for a moment, eyes going wide. "Ch-... Chrom…"
It was so close. A memory was so close to touching his mind, and yet it was just beyond his grasp. He kept digging, kept trying, just for a terrible pain to come upon him, as though a migraine spontaneously formed. He groaned, holding his head, pained and frustrated.
"Don't push for the memories too hard. All of the Adrift suffer from memory loss of some kind, but Frederick told me you had virtually nothing beyond vague familiarity. It causes us discomfort to try to force it, but for you, I imagine it would be worse," she said, kneeling down, examining him.
"Please," he managed, the pain subsiding somewhat, "I have had so… so many questions, and yet I cannot seem to ever get a straight answer. What happened to this world? What are the Shepherds, really, why have they been divided into generations? What role did I have to play in the world coming to this? What… what the hell am I? What does this mark mean?"
"Calm yourself," she said, gently. "The easiest question to answer; the Shepherds were a military outfit in the service of Ylisse. I assume you know that," she said, continuing at his nod. "Well. The reason for the 'generations' division is fairly simple. All of the original Shepherds of this time are dead. The second generation refers to the children of the originals."
"The… they're all dead?" He asked, trying to grasp for information as best he could.
"Well… all except one, but he is beyond us now," her tone told him not to press the issue.
"I see… So you, Frederick, and I are also now a part of the second generation?" His question got an odd smile from the porcelain girl.
"Well, that's just the thing. We, my poor friend, happen to be first generation Shepherds," the girl said it as though it was an interesting trivia fact. The whitehaired tactician found himself to be extremely confused.
"But… you said…"
"Yes."
"But we're…"
"Yes."
He stared at her. She stared back. He blinked. She blinked.
"So… you're joking."
"Not at all," she chuckled again. "First things first. Technically, the word for people like you, Frederick and I is 'Adrift'."
"Adrift…" He thought for a moment. He was first generation, meaning that really, he should be older than Lucina or Gerome, who both seemed to be around the same age as he was. Same as Frederick, and now the girl in front of him. Then there was the memory loss, that she had said all of the Adrift suffered from. "Adrift… in time…? Is that what it is?"
As he asked, he felt incredibly foolish, but it was the only thing that came to mind that made even the slightest bit of sense. As her smile broadened, she nodded.
"Astute. Yes, you are correct. I'm not certain of the specifics, if all the Adrift are from the same timeline, or what have you. All we truly know is that, for some reason or another, the original Shepherds from the past timelines have been brought here," she said, rather nonchalantly as she settled back in her chair.
"So… is it all of the original Shepherds that have been brought here, or…?"
She shrugged lightly. "I think so. This happened for some reason or another, and Lucina seems to think that Naga was involved somehow. If this is a plan from a goddess, I would imagine that all of the Shepherds from various timelines would be cast Adrift, to wind up in this one. Whether they all reach here, though," her face darkened, "is a different question. They are all waking up in a hostile world with fogged memories. I believe all of the Shepherds are capable of fighting off Risen, but you've already seen what can come upon one out there, so I've been told."
"You're referring to the cleric, Libra?" She nodded, sullenly. "What… what was that?"
"...This is a world that has fallen to Grima. Grima, by his very essence, is corruption in its truest form. That is why the land outside of this mountain struggles to maintain life. Why ash falls from the sky, and pollutes all it touches. There are some who would… embrace the ash. Embrace the corruption. Not because of a lack of character, but because of the corrupting nature of Grima himself. Socalled "Embraced" lose sight of the person they were. Their mind, heart, soul, and very perception of reality are corrupted by the Fell God, leaving them as a shell of what they were. It is why it's so dangerous to travel alone for extended periods of time, outside of Risen. Only those with incredible mental and spiritual fortitude can resist the Embrace forever."
He took this in, a cold feeling clutching him. A rage, and a horrid guilt. "He… I killed him."
"Grima killed him," she corrected. "Everything he was had been twisted, polluted, and corrupted. The person he was had been dead for quite some time. 'Tis not your burden, Robin."
He recognized there was truth to his words, and yet, he couldn't push the feeling away completely.
"Perhaps, but I-" a loud banging noise from outside the cell cut him off.
"Wrap it up, miss," a gruff voice called, likely the guard. "If he's awake, he's about to have some visitors!"
The girl cursed beneath her breath. "Wish we had more time, but I suppose I should be grateful for the time we had," she sighed loudly, a tired look coming over her. "Robin, be careful. She has spared you, but I do not mistake that for kindness. Something stayed her hand. My only assumption can be that she sees you more valuable alive, rather than simply killing you."
With that, not waiting on a response, she stood to leave.
"Wait," he called. "Who are you, what's your name?"
She paused in front of the iron door for a moment, before turning to smirk.
"Tharja. I'm Tharja. Pleasure to meet you once again, Robin."
With that, the door opened. One person exited. Three entered.
Robin eyed his new visitors, immediately recognizing Lucina. She looked… tired. Moreso than yesterday. But to either side of her were people Robin had never seen before.
