It's been over a year since I first submitted this (and my other fic!), so I'm very glad to have this somewhat back on track. I'm barely starting my fourth trimester of uni - the filter period is still not done, and what's worse is that this is the "trimester from hell", so again, I apologise for inconsistency in updating. However, I won't take over a year to add new chapter though!
That being said, I received lovely reviews and feedback in the last chapter - thank you to everyone who read and reviewed! I'm happy that this is garnering some interest, and I'm very glad for all the advice and kind words. I'll keep them in mind as I continue to write and improve, so that I'm able to learn from more seasoned writers and also remember that I've brought enjoyment to some readers.
Many thanks to drunkdragon and varietyshow for helping me shape this chapter up!
"Daraen," Chrom repeated, the pleasant, friendly smile growing on his face, "is that foreign?"
There was a beat of silence before Lissa doubled over again, her blonde pigtails and sides shaking with a peal of laughter so forceful that she was inaudible. The guardsmen who had their pikes pointed at Robin and Gregor started to chuckle before Frederick shamed them into silence and forced their backs straight with a glance. It took Chrom a bit longer to realise his mistake, and he gave a quiet titter as his ears and cheeks were tinged scarlet.
"I – that is to say –" he began before an awkward speechlessness overtook him, and the young prince waited impatiently for Lissa to finish with her mockery of him before anyone could continue.
Robin found the scene rather jarring and not quite what she expected of the scions of Ylisse; however odd, it endeared them more to her all the same.
The soft rustling of the dogwood blossoms in the breeze broke the princess out of her fit and she quieted down before the entry was permeated with an air of expectancy. All eyes were on Chrom now, and he cleared his throat with a pointed glare at his sister before speaking once more.
"We are very pleased to have you here with us, your Highness," he intoned with a formal bow of the head, and Robin and Gregor reciprocated with a deeper bend of the waist in the hopes of alleviating the force of Frederick's stare. Chrom was a bit taken aback at their formality, given Robin's status, but went on.
"On behalf of the land of Ylisse and the furthest reaches of Naga's dominion, we extend our deepest thanks to you and hope that our time together results in many long years of peace and friendship to come," Chrom finished, pleased that his long hours of practice resulted in an acceptable statement, even if it was somewhat ruined by his initial blunder and Lissa poking fun at him for it.
Robin smiled, thankful for their polite reception, and tried to improvise an appropriate response.
"I – We most humbly thank you for your acceptance of our presence, and…beg you forgive our tardiness. We did not mean it so, and express our deepest shame for it. We…marvel at Ylisse's generosity, its nobility, and share your sentiments," she remarked cautiously, and was reassured by Gregor nodding along in agreement and encouragement.
"Great! So that settles it!" Lissa clapped her hands excitedly, turning to Chrom with a relieved expression. "We can go inside now, right? Let's get some rest, change into something nicer, get some water and then we can finally start everything!"
"Yes, let's," Chrom sighed, motioning to a pair of sentries to open the doors. As most of the guards moved back to their posts at the gate, Chrom, Robin and Lissa eagerly drank in the rush of cool air that escaped the hall and advanced toward it; but before Robin could step any further, an armoured hand was clapped over her shoulder and spun her into a sharp turn, forcing her eyes up into meeting Frederick's cold gaze.
"Frederick!" Lissa gasped, scandalised at his open disrespect, and while Gregor shouted and strained against the men tugging him back, Chrom seemed too shocked to form a single word.
"How did you get past the controls at the bridge?" the Great Knight pressed, signalling some of the surprised soldiers to fan out towards the walls and the rest of the ward (as if we had the time to bring assassins with us, Robin thought).
"Or the city gates, for that matter?" he leaned in uncomfortably close.
"It's alright Gregor," Robin placed a hand over the seething captain's arm before facing Frederick. She reminded herself not to appear too calm lest she further arouse the man's paranoia, yet also to avoid an outright confrontation.
"We have the necessary documentation that His Highness's office provided," Robin answered carefully, as she slipped out the sheaf of papers from between her belts and overcoat and thrusted them into Frederick's hand with a pointed look.
"And yet you still managed to bowl my men over rather than going over these with them."
I have to credit him at least with how hard he is trying to trip us up, Robin noted, hoping that the Arcwind tomes she had hidden in their clothes had disintegrated completely on their way up to the castle.
"Forgive me for my words, but I would have done that ten times over it if meant arriving earlier. I still find it hard to forgive myself for our tardiness."
"Be as it may, it does not change the fact that you came almost a full two weeks after everyone else, and that there are protocols in place that we cannot stray from enforcing," Frederick remarked stiffly, curling his thumbs into her robe.
"Frederick, please," Lissa groaned, her eyes darting nervously between the assembly and the opened doorway. "We can take care of that inside – please, let's not humiliate him…"
Robin threw off her coat and tossed it unceremoniously to Gregor, who was barely able to catch it after having to have shrugged off the guardsmen's holds over him. A bright red sunburn marking Robin's white skin was revealed – Chrom's breath hitched at the sight. After she tugged off the pair of bronze swords sheathed to her hips and dumped them into Frederick's arms, she bent over and started working simultaneously on pulling off her bolero and boots.
"That's enough," Chrom heaved Robin up to her feet and shepherded her and Lissa into the shadow of the doorframe. "We've no need for that, not when it's keeping us from our schedules. And besides," he added, turning to his knight, "didn't you mention a visit to the infirmary? It certainly looks as though our guest needs it," he mentioned sternly.
"Of course," Frederick assented, and Robin sighed inwardly at how close they were to discovering her when they had barely arrived at the castle. She was to keep her guard up at all times and make sure that even the slightest possibility of detection was to remain strictly hypothetical.
It was a lonely, paranoid thought. Lonelier still was Gregor watching her from within the circle of guardsmen, and his plaintive eyes seemed to age him a decade more; when he caught her staring he grinned widely and waved, as though everything was fine and their goodbye was but an afterthought.
"He'll…he'll be alright, won't he?" Robin murmured morosely, alternating between worrying her lip and her rumpled shirt with calloused fingers.
"Oh, he will! We'll see to it that he's all set up for the evening. Right, Frederick?" Lissa prodded insistently at their attendant's armour-clad side.
"We can prepare suitable quarters for him in the gatehouse, milady," was his curt answer, and Robin was irritated at his refusal to address her as well.
"That's good…I uh, need him well rested for a missive to be sent tomorrow," Robin muttered lamely, and managed a quick, sad flick of her wrist to Gregor before the image of him being led down from the steps was blocked out by the creaking doors being pushed closed. Lissa pressed her hand into the small of Robin's back and steered her past the threshold and into the cool hall, with Frederick and Chrom following close behind.
Her sense of foreboding grew, and yet was somehow balanced out by what she felt was inappropriately timed excitement.
