And now: The Plegian and the Feroxi finally meet. The beginning of the hole Chrom will dig himself into...
It seemed as though she had scarcely gone to bed when Robin was shaken, roughly and carelessly, from her sleep. Blearily opening her crusty eyes, she turned in her mattress to try and discern the offender who would dare to disturb her slumber.
"...Chrom?"
The prince regnant was, simply put, a mess. His hair flew all over in a wild disarray. His eyelids were drooping and his clothes were dishevelled. He had a look in his eyes that suggested a sort of mania had taken hold of him and kept him pacing all night.
"T-thank goodnesss you're awake," Chrom slurred, and the stench of alcohol rolled out of his mouth and washed over Robin's face. The man positively reeked of ale: his clothes and breath were impregnated with the awful, powerful scent, and it took all of Robin's willpower not to gag in front of him.
"Chrom, it's—" she turned to the clock sitting on her nightstand until she remembered that she could not even read such a device in the first place. "—too late," she muttered. "What are you doing here? Is everything alright?" She did not miss the absence of her attendants...or her chest bindings. Robin immediately cocooned herself within her sheets.
"Not really," the prince admitted sadly. He brightened up almost immediately. "But...you can help me, can't you?" Chrom made himself at home on Robin's bed and sat by her side, their combined weight sinking the mattress down even further.
"Um...what is it that you're looking for help in, exactly?"
"...You'll laugh at me if I say."
"I promise I won't." And it's too gods-damned late in the night for you to wake me and then not want to say anything about it.
Chrom mulled her words over for a good while. When it seemed Robin would nod off out of exhaustion, he shook her again and finally spoke.
"A-at Maribelle's luncheon...you had allll those ladies looking your way."
"...Did I?"
"Yeah...all of them looked so...happy at you. Hanging on to your every word…I want to be looked at like that too."
Oh dear.
This was a rehash of her conversation with Maribelle. But instead of a poised, perfectly composed duchess explaining the terms of a request to her, Robin now had an inebriated, lovesick prince paying her a visit well into the night and babbling over her supposed romantic prowess that he wanted in on.
Were she not a prince (or at least masquerading as one), she was sure that Frederick would have skinned her alive.
"Look, Chrom...are you sure that you want to discuss such a thing at this hour? It's very late, and you're very drunk. Wouldn't you rather talk this over in the morning?" Robin placed a hand on the small of his back to try and push him out of her bed, and pressed the cup of water from her sideboard into his hands in the hopes that he would attempt to keep himself hydrated.
Chrom downed the entirety of its contents in a single gulp, but refused to budge from her side. To her horror, he kicked off his boots and settled into bed along with her instead, leaning back comfortably with his head stealing her pillow.
"This can't wait!" Chrom insisted. "I need you now."
Pegasus dung. This was going to be a long night…
"...Fine," Robin sighed. "Tell me."
His smile was bright and cheery in spite of the night's darkness and his state of disarray. Robin was supposed to stay annoyed at him but could not help but feel a bit of her bad mood melt away at the sight.
Chrom turned his head away to yawn. "So there's this woman—"
Olivia, Robin thought.
"—her name is Olivia. By gods Daraen, is she the loveliest thing! The most beautiful sight I've ever laid eyes on."
He turned to Robin expectantly, but she merely nodded, prompting him to continue. He scratched his head before picking up where he had left off.
"She's...honestly, the most gorgeous thing ever. Pink and fair as any rose—no, a hundred times prettier than a common rose. Eyes as gray as the ocean...or were they violet? Dark pink?"
Robin sighed. Then again, he was drunk, so she was not really expecting his narrative to be all that reliable.
"And she's a dancer. And a singer. When she performs...it's like nothing else exists. It's just her and…" Chrom raised his hands dreamily and moved them in the air as though he were tracing a woman's curves.
Robin rolled her eyes exasperatedly. Men, she thought.
"But she won't even have me!" Chrom lamented and threw his arm over his eyes dramatically. "I've sent letters, gifts, flowers...she sends them right back without a word. I don't know what I'm doing wrong to begin with…"
"Have you asked her why?"
"Huh?"
"Have. You. Asked. Her. Why."
Chrom squinted through the darkness and tapped his chin thoughtfully. Even in his drunken state, he had the decency to look shame-faced and turned to her sheepishly. "...No."
Robin scoffed incredulously. "Well, maybe this would be settled if you just talked, then. Gods know how many misunderstandings could have been cleared up if people actually made the effort to talk. And now that this has been settled, I definitely think it's time for you to go to bed." Robin tried to roll him out with as much force as she could muster without accidentally pushing him into the corner of her nightstand or onto the floor; she could do without a lashing from Frederick for dashing the prince's brains out in her guestroom.
The oaf had the gall to open up her bedsheets and burrow into them, sticking his tongue out stubbornly instead of cooperating. In spite of him being a strange, mopey drunk rather than aggressive and argumentative, Robin's patience was starting to wear thin and sleep threatened to overtake her sooner or later.
Chrom pulled the sheets up to his chin and sighed, melancholy and forlorn, totally inured to Robin stewing next to him. "That's the thing...what if I just scare her off? What if I say the wrong thing? W-what if she laughs in my face and says she wants nothing to do with me?"
