The end of this trimester is coming, thesis work is looming ever closer, and I'm halfway between excited for Spring Break and wanting to tear my hair out, haha.
I want to thank the readers who reviewed last chapter—it was really heartening to read your comments! Thanks to TaraTolmney and Lebrohnski for Keeping it short and sweet.
To Aylatha and AmeYuuki—if I let myself talk anymore I'd spoil the fic, so I'll tell you guys to wait and see!
To TheFreelancerSeal—never apologise! I adore reading your reviews and I'm just awed that you even deem this fit for reading. It's always a joy to get a notification from you, so don't sweat it.
This chapter will be taking a more lighthearted direction, will serve as the introduction for some more characters…and be the turning point for how Robin sees Chrom ;)
At first, Robin thought she was still dreaming, so the odd sensation of something brushing up against her face was waved aside.
But the feeling of her breath heating up against whatever was covering her mouth and nose became a touch too uncomfortable, and she blearily opened her eyes to see nothing but sepia.
Robin sat up with a groan. A piece of paper fell off her face with a rustle, and she blinked, still groggy, before picking it up. She scratched at the crustiness around her eyes as she read.
My Dearest Robin, a familiar, elegant script said. I am writing to inform you that the caravan should be arriving at any moment now! Your things are all there, as you've requested, and your lovely friends Tharja and Henry are en route to join you. Do keep in mind that the animals will need special care once they're stabled—gods know what that Ylissean castle is like, but their pegasi seem well-fed, at least. If you need anything else, don't hesitate to write back!
Love, Aversa.
Robin stared, stupefied, at the note. Her mouth hung open as her sleepy brain tried to process its contents. Then, quick as a flash, she flung her covers off, threw herself out of bed (tripping face-first into the floor with a loud smack), and ran to the desk to reply as fast as she could. She forgoed rooting around in the drawers for an inkpot and simply snatched a shard of charcoal from the hearth to use.
Where have you been? Robin scribbled furiously. I wrote at least a dozen times! What do you mean 'the caravan should be arriving at any moment'?
She spelled the parchment to Aversa and tapped her toes anxiously as she waited for a response. Robin snatched the paper out of the air the moment it poofed into existence, scanning Aversa's writing with a sinking feeling in her gut.
When I say 'at any moment,' I mean 'at any moment,' you numbskull. Robin could practically see Aversa rolling her eyes in practiced annoyance. Even when insulting her, the sorceress' writing was as impeccable as usual. So you should get ready to receive them. Don't worry about their state—they're armed and they have the crossing papers that prince of yours so generously provided. And I have been very busy keeping this country from falling apart in your absence, thank you very much.
Robin spluttered. She wrote BUSY?! and underlined it several times, tearing the parchment in the process.
She sent that one on its way as well, but no reply came, and so, nearly hyperventilating, Robin threw on a blanket over her nightshirt and some slippers.
Her ruckus stirred the servants on their pallets. "Your Highness? What is it?" Mary mumbled sleepily.
"I need to see Chrom!" Robin offered no further explanation as she hurled the door open and ran.
Karel and Rood were hot on her heels as she practically flew to Chrom's rooms. The sight of a dishevelled and barely dressed Plegian surprised his guards, giving her the opportunity to rush his door and pound it so hard that Lissa and her own servants poked their heads out of their own quarters.
"Chrom! CHROM!" Robin screeched.
Frederick muscled his way through the threshold with a clearly displeased expression emphasising his customary scowl. Chrom, his sleep-lined face pulled into a half yawn as he answered Robin's call, came shortly after.
"Daraen? But it's so early—what's wrong? What happened?"
Robin's words came out in a rapid-fire jumble. "I need your help! It's urgent!"
"Wha—? What happened?" He pushed his way out from behind Frederick and placed his hands on her shoulders in an attempt to calm her.
"I just received word that my people are coming, and coming soon. We need to tell the others to let them through."