Lissa filled in the silence by cheerily pointing out certain details of their space: the pale, creamy yellow-brown limestone used in the castle's construction, the red carpet occupying most of the floor – apparently only used when receiving foreign dignitaries, otherwise it was blue, Lissa explained – the torch brackets designed in the appearance of wyverns spouting flames. Robin listened politely to her spiel but watched Chrom and Frederick out of the corner of her eye. The former seemed to be lecturing the knight on something, with said man nodding along at certain intervals. She quickly faced forward as soon as they caught up and flanked them, Frederick a pace behind. Certainly impressive was the size of the passage; it seemed possible that two soldiers riding abreast could fit in comfortably.
"It must be a pretty important message if you can't keep him here with you, is it? And, um, I hope I'm not being rude by asking this, but does it have anything to do with you showing up by yourself?" Lissa questioned innocently. Chrom saved Robin from having to reply by sandwiching himself between the girls and cutting across his sister.
"We can ask him later, Lis. Right now we should focus on getting cleaned up before we head to our stations. Doesn't a great big pitcher of ice water sound nice?" he pressed, his eyes sliding towards Robin in a conspiratorial wink.
"Oh, that sounds divine!" Lissa sighed longingly. Robin remained cautiously silent, but mouthed thank you to her host. Whatever his future intentions, he was trying awfully hard to be welcoming and ingratiating, and for that she was grateful.
As the doors opened to reveal a spacious cloister filled with the gurgle of a fountain spilling precious water from the draconic jaws of its spouts, the princess flagged down an available page without breaking stride – Robin was reminded of joyful flurries of snow from the feverish speed of her signal. The servant (no more than a boy really) gawped in open astonishment at the sight of the moon shining back at him in the sun: not the product of his mother's scolding if he refused to be put to bed at night, but in the form of an exotic, unknown visitor. Frederick's shortly worded dismissal broke the child's stare, and off he went, whizzing up a staircase waiting behind the colonnade.
If the mutters and gestures that sprouted up from the lips of the few people milling about the stony walkways were daunting, then the thought of hundreds of judgemental, gossiping tongues waiting for her within the castle walls was beyond nerve wracking.
Here she would not only be tested, but her very abilities and endurance would be placed into question. Years of training and pain could be undone by a single misstep –
Stop being so melodramatic, you stupid girl, Robin's inner voice snapped as they approached the keep, an additional set of guards poised to ready their entry.
You've gotten this far…you can't turn back now, so you might as well brace yourself for whatever there is to come. A fitting statement, she considered anxiously, for the very moment the mighty oaken panels were pushed forward with a deafening groan, and the trio ushered into the vestibule.
The sumptuous carpet reappeared, taking on the hue of jewelled pomegranates as the fabric and space surrounding it were drenched in warm, buttery sunlight. It streamed through windows that almost dominated the entirety of the left wall, with suits of armour belonging to heroes past glaring down from pedestals spaced between them. Corbels in the shape of pegasi supported a beautifully carved hammer beam ceiling, where the colours of Valm, Plegia, Regna Ferox and Ylisse fluttered and vied for space. And, at the very end, more flowing tracery was featured on a set of golden rosewood doors with a sort of viewing balcony sitting on them; an immense bronze of the goddess Naga rested at its middle, with the Katarine window behind it creating an aureole that sent splinters and splashes of blue and green light dancing throughout.
The general effect was nothing short of awe-inspiring, and Robin was too caught up in her amazement to continue her moody train of thought. She was no stranger to grandeur herself, but it was impossible to not appreciate the majesty of such a place.
However, as all good things are wont to do, the moment came to an abrupt end as she was made aware of the silence.
Then the whispers came.
Though she was walking with Chrom and Lissa, and had experience in the dealings of the previous Plegian court (little better than a scorpion pit, in her opinion), Robin was still unnerved by the kind of thoughts the courtiers and servants expressed right in front of them.
"He's much scrawnier than I had imagined," an elderly nobleman pointed out to his companion.
"I thought he was much older than this," a haughty young lady dissolved into a fit of giggling with her posse of brown nosers.
"He looks very dirty," a little maidservant remarked disdainfully, and a footman shushed her with a nervous hiss.
Robin snuck a surreptitious sniff of her shoulder, unsurprised to find that she did indeed smell like a stable. But what could she do? She had to stuff her robes into the saddlebags to avoid being stopped on the road, and riding fast and hard had excluded any baths. Poor, sweet Gregor had failed to remember that a "few day's travel" was in fact much longer than that, and to make up for lost time they spent most of the days and nights on the move. The rag she had used to disguise her distinctive hair and protect her face from the sun was currently stuffed down her shirt to flatten her already small breasts, and it contributed to her overall sweatiness.
Chrom, previously very pleased to see Robin marvelling at his castle, frowned at the rudeness of his court; he itched to chastise them publicly, but figured it would embarrass Daraen and offend the more powerful among them, as annoying as it was to admit.
He had Frederick though, and it helped when the man turned his signature glare on the loudest of the bunch, creating temporary waves of quiet wherever he passed. Chrom made a grand show of slipping his arm over the prince's shoulder and pulling him close, offering him bits of trivia of his house:
"Did you know that it took almost a century for the builders to finish just this hall?"
"The carpet is almost entirely made out of Themian wool, the best of its kind!"
"Do you know why it's called a Katarine window?"
So on and so forth, with Lissa chiming in occasionally until they exited and a swell of sound grew right behind them.
They all continued with their idle chatter and pleasantries, with the siblings making approving remarks wherever Robin admired the scenery, until they reached a dark doorway on the second floor.
"Oh, Lis, there you are!"
A lanky young man with neatly combed auburn hair and wearing the steel-blue cape and hat of an Ylissean Sage jogged to them and clasped Lissa's hands within his own. The princess laughed and pressed a kiss to his fingers before his eyes met Robin's and he looked her up and down with a wary face.
"So he's arrived huh? I'm Ricken. It's a pleasure to meet your Highness," the man bowed deeply. Robin tried to reciprocate but ended up butting heads due to their proximity, and Chrom failed to stifle a grin.
"I'm so sorry for that!" Robin patted the lad's shoulder before remembering that she didn't know him and snatched back her hand awkwardly. Ricken's expression turned from cautious to amused, and he laughed.
"No, if anything I should be apologising! I shouldn't have stood so close to your Highness," he bowed again and Lissa rolled her eyes fondly at him. Ricken elbowed her playfully and the young lady was about to retaliate before Chrom coughed pointedly.
"Oh! Right, right," Ricken muttered and he too cleared his throat, with an air of importance.
"The ladies prepared some couches for you all and I've asked Thomas to get some water. I sent Bartram to the kitchens to let them know of your Highness's arrival," another respectful nod in Robin's direction, "and Mary told me the rooms are all set."
"Thank you Ricken," Chrom murmured appreciatively and Lissa beamed proudly up at him.
At the same time the doors were thrown open rather roughly, and a fat, one-eyed crone eyed them critically from within the frame.
"About bloody time," she gathered them all into the infirmary and a younger nurse hurried to close the entry with a softer touch.
While Robin busied herself with admiring the pretty and well – lit space – she especially liked how the fanned vaults resembled dragon wings – Chrom, Lissa and Ricken sat themselves on the pale velvet green chairs, Frederick keeping a watchful eye a few steps away.