Has it occurred to you that there are far worse things that could happen? Robin did not say. However petty and annoyed she felt, Chrom cut a pitiable figure, lying in bed like that, and she soon felt sorry enough for him to wonder if his desperation was so great as to drive him to drink.
"I'm sure she won't," Robin tried to comfort him and patted his back gently, if awkwardly.
"How do you know?"
Robin shrugged, unsure. As she was about to open her mouth to continue, Chrom shot upright, a brilliant grin replacing his gloomy frown.
"Of course you would know. You're you."
"I'm what?"
"All those ladies were talking about you...admiring you...when I left it was all 'Daraen this, Plegia that.' They couldn't take their eyes off of you!" The prince took her hands in his; in spite of the smell of alcohol, the feeling of his breath on her face made Robin feel hot and bothered.
"What are you talking about? No, it's clear that it's the ale talking—Chrom, you're making very little sense."
"No, no, I'm perfectly fine," Chrom insisted even as his head lolled bonelessly. "I'll be even better once you teach me what you know about women...what is it that you do to make yourself so irresistible to them!"
Robin barely had any clue herself as to this sudden appeal of hers that Chrom described, and despite her promising Maribelle that she would help the lovelorn prince, she had little idea for how to even begin. She had never even met Olivia and yet found herself wanting to strangle the woman for putting her in such a predicament.
No, better to strangle Chrom for being such a fool in the first place.
"Maybe you just have to change your approach," Robin grunted as she tried to heave him out once more.
"You're right," Chrom agreed, and sank into moroseness once again. "Maybe I'm c-coming on too strong. Maybe she feels me too threatening, too coarse and boorish for someone like her."
Thank goodness for self awareness, Robin thought approvingly just as she was able to push him to the edge of her mattress.
She groaned, close to resignation, as Chrom rolled back to his previous position, seemingly not having noticed her attempts to get him out. He hiccupped drunkenly and knit his brows together in concentration.
"Maybe she's one of those ladies who prefers the company of other women…"
Robin had been so invested in her efforts in reclaiming her bed that she did not notice him moving. She froze as his hand came to rest on the back of her head. As lush as he was with alcohol, Chrom's eyes were trained intently on hers; the way that his hand moved from her hair to her cheek felt deliberate.
"I-if she prefers the company of women, then doesn't that mean that you have to rethink your whole strategy?"
"That won't be a problem with you helping me now, won't it?" a dreamy smile quirked his lips up. "If that's the case, then she'll surely feel more comfortable around you."
"I-I'm a man, Chrom," Robin said unconvincingly. "I doubt that she'd take to me at all."
"Nnnonssensssse." Chrom leaned in closer to her, with their foreheads almost touching. "The way you are, you barely look a day over manhood. That soft, high voice, those smooth pink lips…" he swiped his thumb over her lower lip as he spoke. Robin's cheeks flushed a hot red; drunk or not, the contact was strangely intimate, and yet...she made little effort to push him off.
Chrom mercifully untangled himself from her sheets and left her bedside, staggering a bit before regaining his bearings. Robin exhaled a breath she was not aware she had been holding. His lopsided grin was as bright as ever and he looked entirely unfazed by their exchange.
"You'll act on my behalf, won't you? With you there she'll surely not have much to object to."
"Wouldn't you rather just d-do it yourself?"
Chrom waved a hand dismissively. "You'll soften her up before I come in. Make her see that my love for her is as true as can be. Put your logic, speaking skills, and strategic thought to my use."
"And how exactly do you propose I do that?"
"I dunno. Be insistent. Be loud and obnoxious. Break down her doors if you have to. I know that you're the right man for the job...you'll help me, won't you?"
Chrom smiled down at her as he braced himself with a hand on the headboard and the other on Robin's duvet, right over her thigh. She immediately thought back to the touch of his thumb on her lips and gulped, unsure of what to do.
"If I promise to help you, then you have to promise to let me sleep," she conceded cautiously.
Chrom blinked dumbly in response. Comprehension lit his cloudy vision and the prince nodded in agreeance. "That I shall. I hope you sleep well Daraen," he started towards the exit. "Thank you for this...I'll see to it that your efforts are rewarded," he winked drunkenly.
"They better be. And go sober up," Robin grumbled under her breath.
She watched as he missed the door by a mile and smacked into the wall with a loud bang. He stared intently at the wall for a few good moments before his hand finally found the doorknob and he opened it to reveal a sliver of light and Frederick's disgruntled face staring in. With a cheery wave, he finally took his leave.
Robin flopped back onto her pillow with a loud sigh and dragged her hands down her face. Now it was going to be impossible to try to sleep.
Robin yawned into her hand for the umpteenth time as she strolled over the keep's lawn. She had made sure to wake early, even for her, to be able to ask around as to the location of the apartments housing the Feroxi delegation. That way she could get started on this infernal task of hers and at least get it over with before noon.