His blue brows knitted together, confused. "I've heard no news of this. Surely they're farther off than you think?"
At that very moment, a guard in full uniform skidded to a halt at the end of the hallway, regaining his posture and sprinting up to them panting. "Sire!" He bowed, ungainly in his sweaty armour. "Plegians! Spotted at the city gates!"
Chrom's mouth fell open. "Well, speak of the devil…" He turned to look at Robin with a critical eye. "They have their papers in order?"
"Yes," she affirmed.
"Good." He returned his gaze to the guard, all sleepiness gone from his voice as he assumed a commanding pose and a clear, strong intonation. "Ready the men! They are to be allowed through, but keep them closely guarded. Alert the gatekeepers and have the wardens stand down! They come in peace and they come as guests."
The guard saluted and ran back to his post.
Chrom shouted brief orders at Frederick and his servants, retreating to his room to emerge shortly in a fresh shirt and pair of trousers. Robin ignored the formality of dressing herself, to Chrom's surprise, and she sprinted away with him following closely.
"This is odd. Why didn't you hear from them sooner?" Chrom's query was a little too on the nose for Robin's comfort as they ran to the entrance. The castle's inhabitants were waking up due to the noise, all in a tizzy as a distorted game of 'he-said-she-said' gave them the impression that Plegians had invaded Ylisstol and were advancing upon them.
"I don't know! A-and anyways, shouldn't your border controls have alerted you, at least? Or anyone else?"
Now it was Chrom's turn to look abashed. "Communications have been really spotty ever since the war. I don't think we have a functioning mail service to speak of at the moment."
And speaking of mail! As thought Aversa heard them, a square of paper popped into Robin's face. She ripped it off and read Aversa's—finally!—reply, her irritation increasing with every letter.
Yes, 'busy.' Putting down rebellions and keeping everyone fed and stopping bandits from making off with everything is no easy task, I can assure you. Rulership is just so difficult, and you're not helping matters, my dear. I simply don't have the spare time to pay attention to you every moment you come crying for help. I've been so busy, in fact, that I'm starting to feel a bit envious over that little holiday of yours. You can make it up to me with a pay raise once you're done with your Ylissean jaunt!
PS—your handwriting is as atrocious as ever.
A kiss mark decorated the end of the postscript. Robin's face was as red as the rouge when she finished reading, and she crumpled the note and stuffed it down her front in a huff.
"Everything alright?" Chrom asked, baffled at the exchange, but thankfully not prying further.
Robin paid him no mind. You've been busy? So have I! she fumed. Aversa, you idiot!
Robin slid down a staircase bannister, scandalising some of the courtiers who had exited their apartments. Chrom had always been more gifted in the physical department, so he regulated his pace so as not to overtake her.
It was still dark out when the pair reached the castle entrance, Robin panting lightly as she wrapped her blanket tighter around her chest. Chrom signalled to the guards to lower their weapons. Gaggles of nobles and other castlefolk clustered around on the ramparts, the windows, the lawn, all wanting to see as much of the Plegians as their own fear would permit them. It was a sight that made Robin feel very self conscious.
Chrom's hand was warm when he grasped her shoulder firmly. She had to admit that it was very comforting whenever he did so, but she would never ever say that to his face.
"Don't worry," he said, with a smile just as nice as his gesture. "It'll be fine. I'll make sure of it."
Short of having everyone obviously dying to murder each other in the courtyard, then I'd have to agree with you. Robin mentally sighed as her intrusive thoughts ruined the moment once again.
A long time passed. The onlookers were beginning to show their restlessness—grumbling, mumbling, a few of them even turning back inside to catch some more sleep before the day officially started. Robin, tempted to chew on a hangnail to keep her apprehensiveness at bay, remembered that Chrom was right next to her and felt that it would look quite unattractive to start gnawing on her finger like a dog with a juicy bone.
Wait. Since when does it matter if something is unattractive to him or not? Especially with the way he dresses himself if Frederick doesn't help?