She joined them shortly after noticing the few patients in the wing were peeking at her from under their sheets. The same little servant boy from before carried a tray bearing a pitcher with ice fetched straight from the cellars, and small silver cups formed a charming little circle around it.
"Thank you Thomas," Robin gave the child a small grin as she accepted her cup, and gulped down the cold drink with the force of a thirsty camel. Thomas's staring was interrupted by his tiny laugh, but the head nurse's glance in his direction sent him scurrying away, embarrassed, into the arms of a uniformed lady with the same ginger hair as him.
Chrom smiled fondly at the boy before inquiring, "We hope everything is to your liking so far. Is there anything that we may be able to provide for you? Hungry? Still thirsty?" The prince swept his arm as though offering the entire room.
At that moment, Robin understood the full extent of his naiveté towards the situation.
"Treating that sunburn should be the first on the list," the matron announced, setting down an assortment of ointments and elixirs as the nurses bustled around them with moistened cloths.
"Luella, you take care of his Highness," she pushed a thin, skittish looking girl towards Robin. The poor thing was totally silent as she wet a folded towel. Deciding that she too would be quiet – if it meant not scaring the nurse any more than she already was – Robin watched as she smeared a microscopic amount of ointment and crushed witch hazel on the cloth.
Chrom and Lissa watched closely.
The tension was somewhat cut by the full absurdity of the nurse's behaviour – every time her hand came close to the Plegian's burnt arm, her frightened hum would grow louder, only for her to snatch her hand back and repeat the process again.
Lissa stifled a nervous titter and Chrom frowned.
"Oh, get on with it girl," the old woman growled as she bodily removed the nurse and saw to Robin's burn herself. "He ain't gonna bite ye," the woman scrubbed the red skin briskly, and while her's wasn't the gentlest of treatment, it got the job done well enough: the pain receded and her normal colour began to show.
"I'm sorry –" Luella began.
"Bandage duty," her mistress replied, and the girl let out a sob as her colleagues coaxed her over to a cabinet at the far end of the room.
Before another uncomfortable hush could settle over them, Robin addressed the old woman. "Your treatment is very much appreciated. I am very glad to have been in your capable hands."
"T'ain't nothin' but my obligation." She repacked her small burn kit with a flourish and walked back to the cabinet to hand it over to the ashamed Luella for storage.
"We apologise for this –" Chrom began, his voice leaking a bit of desperation as Ricken stood to talk quietly to one of the nurses for a beat.
"It's nothing!" Robin reassured. "Really. You've all been so kind to me in the little time we've known each other – and it's really no trouble at all. In…in fact…I daresay that I'd rather we drop the formalities. You can just call me R – Daraen."
Chrom brightened considerably at that; Robin was thoroughly amused when he visibly straightened up in his seat. "Really? Ah, well then, you can call me –"
"Absolutely not," Frederick scowled from his place behind Chrom. Robin wanted to laugh at how Lissa and Ricken jumped at the sound of his voice, but was too unnerved by the speed at which he'd reached the couch from the door.
"High rank or not, foreign dignitaries are to observe protocol at all times as befitting milord's house. You are to refer to him as 'Your Grace' at all times."
"Oh, that's laying it on too thick, and in your case that's saying something Frederick," Lissa snapped. Her big blue eyes glittered with barely restrained annoyance. "Nobody will care if we forget about the stupid protocol for a moment! And besides, Chrom's not Exalted yet anyways—"
"That'll do Lissa," the man muttered.
The sullen hush returned to the atmosphere. Robin was sorely tempted to try and say something – anything – that could at least get them talking again. And yet, her guilt at not being in the castle for a day and already causing trouble for her hosts kept her mute and curled up within herself.
It was Ricken who saved them.
"I…uhhh…oh, would you just look at the time? It's gotten so late that I can smell food already! Everyone must already be at the Hall by now, so we should hurry up and join them, huh?" he laughed a little too loudly.
Chrom blinked dumbly when he heard that, but in the short time that it took for him to process it he was lifted out of his displeasure and his seat. "Oh…yes! Right. Food. Supper." He cleared his throat importantly and turned to the staring nurses.
"Ladies! We are very grateful for your attentions, but we must take our leave. We thank you kindly and, er, hope to see you soon at the banquet."
The women barely had any time to reply to their lord before he was out the doors in a speedy walk, with Lissa, Ricken, Frederick and Robin tagging along behind. She almost missed little Thomas's wave goodbye.
Chrom's panic over the possibility of arriving late to his own feast was palpable, and Robin thought that his urgency would compel him into a run. Her guilt doubled over the lengths he had to go not only to keep her comfortable in the short time she had spent there, but also to appease his subjects and other guests to keep everything on schedule.
"Do you know what you're going to wear?" Lissa panted as they turned a corner sharply and nearly upset a servant's tray.
"You know that I've got everything picked out since the week before, why ask now?"
"It's because it's so weird for you to be so well organised!"
"Very funny Lissa, just keep making fun of me in front of Daraen like that."
"Does your Highness know what to wear now too?" Ricken asked as they slowed to a stop in front of a solid, slate blue door. A detachment of guards, previously idling in the contiguous hallway, ran over immediately and bowed when they caught sight of Chrom and Frederick.
"Er…about that…" Robin began.
"You didn't bring any clothes." While Chrom didn't say it maliciously, it was still shameful to hear it being said at all. Robin nodded, mortified.
"And—and – you didn't bring your people either!" Lissa sounded very concerned, and her small hands clasped over Robin's beseechingly. "What happened?"
"Surely you would not believe it due to some woe of his, milady?" Frederick's iron-hard glare latched onto Robin's face. "This smells of a trap."
"Frederick." The toughness of Chrom's voice matched Frederick's unyielding stare. "Ask Mary to fetch my summer clothes – the older ones, not the silk. And have Rood and Karel here for the night shift."
Frederick didn't argue, but his gaze remained steely. "At once milord." Before he could leave, presumably to the prince's quarter's, Chrom leaned in for the slightest of moments before he was off. We will continue this conversation later was its clear meaning.
Eyes darting nervously between Chrom and Frederick's rapidly receding figure, Ricken bowed. "I best be readying myself too. I'll see you in a bit Lissa. Chrom, your Highness," he bowed again and took off at a slight jog with a small wave.
Chrom pursed his lips and shook his head in exasperation, watching Ricken for a quiet moment. "I beg your forgiveness," he said, turning to Robin with a stricken look. "He's a good man…he's never quite this rude. Please, don't think ill of him."
Or us, Robin understood.
"Don't worry so much on my behalf. I've no great expectations for kindness," she raised her hand lightly when it looked like Chrom and Lissa wanted to protest, "nor will I begrudge those who would refuse it. I have no right to demand it in the first place."
"That's not true…" Lissa whimpered.
To hear her speak so sincerely provoked a wounded smile from Robin; she held the blonde's hands gently.
"Perhaps. But to hear such words, and have such kindness shown to me is all I could ask from you. Please, don't trouble yourselves over what you cannot hope to have under control."
Robin drew back and allowed the guards to open the door to her quarters for her. "I think I should probably hurry myself – can't come any later than I already have," she tried to joke, her smile dropping slightly when the siblings didn't reply.