It was not to say she had no time for it that particular day. In fact, the previous summit meeting had gone rather poorly; while no one had stood up in their seat to scream and fling accusations, the atmosphere was decidedly chilly and the negotiations basically amounted to arguing whether they should set a budget first or whether they should decide to tackle a certain issue beforehand. Chrom had been forced to adjourn the session with no progress made, but warned that the issue of funds against topics was to be put down to a vote. At the very least she had some work finished up from the day Chrom accidentally threw her off the battlements.
She groaned at the thought. As charming and kind as he was, many of her current predicaments could be traced back to the prince, on top of having to keep up the pretense of filling her brother's seat. Playing matchmaker for an Ylissean of all things…
But Robin was a woman of her word, and she had already promised herself twice over, to the duchess and the prince. No matter how tedious the job, no matter how difficult it would be to balance with her other duties, Robin would see this to the end.
Why Chrom insisted that this Olivia had to be the one was beyond her. Was it not enough to be the richest, most politically visible bachelor of Ylisse? He could have picked any other woman who would have been more than happy to wed and bear him children. Why the one who refused him?
Sometimes we humans let our greed get the best of us, Daraen had mused over a similar case, once. Having something that was denied to us feels like a vindication to some. The chase is often more thrilling than the catch.
She hoped that Chrom was not as selfish as to be the kind of man who would toss a lover to the side once the novelty of courtship had worn off.
Robin was jolted out of her reverie by her arrival to the Feroxi villa. It was pretty: a burbling fountain with spouts in the shape of pegasi taking flight cooled the leafy courtyard, with flowers and trees of all kinds (rhododendrons, roses, a stately willow rustling with movement, and rows of hedges and delphiniums) dressing the space in the colour and cheer of spring. Robin tucked her hand in her pocket to make sure the paper with Chrom's talking points was still there as she walked to the doorway of the handsome apartments.
The prince had taken her aside during the previous day's breakfast, confessing that he remembered everything that transpired the night before. He had begged her forgiveness and admitted his shame once he came to the morning after and was able to reflect on his indecency, rambling on until Robin interrupted him with an upturned palm.
"Chrom, however strange last night was, don't worry. I already promised to help."
"I—what?"
"You heard me."
"But...Daraen, I was being nothing more than a drunken oaf, I touched you, you don't have to—"
"I'm not a man who reneges on promises, Chrom. Once I finish this, then I'm sure you can find a way to make it up to me; but for now, let me do the job I am held to."
She was sure that the prince had tears of gratefulness in his eyes, lovesick fool that he was. At the end of the day, as they all filed out of the hall with bellies full of mead and roast pork, he had pushed a sweaty note, folded up several times, into her open palm discreetly.
Robin had squinted at the hurried scrawl. "Chrom, what is this?"
"My, uh, talking points. Look, just because you agreed to help me doesn't mean I'm leaving all the legwork to you. That would be unkind of me, don't you think? But please, let her hear it from your lips only." At the word lips, Chrom flushed a bright pink and excused himself hurriedly.
To his credit, the speech was fairly standard, waxing poetic on Olivia's beauty, her charm, grace, and the heartache Chrom felt pining after her in the hopes that she would reciprocate. It certainly was in need of editing, but Robin preferred to see just how exactly Chrom's words worked with her own eyes and take notes as to what needed fixing. Tailoring his approach was one of the first things that needed to be established.
Even so, it did little to diminish the impression that Robin was going to come off as either very stupid, simpering, or both. She grumbled as she took the heavy brass knocker and rapped it loudly against the front door.
Sully was watching Robin from the sliver of window she had exposed under the heavy drapes, suspicious as to why they would have a solicitor at their doorstep so early in the morning. She frowned at the distinctly Plegian sheen of his (for the stranger wore male clothes) hair. She had heard of the lone Plegian ambassador in the castle—but what was he doing here of all places? What business did he have?
The redhead muttered and griped under her breath all the way up the stairs, careful to stay out of the way of the servants tidying up the apartments for the day's beginning.
Sully knocked at the door to Olivia's boudoir harshly, as she was wont to do until she heard the lady's soft exclamation of "come in!" She opened it with a terse "thanks" as she took her seat by the window. Soft early morning light streamed inside and bathed the room and its occupants with a rosy glow, touching up Olivia's hair and giving it an even pinker tone. The khatun was at her vanity and was being fussed over by a cadre of ladies-in-waiting who offered her a multitude of silks and jewellery as she applied her makeup and prepared for the day.
Accepting an offered platter of fruit, Sully selected an apple and crunched into it noisily before beckoning Excellus over. The steward glided over to her silently with his customary early morning glower.
"I am not a dog that you can summon so carelessly," Excellus sniffed.
"Yeah yeah, mornin' to you too, Toady. Listen...I think we might have a situation at the front door."
"Another of Lord Chrom's messengers?"
"Dunno. Young guy. It's the Plegian, actually. No idea why he's here though."
At the mention of the prince's name, Olivia sighed, waved off her attendants, and turned in her seat to face Sully and Excellus, her earrings jingling with the movement. "Again?" she sighed in dismay.
"I dunno why he's here exactly, Olivia, but the guy's Plegian. The Plegian, I'm sure you've heard."
Olivia pursed her lips contemplatively. "Why on earth would he be here?"