On her left, there was a girl with twin pigtails and red hair. She looked familiar, but not in a way that made him feel he had known her before. She had a perpetual scowl to her features, but there was an odd look in her eyes as they met his, deep red meeting ashen grey. Pity? Anger? Pain? Sadness? It was an odd mixture of them all.
To Lucina's right was a tall blond, who looked at him with a similar look that the redhaired girl possessed. He was familiar in the same kind of way. His face had worry and anxiety written all over it, though it seemed to ill fit his features, as though he was normally much more upbeat. He carried a blade that Robin instantly believed he had seen before, one that was unique. A katana, he believed.
Then his eyes settled on Lucina. Her cheek was bruised, and she looked like she hadn't slept, but otherwise, she seemed to be in good health. Her eyes were near blank, virtually impossible to get any emotion from, yet he knew she was studying him intensely.
She took the chair that Tharja had sat in before, her attendants standing at either side. For a moment, no words were spoken, until she leaned forward, slowly.
"Tell me, Fellblood. Why shouldn't I kill you?"
He blinked once. Twice.
"Tell me, Exalt. Why should you?"
His question seemed to surprise her, though only passingly. She leaned in closely, cerulean blue eyes never leaving his.
"Look around you. Look at the condition my people have been forced into. This is the destruction that you, Fellblood, have wrought upon this world." Her words were intense, yet her voice did not match. She spoke nearly monotone, injecting no emotion in what she said.
"I don't… I still don't know what I did," he said, frustrated. "Everyone dances around that part. Everyone. You say I destroyed the world, tell me. Exactly what did I do to bring us to this point?"
"You were the vessel for Grima."
Her words were no different in tone, but her attendants shuddered. Robin, however, was struck. Those words stirred something within him.
"I… see. 'Fellblood', and…" he pulled his glove off, looking at his Mark.
"Aye. The version of you from this world, this timeline, betrayed the Shepherds and merged with Grima. You murdered my… murdered the previous Exalt, and fell upon us with the armies of the undead before we could muster any defense," she spoke plainly, but he noticed that her voice nearly cracked when mentioning who he murdered.
So I killed Chrom, he realized. He, or the version of himself from this time, killed her father. Her hatred, it made more sense now. And if he truly did merge with an evil god, he could understand the hatred of Gerome and others as well. He finally fully comprehended why Frederick told him to never disclose what he was.
"I'm… I'm sorry-"
At this, she actually laughed; a harsh sound with no mirth.
"You drive humanity to the brink of extinction. You cast our kingdoms to ash and cinder. You blot out our skies, and steal from us our beloved. You destroy everything we hold dear, and would then deign to say you're 'sorry'?" She breathed, looking forward once more, no longer concealing her scathing hatred. "I've no need for your empty words, beast."
Her attendant, the blond, shifted. "Cousin, I-"
"I'm sorry, but the person that did that isn't me," Robin finished, cutting the blond off. "It was the version of myself from this time, from this world. One that had different experiences, one that had his whole life, unless he, too, was an amnesiac."
"He… he wasn't, actually," the blond mentioned. "Far as I knew, Robin always had his memories."
"And I don't. I remember next to nothing, so I'm essentially a blank slate"
"I've no reason to believe a word you utter, Fellblood," Lucina said. "It is entirely possible, likely even, that you mean to tear us asunder from the inside."
"Then why am I still alive?"
For the first time in this conversation, for the first time he had seen, she hesitated.
"To speak from a strictly pragmatic perspective, if you truly feel I am the same as the version of myself that destroyed the world, it makes no sense to keep me alive. I should be dead right now, yet I draw breath. Why? Why prolong this?" He asked, rising to his feet. "I know you could have ended me, several times now. What's stopping you?"
She rose to her feet as well, walking forward until she stood right before the iron bars. "Faith, Fellblood. Faith is the sole reason you draw breath. Naga brought forth the Adrift to this world for a reason. She brought you, as well. Whether it was as a test for my discernment, or because you could manage to be useful, that remains to be seen, but I have faith that there is a reason. 'Tis faith alone that stays my hand."
The two held eye contact, neither wavering. Robin understood, he had heard the voice of Naga already. He truly hoped, with everything within him, that his summons meant that maybe, just maybe, he could help. Perhaps he could find redemption for the version of himself that truly was evil.
"Then… you'll let me help where I can?" He ventured. She scoffed.
"Make no mistake, Fellblood, I've no trust in you. Knight Frederick has vouched for you, enough to invoke the Edict of Faith, but my trust for him does not equate to trust for you. There is much that remains to be seen, but in the meantime, you will be watched very closely. There will be a Praetorian near you at all times, to keep you in check. Should you step out of line, even once…" She let the threat hang. She didn't have to finish it.
"I… understand," he said, accepting that it was the best he could hope for.
"Good," she said, turning to leave. "You will be released later this week, Fellblood, and the Praetorian assigned to you will give you your tasks, and the work that needs doing."
As she exited, with no further words with her attendants following after, Robin found his voice enough to say something he had wanted to for the entire conversation.
"My name," he called, as she stopped, "is Robin. You can call me by my name."
She turned to him, her face utterly blank.
"Your name, Fellblood," she said emotionlessly, "is worth less than the breath it would take to speak it."