The only indication Chrom gave to being upset was the tightening of his jaw. Gazing intently at Robin for some moments, he later bowed stiffly and turned to leave with the squeak of his boots. Lissa struggled in his grip and whined about staying longer, but then huffed and waved sulkily goodbye.
"We hope to see you soon then." His blue eyes betrayed his worry, his meddlesome desire to press the issue further…his clear intention to disregard her reassurances.
If not a prince, then every bit a chivalrous lord. Anyone else would have called him a damned fool for openly displaying such naiveté and candour, and while Robin was more than inclined to agree, it was precisely those qualities that made her decide that, so far, she liked him immensely.
Turning to enter her apartments, what she found was overall very pleasing: half-timbered walls covered with a dusty rose daub; a dark panelled ceiling and wall behind a handsome four poster within snug within a navy blue coverlet and curtains; basic necessities like an armoire and washstand next to the bed, a writing desk, and a chest of drawers; a window – with real glass in it! Robin thought – and other charming touches like a tapestry depicting a forest scene and a masterfully carved fireplace.
To her left, she glimpsed of what she assumed was a sort of sitting room, and the door on the right was closed. There were, surprisingly, a number of Plegian details scattered about: faience from the Gwelo river region, a puzzle-box from Khoramshar lying on the desk, brass and coloured glass lamps from the capital.
Everything was, of course, in varying shades of blue, green and yellow. Lissa struck her as more of the decorating type than Chrom, and her thoughtfulness was very touching.
She suspected that the servants assigned to her were handpicked specifically for their open-mindedness, as a grandmotherly lady removed her coat with a warm smile. Though she supposed it was a tad ridiculous to assume they would run screaming at the sight of her, Robin remembered the way the people in the halls sneered.
Before she was able to enter the washroom to freshen up, strong knocking at the door drew her out of her thoughts. Opening it revealed Frederick's dour face and him holding assorted books balanced over neatly folded clothes. Mary the housekeeper stood next to him with a bemused expression.
"Milord sends these and bids you wear them for the evening," he placed them carefully in Robin's arms, "I've taken the liberty of compiling certain texts on etiquette to assist you during your stay; heavens know you need them."
"How considerate of you. If not for your efforts then I am certain I would be completely lost," Robin ground out, her servants sniggering at Frederick's expense.
Amazingly, her sarcasm flew right over the knight's head. He straightened up, surprised, but then gave a curt nod. "But of course. I live to serve and milord's household takes great care with hospitality." A pause. He looked at her strangely. "If there is something you require, do not hesitate to call upon me."
"Will do," Robin said drily, and allowed him to shut the door.
Her ladies clucked and fussed as they herded her into the washroom. "How much of that were his actual words, or milord Chrom's, d'you bet?" they inquired, drawing hot water into the tub.
"I can't quite tell myself, but do I hope he gets better at understanding human speech," she replied, and the maids laughed heartily.
"I'll take those milord," a younger lady stretched her hands out towards the clothes.
Robin blanched, but masked her brief alarm with politeness. "Oh. Um. I'd rather dress myself…I hope you don't mind. I'm rather accustomed to it." She scrambled for more excuses. "I had expected you would assist me with the hearth instead. Ylisse is much chillier than I had expected."
"If your Highness says so," the women said, sharing a confused look. They curtsied gracefully and shut the door with a click.
Robin surveyed the bathroom appreciatively. The floor was tiled beautifully and held such sundries like a cabinet for the requisite powders and pomades, along with a few chests, drawers, and hooks for hanging towels. Another latticed window featured frosted glass and a grate to let the steam out (it was very odd to her that bathrooms here had windows in the first place). The real treasure was the tub, copper with clawed toes and a sturdy faucet, very unlike the rickety thing back at the inn. It was lined in soft cotton and the water's steam curled enticingly.
She sighed in exhaustion and wriggled out of her grimy, crusty clothing, scrubbing out the dirt from her body with the wonderfully scented soap (not like that lye monstrosity in Southtown, but beeswax and lily). She indulged in a brief soak while flipping through some of the books, and while she was right to expect the usual amount of idiocy, she had to admit there were several bits that she was better off learning.
When she was done and smelt more closely like a proper human than she did a horse, she inspected the finery Chrom sent: parti-coloured hose, soft leather shoes and linen chemise, as well as a gorgeous saffron yellow doublet and jerkin that she knew would clash horribly with her pasty complexion; slashing to reveal emerald silk on the sleeves completed the ensemble and she marvelled at it.
Pulling the bandages she had snatched from the sick ward tightly around her chest, a sudden thought occurred to her that made her reconsider future dressing procedures:
Does this mean I should stuff?
Sprinting down the halls while trying to get a hold of her too big clothes – the only reason the hose stayed on was because she had pulled them up all the way to her chest – Robin had the distinct feeling that she was being followed.
"Sir – Sir! Your Highness!" the valets cried.
Oh. Right.
They skidded to a stop and, most indecorously so, pulled her behind a column.
"What's all this now?" Robin asked, trying to tamp down a spike of panic when the men pulled open her coat and fiddled with her shoes.
"Your Lordship left before we could make some," the blonde huffed as he stuffed some rags between her toes and heel, "much needed adjustments."
"Some last minute adjustments," his greying companion added as he packed more cloth into her sleeves and (carefuldon'tlethimtouchthere!) around her back.
"We shall ask the Lady Mary for additional clothes," the boy straightened up her collar. "And the seamstresses shall be sent for."
Robin squirmed away from their touch, ran back when she realised she had been rude and bowed awkwardly to them before heading into the throne room. The valets shared a confused look.
"Odd lad," the elder of the pair said.
"Throne room" was a bit of a misnomer due to its size, Robin mused. It seemed more appropriate to call it an audience hall, especially considering the fact that the entire court (or most of it, anyways) seemed to be present. Her attempts to enter unobtrusively were ruined by the loud fanfare that announced her arrival, and she tried not to look sheepish as she joined the other three ambassadors at the foot of the throne dais.
She heard whispers all through her walk down the nave, around a large brazier, and she figured she might as well start getting used to it.
Basilio was impossible to not recognise, even with the purple trim of the prætor's toga replacing his tight battle gear. The other two men she had never before seen; Robin assumed that the stunning blonde was Valmese due to his blood red garb and cold gaze, leaving the severe looking middle-aged man to be Rosannois.
"You may now rise," Chrom's surprisingly mature sounding voice rang with an echo.
Like the other three she had kept her head respectfully down, but looking up surprised her. Gone were the practical looks the siblings bore earlier, replaced with expensive fabrics and regal bearings: Lissa's hair was swept up into a snood lined with pearls, and long pearl necklaces trailed down her sunny yellow gown. Chrom provided a stark contrast, most of his clothes a cloudy black excepting his stormy blue jerkin. Silver clocking was featured on his hose and a heavy silver chain bearing the nation's crest rested over his heart. Had she not spoken to them but hours ago, she would have pictured the stern and wise rulers that storybooks favoured.