"Oh, look!" A shriek from the ramparts broke the uneasy lull over the courtyard. The guards confirmed that the caravan was wending its way up the bridge to the castle. The gatekeepers confirmed the authenticity of the caravan's travel documents and signalled the allowance of passage with a great screeching and clanking of chains and steel.
The Pegasus Knights, who had been summoned by Frederick, enclosed the duo in a defensive circle.
Robin allowed herself some pride despite her misgivings. The procession that marched through the gates was grand indeed, and as impressive as Robin expected of Aversa. Horses tossed their heads spiritedly as their riders guided their fanciful pacing around her and Chrom. Giant ibex, stately and composed, pulled massive covered wagons behind them; camels followed suit with a great deal of moaning and groaning along with mighty elephants bearing howdahs. It was a veritable zoo!
Robin smiled as the final spectacle of the parade arrived: wyverns soared over the walls, to the mixed horror and delight of the castle's occupants, twisting and tumbling in the air until they began circling in the sky and lowered themselves to a stop in an elegant finish.
For all the dazzle, the guards still had their hands poised on their weapons. Some of the castlefolk hid their eyes as the animals' riders dismounted. The display of such naked distrust was hurtful to Robin, and she swallowed a hard lump in her throat in disappointment.
Chrom placed his hand on her shoulder. That's the third time today, Robin mused. He shook it comfortingly, that winning smile of his so transparently reassuring, and pushed her to walk with him to receive the Plegians. Cordelia's expression was openly shocked as he bade her step aside.
"Greetings, friends!" Chrom's tone, though perfectly rehearsed, was enthusiastic and friendly. "We hope that you faced no hardship on your journey. Allow us to formally welcome you to the castle—we hope to provide you with a restful stay and a taste of what Ylisstol has to offer."
There was no response from the Plegians. A discontented frisson ran through the crowd of Ylisseans, murmurs of distrust and disapproval at what they thought was disrespect, ungraciousness, impudence…and just when they had arrived, too.
Chrom's smile faltered ever so slightly. He turned his eyes to Robin as subtly as he could, questioning.
One of the elephant mahouts tapped the largest bull's knee with a sturdy rod, and the massive beast kneeled. A jewel-clad foot emerged from the howdah; a long, slim leg followed, bare up to the thigh, eliciting gasps; and it ended with the curvaceous figure of the sorceress Tharja, wearing nothing but a sheer black body mesh under a golden loincloth and breast band. Robin was hyper aware of the stares following the woman—shocked, uneasy, lustful—with every hip swinging step she took closer.
"Greetings, Prince Chrom." Tharja's eyes, dark and intense, never strayed from the pair as she bowed before them. "We are so grateful to you for taking our beloved Daraen under your wing. Ylisse is truly magnanimous, to shelter him in such a precarious time. The very thought of staying apart from him brought anguish to our hearts!"
Tharja then strode forward, completely unprompted, and gathered up Robin in a lung crushing hug whilst smothering her face in kisses that made Robin feel as though Tharja was attempting to break her face as well. She heaved and coughed when she was released.
The display was simply too much for the sensibilities of Ylisstol's court, it seemed. A collective gasp from the crowd pulled Chrom out of his own surprised reaction to shush them, rather loudly, before turning to address Tharja. "I–uh–we are very happy to have him in our company. He is a wonderful guest and a formidable presence at the summit table."
Robin beamed at such kind compliments. Tharja raised an eyebrow and smiled. "Yes, our prince is such a gifted man. We are blessed to have him as our future king," she said, showing off perfectly straight teeth.
Chrom winced, as though in pain. And yet the gesture was so minute, so brief, that Robin thought she had imagined it. "You must be exhausted after such a long journey. I can't imagine that crossing a desert is an easy task, even to those who call it home." He waved some servants over and began directing them to take the newest visitors' belongings. "Allow us to have some proper accommodation fixed up for you and your animals stabled properly."
"Your generosity is most gracious. Truly, our relations are in good hands indeed," Tharja replied with that curious toothy look again.