"Beats me. I bet it's something important, since it's still so early…"
"Milady, what think you of this? Shall I send him on his way?" Excellus said eagerly.
Olivia, thinking hard, chewed on her lip. The circumstances surrounding that man were certainly strange; in his short stay in Ylisstol there was already an abundance of rumours circling throughout the court. What exactly did a man like him need here?
Then again, there was the minor scandal that had originated in the gardens...something about him being able to fly. They said that he had taken Chrom up in his arms and had levitated them down from the ramparts and onto the lawn.
And if there was any mention of Chrom, then it was something Olivia had no desire to be involved with.
"Please do," she sighed and returned to her mirror. "If the young man desires an audience then he would certainly be more prudent and reschedule for later. He probably sent him."
"Of course, milady," Excellus simpered and scampered off to the door.
Robin tapped her foot impatiently and adjusted her collar now that the rising sun heralded a shift in temperature. While the newfound heat was a welcome presence, the change in times had left her irritable. Who would be so rude as to leave a visitor waiting so long? Did they not have anyone to attend to the doorway? Or were they just going to blatantly ignore her?
Her questions were almost answered as the door opened a smidgen to reveal who she assumed to be a butler of sorts. He wore robes similar to that of a sage and his hair was cut very short and with a blunt fringe. He would not have looked so ugly were his smile not so evidently fake and unwelcoming.
"Good morning," the man sniffed, and raked his eyes over Robin's form condescendingly. She immediately decided that she found him to be annoyingly rude. "Are you lost, young man? Or have you any business with Khan Basilio, or the Lady Olivia?"
"Good morning. I was sent here on behalf of Prince Chrom." Robin's reply was polite yet clipped.
The man's ugly, square white teeth were revealed bit by bit as his lips opened in a slow sneer. Robin barely knew him and his openly disrespectful mannerisms were already starting to grate at her patience. "I'm afraid to say that we are currently not accepting visitors or—ah, messengers at the moment. Perhaps if you'd had the foresight to schedule an audience beforehand...if not, then I'm afraid you're simply wasting everyone's time. You are welcome to return later and try again...but for the moment, I'm afraid you have to leave. We can't have any obstructions on our doorstep..."
Nobody told me anything about having to schedule anything. It's too damn early for me to be dealing with this, Robin thought as her frustration and lack of sleep threatened to spill over. She jammed her foot into the slowly closing door, startling the astonishingly impudent servant, and positively growled at him.
"And just who is it that I have the distinct displeasure of talking to?"
Stunned silence was the reply. A moment later, she heard a petulant "Excellus, sir," from behind the door.
"Listen, Excellus: I have but one message. I assure you that the faster I get to it, the faster I'm out of everyone's sight. I got here early so that I wouldn't take up everyone's valuable time, you see. Is the Lady Olivia available or not?"
Another sullen silence stretched out. Robin made a point of tapping her nails on the door.
"...She is...asleep," Excellus tried to lie. Robin rolled her eyes.
"Then I'll just wait for her until she wakes up."
"She is asleep because she feels unwell, sir."
"Then I'll just wait for her until she feels better."
"Milady will not deign to speak in the presence of such a coarse thing like yourself," Excellus spat.
"My message is for her ears only. I'll not let an arrogant toad try to throw his weight around as though he has the right. I'll stay here like a damn signpost and wait even if it takes me a week to get an audience." Robin crossed her arms, sat herself resolutely down on the step, and shoved her leg further past the doorway with a sharp glare.
Excellus stared wordlessly back and left the door to scurry up the stairs, spitting curses as he went.
Olivia was alerted to Excellus' return by the distinctive sound of him swearing. She sighed into her pot of rouge as her steward stormed into her boudoir thundering up a hurricane of profanity.
"Ooh, impudent wretch that he is, one would think his mother's milk was scarcely out of him—as though a boy of his type has the right—"
"Excellus," Olivia interrupted softly. "What is the matter?"
The steward's face was an unattractive shade of puce as he struggled to control his breathing. When his laboured panting finally evened out, he smoothed back his hair with as much dignity as he could muster before replying.
"This peascod, this codling, this upstart waiting at the gate is very rude and speaks as though he were a common shrew. I tried to dissuade him, milady, but he threw my words in my face and demanded to speak to you immediately...he says he is here on behalf of Prince Chrom. Shall I have the guards throw him out?"
Olivia chewed her lip nervously as she contemplated the situation. The khatun had feared that it was another one of Chrom's attempts to woo her...but why send the Plegian in his stead? What reason did he have for coming on Chrom's behalf? Why would he be so uncouth as to demand her presence so stubbornly?
She sighed again. Try as she might, her refusals to Chrom seemed to have either flown over his head, or he was choosing to ignore them entirely, and now he had gone and involved a third party in the matter. Whatever the case was, Olivia was at a loss.
What to do? She could easily accept Excellus' offer to summon the guards—the Plegian would be escorted off quietly and without a fuss. If she wanted to be more aggressive, she could even have Sully do it in her usual brash manner and send him on his way, hopefully too intimidated to return, as the retainer had done with previous messengers. Either option was tempting: it meant Olivia would not have to be there herself. She would be able to ward off another of Chrom's attempts and keep herself as uninvolved as possible.
