3. Soulmates
(Also known as, the requisite Soulmark AU. And also inspired by Stecayl's Shape By the Clearest Blue!)
She doesn't understand the marks on her body… Nor why she feels a need to keep them covered. Having them exposed to the air and eyes of others feels oddly uncomfortable. And since Robin never sees the other Shepherds displaying marks on their bodies, she has to assume the same is true for them.
It takes her well over a month, before she feels brave enough to ask about the phenomena… And from an unlikely source.
"Marks, you say?" Frederick raises an eyebrow at her, suspicion and surprise both warring on his face; like he's still half expecting her to pull some manner of trick or betrayal at the end of that question. Instead, Robin elaborates.
"I was just wondering if… If there's some sort of meaning to them-" She starts to pick at the gloves around her hands. Frederick stops the motion short by clapping his hand over hers; the jolt of contact is surprising enough, but what really halts her is the surprising gentleness in his grip. Frederick still has a frown on his face, but one marred by an odd, sympathetic look in his eyes.
"I apologize for my oversight; I thought that you knew." He tells her, before explaining.
It turns out she isn't the only one with such a mark. In fact, everyone in the Shepherds carries one… And showing that mark to another person is an intimate gesture of complete trust. Because there's a chance one's mark might match someone else's.
She's not sure how she feels about that; knowing there's another person out there she has such an affinity with. But now that she knows, she starts to see new details about the Shepherds. Lissa and Maribelle tend to brush their arms together. When she dares to ask Lissa, she's told that Lissa never had a brand or mark of her own, until she met Maribelle; and that having a matching mark between them helps to make up for a lack of anything she was born with. The slap Sully gives Stahl across his back takes on a different meaning, as does the way Stahl rolls his shoulders whenever he's trying to steady himself; the two of them seem more platonic than Maribelle and Lissa, but there's still an affection between them.
It makes her trace the mark on her hand… And wonder at the way it has changed.
The first time Chrom took his hand in hers, she'd seen the six eyes staring up. When Chrom saw them, his grip wavered for a moment. He's glanced to her hands a time or two, now covered by gloves. Now she understands why; between this and the bathing tent incidents, it's a wonder she doesn't turn completely red whenever they meet up.
But what really concerns her, is the faint tear drop shape encircling her mark. Lissa's case tells her new marks can develop, if someone meets their other half. But she still doesn't understand what that means… Or why that new shape on her hand looks oddly familiar.
-o-o-o-
Chrom hates having to cover his mark.
On the one hand, it's a sign of pride among the Ylissean royal line. Emmeryn has kept hers exposed for years, showing her trust in the people around her, and her own type of courage. It makes Chrom feel like a coward for having to cover his shoulder.
But he's never had much of a choice; not with how his mark changed when he was younger. At the time, he'd just meant to slip out of the castle, to find a little excitement. He'd gotten it when he bumped into a woman and her daughter in odd robes; the two had been skittish, the mother pulling her daughter away with a rushed apology and downcast eyes. When his father's men found him, it was when he was looking into his reflection in a fountain, sleeve pulled away and wondering when his brand had gained a faint splash of violet, and the impression of eyes.
His father had raged when he saw that change; ordered him to keep his mark covered at all times, no matter how he felt suffocated by so many layers of fabric. It was only when his father died, and his world shifted, that the mark started to fade.
It made Chrom wonder if his other half had died, somewhere in the campaign… Or if they were so distant now, he'd never have a chance of seeing them again. He started to wear clothing with more of his arm exposed-
Until a few months ago, when he found Robin laying in the field. It took some time for the mark to shift; weeks spent fighting at Robin's side, shielding her from harm, wondering at the odd surge of protectiveness he felt when she threw herself into danger, or the brief swell of pride when they both emerged from a skirmish, side by side.
It was when he found himself wanting to throw his arms around her, that his shoulder had given an odd twinge. And he saw the hint of eyes, like they were opening back up along his skin.
Chrom looks over his mark in the tent again, and the flicker of violet etched into his shoulder. His father had called it 'unclean' and treated him like…
He doesn't want to dwell on it. Instead, he looks over the faint suggestion of eyes… And wonders, at how they look like the same mark on Robin's hand. And if he's just imagining the similarity between her robes, and those of the strangers from his childhood.
A part of him desperately wants to ask… But a part of him fears seeing that same disgusted look on her face, like his father once wore. He can't take the chance of being mistaken. Or of impinging on Robin's personal matters even more.
'Isn't it enough that she caught a glimpse of your mark in the bath? Gods, it's a wonder she doesn't see you as a degenerate.' He sighs out… And tries not to dwell, or hold onto a fool's hope. That maybe it's only his imagination, that there'd been such a striking and memorable quality to her mark… And a similar shade of violet, to the thing twisting across his shoulder.