Robin thankfully caught herself staring and avoided embarrassment. She waited patiently until the other three had crossed up to the platform with the royal pair to kiss the star sapphire on Chrom's finger. Disgusted by the thought that a surely ancient relic had the saliva of hundreds (or – horrors – thousands) all over it, she opted instead to brush her lips over his hand. She didn't dare raise her eyes but the way the prince squeezed her fingers in a quiet reply was reassuring, and she rejoined the others behind him.
Now they waited until a procession of eight robed men walked to the platform from the hall's entrance. Robin wondered if the way the banners hung from the columns indicated their order of appearance: a flaming torch, a sword, a sheaf of wheat, a flowering branch; two birds, a triskelion, a quill and chisel, and a plough and fish hook.
When they too had finished salivating over their sovereign, they lined themselves next to the ambassadors. Before she could fully study them to judge who presented the biggest threat, the din stilled as Chrom motioned for silence. An air of anticipation rose to fill the void.
"Cousins," he began, "friends. Honoured guests. We thank you all for your presence this evening. For the next months you bear witness to a historic and truly magnificent event. This is the first time in more than three centuries that the leaders of our worlds' great nations stand together, in this hallowed ground. Yet the historicity of this is not what matters. Rather, that we stand to make a difference. To be a guiding light in these dark times."
He paused for effect before continuing.
"War is a scourge. War takes and never returns, no matter how hard we may pray, how far we may run, or how long we may fight. These years have been hard on us, and to deny the people respite would be to condemn them to misery and suffering. To deny the world a cease would be callous and senseless, and the only thing we would have achieved would be the same results as our fathers."
Robin noticed several in the hall and the gallery above shifting uncomfortably at that.
"The very meaning of the word 'freedom' suggests the absence of pain and want. As we are now, we have the power and the strength to achieve that freedom for everyone's sake. Our children, and their children's children need not know the horrors of fear and loss. For we have all lost, and it is with that understanding that we need to strive towards a greater good. We cannot continue to cloak ourselves within suspicion and intolerance and expect any good from it. All peace is borne from trust, leadership and the initiative to compromise.
Emmeryn understood this better than anyone," his voice lowered, conveying the depth of his mourning to his audience. "Emmeryn's entire life's work was dedicated to the good of the country. She was willing to reach above and beyond for those in need. Her compassion compelled her to sacrifice her very life out of her love for us and her love of others. It is our hope that we can continue this legacy of hers and assure that her efforts were not in vain."
Chrom bowed his head to signify a moment of silence, and there was a ready compliance from all with the exception of a baby's cry. The anticipation had sobered into something sadder.
Robin's heart panged with the empathy of loss…and the deepest of guilt.
She took the opportunity to discreetly glance around: the second oldest of the men looked incredibly sorrowful. The youngest looked bored and was picking his nails but straightened up immediately when the quiet ended.
"She did not believe that faith, charity and hope were unattainable ideals. She did not believe that freedom and peace were half-and-half affairs. She knew that nations can fall, but the bravery and determination of a few can be enough to hold up even the weakest of foundations. It will not do to only remember her and those before her as martyrs, but as inspirations to push through with our goals. I come forth not as an Exalt, nor a sovereign, but a man like any other who understood what it is she fought for. And as a man like any other, I alone cannot hope to achieve a vision of this magnitude alone. I call on you to help me plant this seed, to spark this flame, and nurture it with care; for Naga herself looked upon the land when it was only but seedlings.
Today we stand committed to the proposition that we will not leave the table empty handed. We guarantee it to the world – we owe it to them. It is in these halls that we hope to reap what we sow and make good on our promises. Be it so that these times are not remembered by our descendants as a time of despair, but one of endless optimism for a shining future."
Subdued applause echoed throughout the cavernous chamber, yet it grew, bolstered by the strength of Chrom's conviction. It seemed to burn as brightly as the candles in the enormous chandeliers overhead.
Frederick stepped forward with a large golden torch and handed it to Chrom solemnly. The elderly man whom Robin noticed during the speech approached the prince and addressed the hall with a bow before conjuring a small blue flame in his circled hands.
"Heavenly Mother, Sun of Our Skies, Light of Our Lives. We bid You watch over us and allow us the brilliance of Your Presence. It is with Your Grace that You have bestowed Your Fire upon us to keep us warm and safe. And thus we pray that the flame shall burn forever bright, and woe befall should we dare to let it die."
He placed the blaze into the lip of the torch and bowed once more before retreating to his position. Chrom raised the torch high before striding confidently to the brazier and he deposited the flame into its pit.
The tiny spark grew monumentally in size until it towered almost to the height of the ceiling. The dragon within the flaming maelstrom threw its head back with a roar and stretched its mighty wings, drawing amazed and terrified reactions from the crowd. Almost as quickly as it started, the fire withdrew into the brazier and blue, yellow and orange light flickered warmly.
Thunderous applause broke the brief stupor. The show of approval had Chrom and Lissa grinning almost as brightly as the fire, and Basilio broke protocol to come forward and enclose them in a bone-crushing hug. Some of the robed men tutted sternly, but Robin felt rather moved at the display of affection.
There was a general sense of relief and excitement as a small army of servants herded the assembly into the passage joining the great hall with the throne room. Chrom's smile slipped a bit as the stream of people flowed past the dais, and he beckoned Frederick to him subtly. Robin watched as they exchanged a few words, the prince looking away but his expression somewhat strained. Frederick drew back and for a surprising second it seemed as though the knight would roll his eyes, but the annoyance was quickly smoothed over and he replied inaudibly. Lissa was more vocal in her impatience and bounded over to Robin with a loud clacking of pearls.
"You'll be sitting next to me!" she sparkled with mirth, and tugged the Plegian cheerfully (and surprisingly forcefully) along with the rest of those eager to start dining.
"Easy Lissa. Besides, you don't know if the seating plan will allow it," Chrom caught up to them with another of his effortless grins, Frederick and the robed men trailing behind.
"Uh, I checked it before, and it definitely says that Daraen is on my right. Weren't you supposed to know that already?"
"Whatever. You can be really intolerable sometimes, you know that?"
"Whenever you want, big brother."
Before Chrom could add a retort to what Robin was finding highly amusing, one of the men broke formation to shake Chrom's hands hysterically.
"Excellent speech milord! Truly one for the annals," his immensely fat girth wobbled enthusiastically. "The court seemed to find it rather touching, and I couldn't agree more!"
"Thank you Harald. Though I couldn't have done it without a lot of practice," he laughed. "And many revisions on Miriel's part," he added to himself.
"Oh, but you must admit that speech was always one of your talents! Milord is much too modest for his own good," the lord chuckled.
Robin piped up. "I distinctly remember his talks being rather popular on the battlefield. His soldiers always fought harder after being in his presence," she was pleased to see that the prince was blushing lightly under her praise.
"Oh, forgive my rudeness! I had totally forgotten that your Highness walked among us!" There was an oddly manic gleam in the man's chestnut eyes as he subjected her arms to the same vigorous pumping as Chrom's.
"It is no trouble at all, Sir…?"