And yet...he presented a mystery that had piqued her curiosity begrudgingly. He was himself royalty on equal standing with Chrom...why go to the trouble of waking at such an hour for the express humiliation of standing outside her door, hoping to deliver a message, as others had attempted unsuccessfully before? Why even accept to debase himself to such a lowly position as Chrom's lackey? Was he being blackmailed? Had he been promised something in return?
Or was there something more to him?
"Sully, may I have my veil, please?"
The redhead, who had amused herself over Excellus' typically overdrawn displays of anger, snapped back to attention and blinked at Olivia. "You're not seriously going down there yourself?" Sully carefully handled the gauzy fabric and helped to drape it over Olivia's shoulders and face, tucking the corners into the back of her dress.
Olivia exhaled nervously; she was always terribly shy in front of others, nevermind complete strangers, and royalty to boot. Interaction often seemed like an impossibly daunting task. But if she wanted this cleared up, then she had to try and be as firm and composed as possible. "W-well, sometimes, we have to do some things ourselves," she replied shakily as she made her way downstairs.
As Robin waited sulkily on the doorstep, feeling very ridiculous and frustrated (what with having a leg halfway through the door as she sat, splayed over the entrance), the door opened once more. To her surprise, a heavily hungover Basilio greeted her. He had a white handkerchief in one hand—it looked suspiciously more like someone's cravat to Robin—and a stein of beer in the other.
"Ho, Daraen!" he yawned and belched. A fishy scent permeated the air and Robin held her breath instinctively. "Damn these pickled herring," Basilio muttered under his breath. He took a hearty swig of beer and wiped his thick lips with exaggerated delicacy before addressing her again. "What brings you to this neck of the woods so early this morning?"
"I'm here to see Olivia," Robin shrugged plaintively.
"You—wait, what?" Basilio's smile slipped a fraction. He then sighed and scrubbed his face with the handkerchief tiredly—he had seen this scene played out before. "Did Chrom send you here?"
"...Yes."
"..."
"Sorry for being a bother."
"It's not you," Basilio sighed. He opened the door with a look that could only be described as pity before he hauled Robin bodily up by the scruff of her collar. "You should prolly come inside—my ass is hurting just from looking at you sit like that."
"Thanks."
Basilio led her to a small parlour populated by cushy couches and warmed by a stone fireplace. They sat by a large bay window where they were immediately approached by a deferential maidservant.
"A refreshment, sirs?"
"Nothing too strong for Bubbles here, else he might pass out from all the excitement," a sly voice mocked.
Robin arched her brow at the lanky, freckled ginger leaning casually against the doorframe, a stick of chamber spice jutting jauntily out of his mouth. His clothes were better suited to skulking around dark alleys at night and his soiled boots were muddying the expensive hardwood floor, a fact that did not go unnoticed as he sat with them and propped his feet up on a frail side table. The maid sighed in resignation but said nothing and left.
"Bubbles?" Robin asked.
The man waved away her question nonchalantly. "Never you mind that," was his airy response. His narrow eyes were a bright, calculating green that surveyed her brazenly. "Heard Your Highness was here on some…'official business.'"
"I know you know," Robin replied evenly. "You were eavesdropping in the willow. Hard to be stealthy when I can hear you moving around on the branches. Or when you're trying to sneak in through the back and the fountain makes the grass muddy." She nodded pointedly at the mud dripping from his dirty boots.
Robin felt a twinge of unease as his eyes narrowed further; perhaps her answer was a bit too on the nose and she had offended him somehow. Her worries proved unfounded as the man snorted and clapped her hard on the back.
"This guy's a smartass, alright."
Basilio laughed in return. "You honestly thought you could hide from him? Nah, Gaius. They called him 'Six-Eyes' during the war."
Robin laughed nervously and gratefully accepted the cider the mute servant had returned with. It was a sensitive topic she was not willing to discuss with non-Plegians...at the very least, they thought it some sort of nickname often bestowed on soldiers of the type given to notoriety, instead of knowing its true origins.
"But what's a guy like you doing slumming around these here parts? Doesn't Blue have enough fancy servants on him to send instead of a prince? What'd he promise you?" Gaius weedled.
Blue? He probably meant Chrom. "Nothing," Robin said honestly. "I just promised I would help him."
"He for sure needs all the help he can get," Gaius muttered under his breath. Basilio snorted into his empty stein of beer as he reached for the cider. "C'mon man. Nobody does stuff for free. Nobody's that nice unless they're expecting something."
"And what do you think I'm expecting?" Robin countered.
Gaius rested his chin on a hand and shrugged. "Dunno. I'll find out sooner or later. Wanna talk this over lunch? You'll have to foot the bill, though."
"Gaius, you will do no such thing," a soft, tired voice sighed.
Olivia did not share her uncle's dark skin or his confident posture, but there was definitely a resemblance, even with the gauzy veil of her half-mourning clothes obscuring her face. Her hands clutched the front of her dress nervously as she watched them from the foot of the staircase. Excellus, that smug toad, was blatantly staring from behind the bannister, while a short, muscular, redheaded woman stood a little ways behind Olivia in a protective stance.