-o-o-o-
"There's something I need to show you." Robin can't believe the words, even as she speaks them. But she's spent most of the day finding her courage. And there's something about the moonlight tonight, and the glimpse of Ylisstol on the horizon, that makes her bold; they're returning to a new home, one that Chrom has ensured she feels welcomed in.
It feels like the least she can do, is return the trust he's extended to her.
Chrom blinks at her, from his spot at the fire. Most of the camp has either gone to bed, or decided to celebrate in the meal tent. It leaves the two of them alone, and Robin carefully takes a seat beside Chrom. She can feel him tense up beside her, and that makes her own courage falter for an instant.
"Is… That alright?" She finds herself asking. And then blabbering. "If this isn't a good time for you, then perhaps-"
"It's fine!" He yelps, almost like the fire has somehow reached out and burned him. His breath audibly rushes in and out, as he takes a deep lungful of air to steady himself. "I-I admit, I've just been… Thinking."
And sometimes scurrying away from her, Robin knows. She's seen that often enough, when she's tried to talk to him. She dares to voice that thought out loud, and sees him freeze.
"I… I don't mean to accuse you of anything. It's just that there's been something I've needed to ask you about. And I haven't had the opportunity to… Is there something wrong? Or something I've done wrong?" There's still formalities she doesn't understand; customs that make her wonder if she ever knew much about Ylisse. She remembers how Frederick clamped his hand over hers, before she could make another error.
"If I've caused offense, then-"
"N-no! You haven't done anything wrong, it's just…" He wavers for a moment; she can see indecision play it out in his face and tense up in his body, as he tries to figure out whether to draw away from her or stay put. It lasts only a spit second, before he slumps forward. "…It's just that I've been a coward."
It's the last thing she expects him to say, and he must read the surprise on her face.
"I… I've been realizing something, over the past few months. And also realized I owe you an apology. When I first saw you, I didn't realize I was looking at your mark. Or what it meant."
"Frederick said people don't normally display their marks." Heat builds in Robin's face, rivaling that of the fire.
"Unless they have a lot of confidence in themselves, or to show people something of themselves." His hand goes to his shoulders, now covered in bandages; when Robin first saw it, she'd been half worried he'd taken on an injury. Only now does she realize he might be hiding something, as well. "I used to be proud of my mark. Until people told me it had changed into something… Unclean. Something Plegian. I never understood what they meant, because it looked right to me. And now I…"
He trails off, giving her a steady look, even as pink spreads across his face. His fingers shake as his hand goes up to undo the bandages, letting them fall away a little. Robin sees the flash of violet and blue underneath them… And knows exactly what she's looking at.
It's mirrored on her own hand, beneath the heavy gloves she wears, and that hand goes up to catch Chrom's fingers.
"Wait a moment." He freezes under his touch, fear of rejection showing clear across his face. Robin doesn't let that hurt look take over Chrom's expression, instead guiding his hand to hers.
"I… I told you there was something I wanted to show you, remember?" He's only able to nod at that, and make a slightly startled sound in the back of his throat. He gives her a bewildered look, almost frozen from the contact.
Robin turns her hand around, letting his thumb rest in the palm of her hand. The contact steadies her for a moment, as her other hand goes up to tug at the fingers of her glove… Only for Chrom to move his fingers up, clasping and twining with hers to interrupt the motion.
She meets his eyes for a moment, sees how his throat pulses with how fast and nervous his breathing has gone. He swallows once, giving her a desperate look, to see if he's gone too far. Instead, Robin finds herself nodding, and lets him tug at the fingers of her gloves, slowly lifting the fabric away and showing her skin.
Showing the mark underneath. The violet and blue is brilliant in the firelight… And it halts Chrom's breath. His fingers hover over hers for an instant, as understanding dawns on his face. His fingers touch against hers, followed by the palm of his hand. Then his hands close fully over hers, fingers intwining.
"I hope that mark is something you can be proud of?" Robin asks him, in a hushed voice.
His answer is throwing his arms around her, and holding her tight against him. They stay that way through the rest of the night, trading stories about their marks, the awkward glances from the baths… And what little they can remember of the past. And if Robin can't recall everything, then Chrom does an excellent job of giving her new memories and understandings of their marks.
And when the night grows too dark… They aren't in a hurry to go to bed alone, walking to Chrom's tent together. And their fingers never leave the others, Chrom brushing over Robin's mingled mark like it's a lifeline, and the most beautiful sight in all of Ylisse.