Suddenly, a blond man rushed up to them and threw a great black cloak over Tharja. Chrom and Robin sputtered as he fastened it hastily over her bosom. Tharja's expression changed from charmingly diplomatic to murderous in the blink of an eye.
The Plegians were offended—they thought the Ylisseans disapproved of her clothing.
"Pray tell," she demanded lowly, a hint of her true voice trickling out, "what you think you're doing, putting your hands on me like that."
"I am SO sorry—" Chrom apologised.
"No, it is I who should be sorry." The man's tone was soft and compunctious. Robin suddenly remembered him as one of the custodians of Emmeryn's tomb. "But I simply couldn't bear to hear a lady's dignity being called into question by a pack of boorish oafs. I told them they should bite their tongues for such awful words, yet I was mocked for it. Perhaps I cannot force them to stop thinking evil thoughts, but, at the very least, I can try to shield you from their sinful gazes."
Tharja stared stonily at the man for a tense few seconds. Chrom and Robin exchanged apprehensive glances. The stiffness finally broke after Tharja granted her unexpected gallant a sweet smile. "And they said chivalry was dead. What is your name, brave knight?"
"Libra, milady." He bowed deeply. "I am afraid to say I am no knight, but a humble monk in Lord Chrom's service."
"A man of the faith who practices what he preaches! My oh my, I have found myself a rare specimen indeed. And you, Prince Chrom, must feel quite lucky to have him in your possession."
"Y-yes I am." Chrom stammered in amazement at the abrupt turn of events. It was a little too much to handle, and they had not even had breakfast yet. "Libra is—Libra was one of my Shepherds. I can personally vouch for his impeccable character."
"You flatter me, milord," Libra murmured.
Tharja snaked her arms up Libra's and pulled him close enough to press into her breast. A low chorus of envious men was angrily hushed by their wives. "Then you won't mind if I steal him for a little while then? Just so he can escort me to my prince's quarters."
Chrom gaped, taken aback at such boldness, and on one of his former Shepherds to boot. "Uh—I-I believe there's no issue…?"
"Thank you." Tharja grinned and dragged her captive behind her with surprising speed as she took her leave.
"Milord Chrom, shouldn't I have a say in this?" Libra called back uselessly.
Robin shrugged at Chrom and hastily excused herself to catch up to Tharja.
The sorceress played the part of a coquettish tease so obnoxiously that it was a wonder Libra had not fled in terror yet…partly due to the vice grip Tharja still had over the poor man's arm. She pestered him over his life in the castle, his monkish duties, and some personal details as she batted her eyelashes and giggled and fawned. Libra was taking it all in stride, to Robin's amazement, gamely fielding Tharja's line of questioning and allowing her to cut off the circulation in his limb as Robin led them to her rooms. He was the envy of every man who crossed paths with them.
When they finally arrived, Tharja made loud exclamations of sadness over Libra's departure. Once he had assured her enough times of promising to be available to her, her cries turned to ones of pleasure and she ended their exchange with a face breaking kiss on his cheek.
Robin, bemused, could do nothing more than raise an eyebrow as she allowed Tharja inside and closed the door.
"I'm terribly sorry, ladies," Tharja said to Robin's astonished servants. "But I'm afraid I need some time alone with my lord, so it's best you all leave us for now."
Robin cringed as she saw the cogs in their heads turning to the erroneous assumption that she and Tharja were lovers requesting some privacy. Mary tsked disapprovingly at Tharja's wardrobe, but said nothing else, as the women and men vacated Robin's guest room in a single file.
"Thanks a lot for that. Now they think I'm some promiscuous freak wanting a romp in the sheets," Robin groaned. "And you can drop the act now. It's just us here…and Henry."