A slow smirk curled the edges of Gaius' lips. "'Sup Babe. Wanna join in? We got cider."
"No thank you. And uncle, what are you doing, drinking again? You're going to need a surgeon at this rate…"
"Relax Livvy! It's just the hair of the dog," Basilio grinned. "I'm trying to be a good host."
"Pickled herring is not the answer to a night of binging, and cider will make it worse," Olivia said exasperatedly. She turned to Gaius. "Please, he's half-dead already. Can you take him upstairs to rest?"
"I'm not an invalid," Basilio complained.
"And why do I gotta do it?" Gaius chimed in. "We were having such a grand old time with Bubbles here."
There was a long, pregnant silence as Olivia's eyes turned to Robin expectantly.
Though she wanted to adjust her collar out of anxiety, Robin met her gaze evenly. Now that the lady of the house was here in the flesh, Robin could deliver Chrom's message and get it over with, the sooner the better, and to the mutual benefit of everyone involved. Olivia was probably sick of having to play games of artfully deflecting Chrom's unwanted attentions—he was kind enough to Robin and his subordinates, but snubbing men with his kind of power often did not go over well for women. Either way, Robin was determined to make this as quick and painless as possible.
But damn if the others had to make it so awkward with their staring.
"I was told y-you come bearing a message for the lady of the house," Olivia tried to control her voice.
"I do," Robin stood and bowed politely. "Might you be her?"
"...Well...if you could just state your business…"
"My message is for the lady's ears—"
"Look," the redheaded woman interrupted presumptuously. "We all know why you're here. That's nice of you and all, but we don't care how important you are, or even if Chrom himself sent you. So I'm gonna say it slowly in case you don't understand, and I'll tell you the same thing I told the others: you're better off just leaving."
"With all due respect, my message is rather short. If I could just say my piece, I promise to leave as quickly as possible," Robin smiled tersely.
"Then get it over with."
"It's for the lady's ears only."
The woman scoffed. "Of all the—look, if it's more of that lovey-dovey hogwash that Chrom's too scared to deliver himself, then you're wasting your time here, like all the other chumps before you. And if you're wasting our time, then what's the point?" Sully strode purposefully to the doorframe and held it wide open pointedly. "Ready to set sail, sir? The door's right here."
Excellus had never looked so smug in the short time Robin had known him.
Thoroughly fed up with the astounding rudeness she had encountered throughout the so far very short day, Robin walked up to the redhead and squared off resolutely, noting that she was at least a head taller than the brash woman. "The sooner I get it done, the faster I'm out of here, considering how eager everyone has been to get rid of me so far."
The woman's nostrils had begun to flare dangerously. While Robin noticed the servants edging away nervously, her anger at being treated so poorly overrode her senses. She looked the woman dead in the eye and said, "So, no, I'll have to decline your offer, because this boat's docking here a while longer, little sailor." And then she reached behind the woman and closed the door with a loud slam.
Despite the redhead's impressively fast lunge, Robin managed to pull her head back just in time to avoid what might have been a devastating punch. As the servants crowded around the furious woman, and Basilio left his seat to try and help to restrain her, Olivia threw herself in the middle of the fray.
"SULLY!" She admonished. "Control yourself!"
"If that little bastard thinks he can get away with being a smartass, he's got another thing coming!" Sully grunted and strained against the people holding her back.
"Let's not start an international incident right now!" Basilio heaved her over his shoulder like a sack of flour; it only angered Sully more, and soon her face was as red as her hair as she beat Basilio's back and spat profanities. Excellus looked entirely too amused with the situation, and Gaius looked as though he was about to die from laughter from his seat.
Olivia, on the other hand, looked as though she wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole. Mortified, she turned to Robin, hands clasped, eyes pleading. "If I agree to hear your message, you must promise me to leave so that peace can be restored here!"
"I'm sorry I interrupted your peace in the first place," an embarrassed Robin said.
"I think it's time for me to get some rest," Basilio started up towards the stairs with a still screaming Sully over his shoulder. "Gaius, mind giving this old man a hand?"
The ginger-haired man stopped laughing immediately. "C'mon, I can't miss this!"
"Gaius."
He sighed and joined Basilio at the foot of the stairs sulkily. "Fine." He turned to Excellus reproachfully. "Don't think you're gonna get to stand around here, Toady."
The very mention of such a name wiped the smirk off Excellus' face. "I need to stay put; why, if my lady requires anything—"
"She's got a whole houseful of servants, and she can go and scream for anyone she pleases. And besides, Bubbles said it was a private message," Gaius interrupted, relishing Excellus' increasingly sour expression.
The steward stared brazenly at Robin, wringing his hands just as Olivia did with the fine cloth of her dress. "Alright," he conceded grudgingly. Gaius did not budge until Excellus finally gave in and began to climb up the stairs behind Basilio. Gaius gave Robin an encouraging thumbs up from behind Excellus' back, and a relieved manservant closed the door on Robin and Olivia, finally leaving them alone.