"Harald, Harald Eschmann your Highness. I must say that your presence here is truly an inspiration! What an honour it is for my humble self to be in such noble company! How uplifting it is to witness the goodwill of our neighbours! I do hope you enjoy your stay here, and I assume that milord Chrom has already seen to it that you are suitably well accommodated. However, should the need arise, do not hesitate to seek me out! I shall do whatever you necessitate to, ah, facilitate your integration. And I must add that I am simply amazed, amazed I tell you, that I am able to observe the genius of your Highness in action! The stories they have told! The rumours that abound! Truly an honour! I do hope to accomplish many great things with your Lordship during the, ah, proceedings."
Robin was flabbergasted that he didn't seem the least bit winded when he finished.
Eschmann decided he wasn't and followed up by snatching her wrist and pulling back her sleeve.
"Oh my! You certainly are rather pale for your kind. Or is this a more common trait among your people?"
Ricken scurried to them from behind the jabbering masses, flustered and wrinkling his fine silk jacket from the effort. Chrom seemed to be competing in terms of redness and looped his arm over Robin, prying her away with a stream of apologies.
"Father, you can't just say something like that to others! A—a—and especially not people like the prince!"
"Come now son, I mean no harm from it! It was an honest question."
"An honest question he says! Next thing you know he'll be shopping for new linens to match that pasty skin of yours, kid!" a deep laughter boomed. Basilio marched to them with his usual bravado and smacked Robin's shoulder playfully; or at least that's what she assumed he thought he did since it felt like a bear rammed into her from behind.
"Are you sure that's even a good joke? You're losing your touch Basilio," she wrinkled her nose.
"And I suppose you fancy yourself a jester to judge it, huh? That seems too unrealistic for such a serious guy like you," he smirked, and she rolled her eyes hard.
Chrom raised a questioning brow. "So you're acquainted with Basilio, Daraen?"
"We've seen each other here and there. Mostly on the field," Basilio interrupted.
"He tried to crush my head in. On multiple occasions."
"Good times, good times. But we can let bygones be bygones, and now we're all gathered here for the noblest of intentions," he thwacked her again, and Robin was almost annoyed that Chrom and Lissa seemed torn between confusion and amusement.
Lissa perked up significantly when they entered the hall. "I can smell the food already!" she squealed.
Robin identified with the princess's excitement. Ignoring the servants and Master of Ceremonies directing them to their own table on another dais, she thought of the long days spent with the meanest and dirtiest of rations – or more often, none at all. The anxiety gnawing at their bellies had sometimes helped her and Gregor to cope. But now, she would be feasting in the company of fellow royals, on whatever she liked and whatever amount.
She wished that Gregor might be in the hall, too. She was still brimming with apprehension and missed him terribly, but the only invitees she saw were nobility, staff and other assorted castle folk.
Once they reached their spots they too were divided with an easy efficiency: Chrom and Lissa sat the head, with Robin to her right and Basilio to his left. Next to Robin was the gorgeous Valmese blonde, and Basilio shared his space with the Rosannois. Following them were the eight men, and judging by the fact that they were sharing a table, Robin deduced that they were Chrom's councillors.
The spectacled elder who had blessed the torch uttered a disapproving tsk-tsk at Eschmann as he shuffled to Chrom's side again. Before everyone was to be seated, servants emerged from a screened passage parading a rainbow of dishes. The main table was served first, and Robin's mouth watered uncontrollably.
"Let us say grace," the elder pronounced, closing his eyes and raising his upturned palms.
"Heavenly Mother, Sun of Our Skies, Light of Our Lives. We bid You watch over us and allow us the brilliance of Your Presence. It is with Your Grace that You have made the earth fruitful and kept our people hearty and hale. We honour this meal –"
Robin's stomach chose that moment to groan horribly. Basilio laughed, Lissa giggled and the priest raised pleading eyes to the ceiling.
"—And plead that the future holds as much bounty as our present."
The guests murmured their assent throughout the hall and the disgruntled man walked silently to his chair.
Four lads bearing trays to the head table followed an old woman with incongruously muscular arms. One of them, being the pantler, offered up the bread and another a handsome set of carving tools. The Master of Ceremonies presented the table with a heavy silver saltcellar, and Chrom broke the bread and dipped several pieces into the salt. The Master tasted one and, having deemed it safe, distributed the rest among the seated.
Robin discreetly licked a bit of drool away from her lips.
Another young man brought a tray of silver goblets, Chrom and Lissa's being chased gold and glass. The last of the party bore a wine ewer and the Master dropped an ugly stone – a bezoar – into the container. Satisfied, he passed it to Chrom and the wine was poured into the cups.
Robin wanted nothing more than to snatch the pitcher up and chug it all down.
Finally, Chrom used the carving set to slice several cuts of bear – Robin had seen it being carried on a sturdy oak stretcher, and it looked and smelled delicious, dripping with a rich brown sauce and lined with baked onions and apples. These too were divided between the diner's plates, and as they were placed before them, Robin plunked into her chair and tore into the meat with relish, savouring her first true meal in weeks, enjoying the gamy flavour, dear gods this is amazing –!
She was painfully aware of the overwhelming silence around her. Looking up, with gravy smearing her lips and fingers, the rest of the present company stared at her. They hadn't even sat down yet. The Master and the priest looked completely horrified; the Rosannois and some of the councillors disgusted, and Basilio was grinning like a madman.
"Forgive me. I couldn't control myself," she started to ramble, scrambling for whatever excuse she could pass off as even remotely appropriate. "The sight and scent alone were enough to make me forget whatever manners I have."
"Now there's something you don't hear every day in your career!" the elderly woman revealed a gap-toothed smile and clasped her hands delightedly: she must have been the head cook. "If only I could hear that kind of praise from you whelps," she cuffed Chrom's shoulder playfully, "and the rest of you ungrateful louts," her cackling could be heard all the way into the kitchen passage as she left, and the overwhelmed Master tried to offer an apologetic shrug before he hurried after her.
She must be quite special and talented if she's allowed to speak to her superiors like that, Robin mused as the rest took their places and began to eat. But one more slip-up like that and you can be sure that their forgiveness and your dumb luck will run out pretty quick, you stupid girl.
"Oi, cheer up old man," Basilio reached over the Rosannois and shook the elder forcefully. "It's not the end of the world or anything. Besides, if the food really is poisoned, then at least you know the Plegian didn't do it!"
There was weak laughter all around, and the older man looked a bit queasy himself. At the very least Chrom and Lissa, however perplexed they looked, still offered reassurances.
As the princess sniggered faintly and told Robin no, the tablecloth is most certainly not for wiping your hands on, that's what the napkins are for, her tone turned for the serious and she leaned in confidentially.
"You didn't bring any servants, you don't have any clothes, you're eating like a starving person…what happened?" Robin felt a prick of annoyance for having her personal affairs being butted into, but Lissa's pout and the reminder that she had been kind to her and, well, deserved to know, tamped it down.
"It's…a bit of a long story. To keep it short, we were basically shipwrecked."
"Shipwrecked?!"
"Yes, that's the gist of it. Yeah."
