Happy birthday Lucina, and of course, happy anniversary to the game and series from which she hails! How's about some Robcina to celebrate?
Word count: 372 words.
Heroes Journey - Hearty Soup
Nifl's evening air is nothing if not persistent—cold, bitter, not as outwardly merciless as the blinding daytime squalls constantly ravaging the snow swept wastes, but just as menacing and two times as extreme.
Robin's coat is by no means a substitute for shelter, but it and the crackling bonfire they've stoked prove sufficient in staving off the elements—for the time being, at any rate.
"Hah," the tactician sighs, his breath coming out in puffs as he pulls away from the bowl. "Who would have guessed potatoes, carrots, and stock were all we needed to make bear meat edible?"
"Perhaps the cold has numbed your senses," Lucina joins him in a laugh cut short. "O-oh?"
"We've only the one bowl," Robin reminds her. "Here. It wouldn't do if I were to hoard it all, now would it?"
Fleeting fantasies of their lips meeting under the moonlight almost cause her to drop the broth entirely, but Lucina saves the transfer with little more than flustered cheeks that the steam can take blame for. "R-right!"
The soup itself is nothing short of heavenly, its taste practically emboldened by the cold. The stock, vegetables, even the bear meat—all coalescing into a savory warm embrace that envelops her from head to toe. The revitalizing heat and haze of it all conjures images of Robin partaking from the same bowl, which only pushes the princess further into the delirious inferno until not a single drop nor morsel is left.
"Lucina..." Robin calls to her, rather flustered himself.
"A-ah!" she starts. "F-forgive me! I was... I... ah...!"
"Perhaps I was mistaken in my earlier judgment," Robin chuckles, regaining himself. "It would seem you are the hoarder between us. To think that the princess of Ylisse would be such a fan of bear! It's almost too much to, well, bear!"
Lucina parts her lips to protest his jest, but the God of Ice spites her with a sharp and sudden gust of wintry wind that only draws them closer together, practically cradling each other. Her own fires already stoked by the stock, the warmth of her tactician's faintly scented coat, and Robin himself, Lucina finds herself stunned into speechlessness.
Setting up the tent will have to wait.