The awkwardness of their meeting was punctuated by the solitary ticking of the large clock on the fireplace mantle. Robin scratched her nape, suddenly at a loss now that they were alone, and Olivia's hands migrated from her dress to picking at a stray thread on the cuff of a sleeve.
Robin looked askance at her. "I think that it might be best if we move somewhere else."
"O-oh?" Olivia replied, startled at being addressed.
Robin shrugged. "The others seem like the eavesdropping type."
A wry smile could be seen under Olivia's cloudy white veil. "They are. Y-you're rather good at reading others."
"So I've been told."
They stood in silence for yet a little while longer until Olivia interrupted their pause. "There's the drawing room a little ways behind here...we hardly use it anyways…"
"The drawing room it is, then."
The khatun led the way to a larger room decorated in the customary Ylissean blues and greens, making sure to lock the doors behind them. She bade Robin to sit with her on a set of chairs that were separated by a spindly tea-table stamped with the crest of house Ylisse. The heraldry was a pointed reminder of the task ahead, and both stewed a little while longer in their discomfort.
It was Olivia who took the initiative once more. "If you please…"
Robin swallowed nervously. "...Right." She stuck her fingers into her pocket discreetly to make sure Chrom's speech was still in there. "Though I'm supposed to recite a speech before getting to the point."
"What for?"
"Praising your finer points, apparently."
Olivia scoffed under her breath. "I'll let you get away with skipping the praise."
"That's too bad, because I spent a considerable amount of time memorising it. Chrom wrote it himself, and I think it's rather poetic," Robin frowned. She did not want to have her efforts go to waste.
Even from under the veil, Robin could see the lady rolling her eyes in open disdain. "That means it's more likely to be fake."
"No it's not," Robin insisted. "He was very earnest about it. And besides...I'm not going to let him make me do all the legwork, you know."
"But he's tried this before, don't you see? What's another messenger, then? What difference does it make, except for how exceptionally rude you were compared to the ones before you? And what difference will it make once you finally leave?" Olivia snapped.
"If I was rude, it was because of how poorly I was treated on arrival. Please...I come in peace. Once I explain myself, then you can finally rid yourself of me."
Robin was taken aback at Olivia's sudden display of anger. The khatun realised this as well, and brought a hand delicately to her face, suddenly feeling very sorry indeed. Basilio always said that it was unkind to take one's' anger out on the messenger; and yet here she was, as though she were an entitled, pompous lady and not one who had been taught better by her uncle and her parents.
"I...I'm sorry," Olivia apologised. "I...I would like to hear your piece, please."
"Thank you," Robin replied. She cleared her throat clumsily and wracked her brain for the appropriate words—it would have been incredibly uncouth to admit defeat and reach into her pocket for Chrom's paper. "'Most sweet lady—" She began.
Robin was interrupted by Olivia once more, in the form of a soft, barely discernible sigh.
"Pretty words!" Though her voice was low, the mocking tone was still heard. "He always tries to start off like that."
"His words are completely sincere, I assure you."
"He always sticks to those kind of openings. As though they were as immutable as the holy scriptures he reads for the masses he sometimes leads."
"Perhaps it's because those words are in the first chapter of his heart."
Olivia, shy as she was in fiddling with her dress and fidgeting in her seat, suddenly sat still as she regarded Robin attentively, her head cocked to the side. "If nothing else, I can see that he at least thought you speak well."
"May I see your face?"
The pink-haired woman was surprised by the request. "Whatever for?"
"Perhaps it's because he really isn't that different from other men and chose you for your beauty. It could explain why he's so determined to court you even though you're so openly contemptible of him. If nothing else, he's decided that your looks are worth it in spite of your disdain."
"How would you seeing my face be so important, if you're so convinced of what he thinks?"
"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Maybe his love for you is clouding his judgement, and all he needs is a second opinion to get him to change his mind."
The jab was quite blunt and deliberate, and, while Chrom's thoughts did not really bother Olivia, it still peeved her that this upstart was openly goading her. She did not consider herself vain, and yet—
It was working. Her looks had been subjected to the implication of ugliness before, as she was a woman who had been witness to the envy and carelessness of others. No, what hurt was the fact that this self assured young man had outright said that her looks were but a mere façade for an ugly personality.
And that she could not abide.
So she very carefully took off her half-mourning veil, slowly peeling it from below to first reveal her lips, then her nose, then her eyes. Olivia folded the soft cloth and set it in her lap after having made sure that its removal did not muss her curls, and then she turned to face Robin squarely.
"Well?" She tried to hide the quaver in her voice, hoping that it came out strong. "Do I look like I'm 'worth it?'"
Olivia was in fact very beautiful. Robin was embarrassingly speechless as she took in the lady's long, pink hair, her heart shaped face, and the nervous flush that coloured her cheeks and the undersides of her eyes. Chrom had indeed fallen for quite the beauty.
"W-well?" Olivia pressed anxiously. Her words snapped Robin out of her light daze.
"I would say so," Robin admitted. "But now I've seen what you're like. You're proud. But you'd still be beautiful even if you were as proud as a devil."
"Did you come here to praise my looks, insult me, or both?"
"We both know what I'm here for."
Olivia heaved another sigh. She turned to look out the window pensively, as though admiring the well kept greenery of the garden and its flowerbeds, but in reality deep in contemplation.