"You poor thing!"
Again, the irritation. But Lissa's sad eyes looked sincere, and she was surprised to have her holding her hand in sudden sympathy. Chrom said nothing but a supportive nod was enough.
As Lissa prattled on about how well they would take care of her and how she wouldn't want for nothing during her stay, she occasionally interrupted herself, along with her brother, to point out useful tidbits on table etiquette. For example, she wasn't supposed to serve herself from the dishes, but sample a few bites, even though the portions on the serving dishes were enormous. Using cutlery merited a whole lesson in of itself, but it wasn't as difficult as manoeuvring the hashi used in Chon'sin.
She took the rest of the time to learn about the eating habits of the nobility as well as the rest of the guests sharing the table. In Plegia as well as Chon'sin the whole meal was served all at once, but here it was organised into courses. Apparently the planning had deviated from presenting types of food in a certain order to displaying national foods from guest nations, with subtleties of marchpane and spun sugar representing their seats of power for each course.
Ylisse was shown through hearty soups, the delicious bear and sweet winter preserves paired with cheeses and bread, and Robin was enchanted by the spelled sugar pegasi flying around the towers and walls of Ylisstol castle. Regna Ferox had a wide variety of sharply flavoured pickles, smoked musk oxen, and candy soldiers that battled around the Khan's Palace.
As she sampled her way through Rosanne and the Valmese Empire (she preferred the former's fish to the latter's simpler maize and potatoes, but was more impressed by the Valmese centrepiece of bison) she quietly observed her companions and was careful to reply politely whenever prompted, but not in a way that would suggest spinelessness.
The priest who had led them in prayer was Anton Kospa of House Ænselm, second only to Chrom in terms of control over the church as head of their religion. While she perceived dislike from him during the beginning of the meal, he was appropriately deferential and even shy when they spoke. He seemed all right so far, but it would do to keep an eye on him.
Eschmann she had already met. It was clear from the get-go that he was incurably eccentric and over-excitable, and while she didn't appreciate his initial grabbiness she had a gut feeling that he was at least somewhat trustworthy. His house, Stoecklin, had risen from hard times after the death of the previous Minister of Finance; he had been promoted after his son's marriage to Lissa, he explained, and he waved enthusiastically to him a table over while the lad hid his face with a hand.
"Forgive me for my impertinence, your Highness, but I believe I speak for most when I respectfully request a change in music. Perhaps something livelier for our guests?" Tobias Falstaff spoke smoothly, and his well trimmed goatee and sharp red eyes painted a very handsome and cultivated image.
But there was a hard edge to his demeanour when Robin had faced him, and he never spoke to her unless directly addressed. She then knew that not only was he certainly among the more prejudiced members of Chrom's court, but that he would be impossible to sway and would challenge her every step of the way. The question was whether it was more efficient to simply counter him or to also try to find which councillors could be played against him.
"Yeah Chrom! We've had nothing but these slow and sappy ballads. Even the tumblers look bored!" Lissa accidentally sprayed crumbs onto her trencher.
Chrom, previously in happy conversation and sporting a rather far off look in his eyes, seemed affronted by the very suggestion. "If you say so…"
He motioned to one of the servants stationed behind his chair. Instructing her quietly, the maid bowed and left, returning shortly with a green-haired man in tow.
"Lewyn, it seems that a change has been requested. You do still have the lists I've compiled?"
"I do milord. Which scores shall we be playing from?" the bard seemed highly amused by the exchange.
"The, uh, happier one."
Lewyn bowed. "At once, milord."
Soon after, breathy notes began floating from the minstrel's gallery, reverberating throughout the hall.
I'll swim and sail on savage seas
With ne'er a fear of drowning
And gladly ride the waves of life
If you would marry me…
Lissa groaned and some of the councillors grimaced uncomfortably. "Ugh. I take it back. I'd rather listen to all of those ballads back to back if it means not hearing this song ever again!"
Chrom's face had taken on a lost, dreamy quality, eyes glazing over as a curiously soft smile played about his lips. "Oh, hush," he replied dazedly.
The rest of the meal progressed somewhat uneventfully, and Robin wondered why Chrom's inattention seemed to worsen with each passing song. They soon reached the end of the banquet, with Plegia being the last course. She could tell that few had any idea what her national cuisine was like, but was mollified by the fact that they at least tried; she nibbled on what looked like an attempt at lamb kebabs as she watched jackals and wyverns chase each other over the subtlety of her capital's walled city.
Chrom was snapped out of his stupor as the table was voided and he stood to give a toast. Several had been stated before, with many a courtier hilariously sloshed by then, but the prince had refrained until now so that it would be more meaningful.
"We thank you all for attending this feast—" he began, and was interrupted by a few raucous "hear hears!"
"—And we hope it surpassed your highest expectations. This is but the beginning of many happy nights together, and we hope that those future nights are also filled with more merrymaking and joy to come," he raised his goblet high. "To peace!"
The hall exploded into a cacophony of shouting, many variations of "to Ylisse!" and libations to Chrom or Emmeryn. Said prince managed a tight smile: Robin noticed how he, in his nervousness, had cracked his glass, his dark sleeves hiding the rivulets of wine that dripped down his wrist and onto his golden trencher.
As he wiped himself hurriedly, the hall was cleared and the guests moved into a set of large drawing rooms to dance, gossip, gamble or any combination of the three. Attendants wove between the guests to offer mead, more wine, and spiced cookies. Robin was sad when the spicy-sweet taste of Plegian grapes danced about her tongue as she accepted another glass.
Gods' wounds! Drunkenness is the fastest way to a loose tongue, you silly girl! Get a grip.
She felt a bit awkward standing around with the councillors and other ambassadors, but it seemed as though they were to remain together for this part of the night as well.
And Chrom wasn't helping matters by constantly searching throughout the room and being distracted in the conversation.
"If I may, I would like to have the pleasure of sharing this," Ghislain du Berry, the man representing Rosanne, sniffed primly as one of his footmen retrieved an expensive looking bottle for him.
Basilio perked up instantly. "Oh, is that a '39? Great year for the grapes."
"Indeed it was," the noble smoothed his cravat as tall goblets were poured for them.
Robin snuffled uncertainly at the rim, uncomfortable with being plied with more alcohol when all she wanted to do was sleep. "I'm sorry…I'm not familiar with this."
"It's champagne," Pheros, the Valmese envoy, explained gently. Robin was surprised at how patient he seemed when he gave off an air of aloofness before. Du Berry had almost replied instead, and appeared to be distinctly miffed at being beaten to the punch.
"Oh," Robin said.
She took a small sip of the pale beverage and frowned slightly.
"Yes?" du Berry pressed, somewhat anxious that she looked like only one who wasn't enjoying it.
"It's quite delicious," she muttered. "But…"
"But what?"
"It's too…bubbly."
Basilio and a flame haired councillor burst into drunken guffaws, while du Berry spluttered indignantly. All Robin could manage was a sheepish shrug before, thankfully, Chrom swooped in to her rescue.