"At my age I might as well be a spinster," she said. "The idea doesn't sound too terrible. Why even bother marrying? All anyone seems to care about are my looks and my relation to Basilio. 'Lady,' they moan, 'you'd be the cruelest woman alive if you were to die with no children left behind to inherit your beauty.' Oh, but I'm not a cruel person. I'd make an inventory of me," Olivia rolled her eyes at the very thought, "all labeled down to the last detail: a pair of lips, of an ordinary shade; two eyes, gray, with lids on them; a head attached to a neck attached to a body. That way, future generations can enjoy me for as long as they like."
"Look, even with my past words, I don't think Chrom would be so selfish as to care for you as though you were only a painting in some collection," Robin protested.
Olivia quirked her eyebrow skeptically. "Oh? Then how does he love me?"
"Well...he thinks of you often. He gets lost in thought over you. He sighs, and moans, and—"
Olivia heaved her longest, most drawn-out sigh yet, and reclined morosely in her chair, nervously fiddling with the thin necklace she wore.
"I'm not making much of an impact here, I take it."
"No, but you're more self aware than his previous messengers, at least. It's just...Chrom knows what I think. I...I'm sure that he's a very kind man. He's young, and noble, and very rich and handsome. And everyone keeps assuring me of his fine reputation, of how generous and educated and brave he is. Any girl would be lucky to have the attentions of a man like that. But...I can't force myself to love him. No matter how many people or gifts he sends...I-I just can't. And he should have realised that before you came along."
The only sounds were that of Olivia swallowing and the wind rushing through the branches of the willow. Robin pondered the situation, torn between her refusal to admit defeat and fail in her promise to Maribelle and Chrom, and the fact that the woman before her had spelled out, very clearly, her complete lack of enthusiasm towards the prospect of returning Chrom's affections. What to do? What to say?
Damn Maribelle and Chrom for putting her in this situation. Damn herself for foolishly accepting their harebrained proposal in the first place.
Robin exhaled loudly through her nose. "If I'd love you as much as he does, hearing such a rejection would hurt."
"I'm sorry, but you have to understand that there's little he can do about it."
Robin smiled wryly. "A lot of men find no sense in denial. They think that the best strategy is to expend all their efforts on small approaches leading up to one final grand gesture—a cabin of willow," she motioned airily to the tree outside, "built outside their fair lady's doorstep, where they'd write songs of unrequited love and sing them all night long, hoping that pity will stir the woman's heart for them." Robin let her head loll back onto the chair's top rail. "As if."
"You speak as though from experience. I find it hard to believe that a man, especially as one as young as you, could speak so...eloquently on the subject." Olivia cocked her head to the side questioningly."
"Didn't you just say that you thought I spoke well?"
Olivia blinked owlishly, then covered her mouth to hide her tiny laugh and blush. "I did." Her smile broke some of the tension in the room and Robin reciprocated it. "I-I did hear that you're visiting royalty...I-I hope I'm not being too rude, but honestly, why are you doing this? Running matchmaking errands for Chrom seems so...below you."
"Chrom has been very kind to me and has shown himself to be a man I can trust. It may seem silly, to do things like this, but...I feel that this is the least I could do for him."
There was a hidden depth to those words that piqued Olivia's interest.
Robin noticed the longer shadows stretched out across the floor and the furniture, noting that it was past breakfast already. Feeling hunger gnawing at her insides and acutely aware of just how long she had spent trying to fruitlessly win Olivia over, she stood and bowed her head deferentially. "I'm sorry to have wasted your time, milady. I think it's best if I take my leave for the time being."
"I'll see you out—wait, 'for the time being?'"
The Plegian shrugged sheepishly. "As much as I want to respect your wishes, Chrom doesn't seem like the type of man to give up on matters of romance. Whether we want to or not, you might see me back here again soon."
Olivia frowned. That single-minded boneheadedness sounded like Chrom alright…"And you can't just put your foot down and refuse him?"
"Like I said, I owe him a debt."
The servants were conspicuously absent as they crossed the foyer to the threshold, and Olivia graciously held the door open for her guest. "As much as I dislike these kind of audiences...I appreciate your honesty, milord…?"
"Daraen, milady. Likewise; as strange and awkward as this has been, it has been a pleasure to talk," Robin replied courteously. The wind ruffled her white hair and she turned her eyes skyward, noting just how late in the day it was. It would do well for her to ask the cook for a late breakfast. "The next time we do see each other, I hope it's under more pleasurable circumstances than this."
As Olivia watched the strange young man walk across the castle lawn, a most peculiar sensation settled at the bottom of her heart. She was so engrossed in watching him leave that she ignored Sully bursting out from behind the parlour door with a very annoyed Lon'qu and Excellus in tow.
"You seriously didn't buy that load of crap he spewed back there?" Sully demanded.
Olivia had no answer.
And with this concludes the meeting between the two and the foundations for Olivia's infatuation. It was really fun to go through the book and No Fear Shakespeare for this. Next chapter will definitely be a return to the political aspect and Robin having to navigate through murky waters infested with sharks and assholes. Thanks for reading!