"I think he's had enough for the day," his diplomatic tone smoothed over ruffled feathers as he handed her glass to Basilio. "And he's had a trying past weeks. It would be for the best if he heads back to his quarters."
"I'm not a child," Robin grumbled under her breath. She didn't protest, however, and was clearheaded enough to manage appropriate thank yous and good evenings to the present company before she shuffled off to her rooms.
She was almost halfway there when, to her surprise, Chrom was jogging to her side. He was slightly sweaty and flushed, but the shine to his eyes showed that he wasn't as absentminded as before, at least.
"That went well," he started, waving congenially to the men and women assigned to care for the night's torchlights.
She grunted noncommittally in reply and they fell into a companionable silence as they walked.
"It was enjoyable," she finally remarked, as they reached the blue door and the guards assigned to her knocked to let the servants know of her arrival. "I'm sorry I had to cut it short."
"No need for that," he gestured airily, as her ladies drew her another bath and prepared the warming pans. His gaze searched her own, slight concern betraying him. For a moment, it looked as though he wanted to add something, but he gave an almost imperceptible shake of the head and settled instead for holding her hands.
"We owe a lot to your presence," his voice had gone suddenly low, "and it means a great deal to us to have you here."
"I'm surprised you'd have me at all," her reply was equally hushed, and she wondered why they were speaking as though they were exchanging secrets. It was a nice feeling though, to share a semblance of confidentiality. "I hope that me being here will at least fix some things…and mean something better for us."
"For us," the prince echoed, the smallest of smiles tugging at the corners of his lips. Robin didn't know if it was the alcohol or something else, but the warmth that suffused her at the sight was pleasant and soft. At that moment, his trustworthiness had completely solidified into something tangible and strong.
He suddenly looked a bit self-conscious and drew back. Robin was a little disappointed, but kept to herself as the prince patted her clumsily.
"I do hope you get a good night's rest. We rise before dawn, and the day will be long."
"I'll keep that in mind," her legs shifted tiredly. "I hope you'll sleep well too."
He rubbed the back of his head stiffly, and they remained standing in the doorframe for a while until Chrom bid her goodbye and left. Her guards were entertained by the whole exchange, but she paid them little mind as she watched Chrom's figure disappear into the hallway.
She wanted to protest against another bath on the basis of using up too much water, but the wonderful heat loosened her aching muscles and let her relax enough to mull over the day's events. She wrapped her chest in several thin washcloths under the provided nightgown, and realised she had taken quite a while when she returned to see her attendants already asleep on their cots.
That's good. It gives me enough time to write.
Robin pulled out fresh sheets of parchment from the desk and carefully lit a small candle; even though the hearth was burning too much darkness was cast over her little nook. She wet her quill with a satisfactory amount of ink and began to scratch away:
Aversa
You must be worried sick by now, but I hope it pleases you to know that we've made it safely to Ylisse. The bad news is that by "we" I mean our sea captain and myself – Robin.
We lost part of the crew by Ylisse's southern coast, Daraen included. I beg to the gods in the hopes that he is still alive, but I'm not deluding myself into thinking that he had much of a chance. I'll be sending Gregor, the captain, to oversee the search. He should make good time to the border. Send whomever else you see fit to him.
I need my clothes, my books, and my tools – do see that enough of Daraen's things are mixed in to throw off suspicion, though. A foreign court may excuse the custom of loose clothing, but never using fitted trousers here is sure to raise questions. Have the caravan start moving, and explain to them that under no circumstance are they to discuss this development at any stop or even once they arrive. Any question is to be directed to me or amongst them.
She rubbed her eyes and watched the candle gutter with her exhale.
More to come soon enough. Please write back quickly.
Robin.
Pinching a glob of bright green wax, she melted it with the candle and used the stamp the castle provided, as well as her ring, to seal it in an envelope. She then conjured a small red spark on her fingertip and set it ablaze, knowing that the spell would see it safely in Aversa's hands. The sneaky sorceress had refused to teach her the rest of the incantation, stressing that it was to be used only as a private line between them.
Robin knew part of the reason was borne from her irritating sense of pride in casting, and she could think of many situations that could have been avoided had she known the entirety of the spell too. Nonetheless, Aversa would reply soon enough, and having a secret and impenetrable form of contact was merely an added layer of insurance.
As she settled into the warm mattress, her thoughts drifted back to Chrom, Lissa and the banquet. The food and drink rested pleasantly in her belly, and the pair had left an impression of friendliness and warmth. She could trust them.
But then the whispers, the pointing, Falstaff, her very circumstances, soured her thoughts. The insidious voice inside her head murmured about assassins and threats around every corner.
Never Chrom and Lissa, she protested. Not them. They were honest. They were kind.
Oh, but you can get attached, it hissed back. You will get attached and you won't be able to protect them from others who would use them against you. You can pretend that you can make friends, but they will betray you and scorn you like any other.
They can still hurt you.
Her mind now swimming in paranoia, she went to sleep feeling very lonely, uncertain and sorry for herself.
Robin missed Daraen terribly.
Elsewhere in the castle, another young maiden was in distress as well.
Her reasons were, however, a cause of annoyance for the Lady Margaret.
"I swear, I left them right there!" Luella bawled, ignoring her colleagues' attempts to soothe her. "I counted, and I checked that there were exactly three more in the box!"
"Dear, no one will mind if a few bandages are missing," the matron growled, her patience having run out a while ago. She wanted to go to sleep, but of course, there was a problem to be found and Luella in tears for it. "We can always replace them."
"B-b-but we were supposed to ration them but I'm stupid and useless and I can't do anything right and they're not there! A-a-and it's all m-my faauuuulllltttt!" the girl wailed. The few patients that were sleeping in the dormitory began to wake with howls of complaint, and little Thomas, who had been put to bed several hours ago, toddled in with his very cross-looking mother crying about the noise.
Margaret sighed harshly through her nose, her eye rolling hard. The nurse nearest to her recognised the look and fetched her a hot tot of whiskey.
"Two weeks on the job," she grumbled, downing the alcohol in one go.
I think that my guilt at not having this ready sooner compelled me to write these 27 pages - but I guess that's my lot in art school! I hope that this makes up for a year's time.
Additionally, I've been trying to gather a lot of information to sort of keep this in the idea that this is the world of Awakening in a Shakespearian setting - books like Christopher Hibberts' The English: a Social History, DK Travel's Great Britain and Northern Ireland, as well as The Tudors wiki (particularly the costume section) and my Signet Classics copy of Twelfth Night itself have been a great help. The Awakening wiki was indispensable as ever, as was Wikipedia for providing me information on medieval and renaissance architecture. The entrance hall of Ylisstol Castle is basically a huge ripoff of St. George's Chapel hall in Windsor Castle, and most of my architectural references are from castles Bolsover, Bamburgh and Edinburgh. If you have the opportunity to visit them any time soon I strongly suggest you do because castles are awesome and so is history.
If anyone wants to discuss more about this fic or history in general, my inbox is always open, as is my blog. Feel free to talk about what you liked, loved, disliked, or hated! Reviews are highly appreciated and I thank everyone who took the time to read this, especially after having waited for a year.