Tharja's true self was revealed instantly: not the hip-swinging seductress who flirted with Ylissean monks in front of an audience, but a withdrawn, moody woman given to frequent bouts of irritability and a razor-sharp tongue. She kicked off her undoubtedly uncomfortable high-heeled sandals and threw herself onto Robin's bed. What seemed like an innocent pile of sheets was actually masking an invisibility spell; a white-haired young man uttered a loud oof and laughed when Tharja landed on him.
"Move," she hissed.
"Aw, but I was so comfy! These Ylissean beds are nice," Henry grinned. "And how'd you know I was here? I thought I did a pretty good job with my spell—"
"I'm not asking you," Tharja shoved him off the bed with a snarl.
Robin, rolling her eyes, sank into a couch with another groan. "Do you always have to bicker like that with him?"
Tharja ignored her. "I hate men," she growled in her real voice, a low, cynical rasp. "You could practically hear those nasty dogs drooling from the moment they saw me in this. And you know what? I hate this stupid outfit too. Can't believe Aversa made me wear this damn thing, I spent the entire trip with this thong digging into my arse, and these abominations are murder on my feet."
"You didn't seem to hate Libra though," Robin pointed out rather caustically.
"Oh, him? Mister Goody Two-Shoes is tolerable enough." Tharja waved the observation away. "But as for your act, 'Daraen?' You're doing a terrible job of it."
Robin spluttered. "What do you mean by that?"
"The only reason you're getting away with pretending to be your brother is because these dumb Ylisseans don't know him well enough. And they certainly don't know he has a twin sister running around."
"Tharja's right," Henry agreed, seemingly uncaring of the sorceress's harsh treatment as he sidled up to Robin and put an arm around her. "You two are pretty different: he's a whole head taller, for starters. His voice is also deeper, he's quieter, more sensitive, he's got better control over his temper, better social skills, more patience—"
"Are you here to help me or insult me?" Robin snapped, flushing at the accuracy of Henry's assessment (not that she was unaware of her shortcomings, but still).
"Then again, he's also a huge pushover and a weaker fighter, but both of you are workaholic self-conscious perfectionists who can't cook worth a—"
"I GET IT." She took a deep, calming breath and rubbed her temples exasperatedly. Gods were these two a handful. "I'm just trying to keep it all together without being found out, alright? I'm already running ragged over putting on a farce and sitting at a table with men who hate me, want me dead, and the ones who somehow do like me have weird hang-ups over my skin colour."
She was absolutely not telling them about the Olivia mess under any circumstance.
"And that's why we're here to help you! Gods know what you'd do without us," Tharja drawled. She rose to answer a knock at the door, revealing Ylissean and Plegian servants bearing armloads of baggage and heavy trunks. Her thank you did not sound very thankful at all, and she barely gave them a chance to unload the hefty cargo into the room before shooing them out.
"That was rude of you," Robin admonished her, yet was unsurprised over her attitude.
"Hm. Don't care."
"I care," Robin scolded testily. "They've been very helpful to me here and took care of my needs. And they're working on Chrom's direct orders, you know? I'm not throwing his generosity back in his face like that, and I don't want us to look ungrateful, so you need to behave yourself."
"Yes, mother dearest." Tharja rolled her eyes and began throwing out garments at random. There were silks, linens, fresh cotton shirts, and colourful patterned kaftans and şalvars and jubbas and slippers. The sorceress began sorting them into piles and picking some out seemingly at random.
Henry was fascinated by the room's decor. He selected a puzzle box from the desk with a delighted chirp and threw himself back onto the bed as he worked on it. "I'm starving. When do you think they'll have the feast ready?"
"Well, breakfast is barely getting served right about now, dinner is at noon, and then supper is right around sundown," Robin said.
"Oh no, I'm talking about our feast."
"What do you mean?"
"Aversa sent some cooks over because she said that you shouldn't have to live off gross Ylissean gruel while you're here. And she told them that the first thing they should do is make this big huge fancy feast and put on a party. 'Blow their puny little minds away with our superior tastes,'" Henry mimicked Aversa in a sing-song voice that would have resulted in him being strangled by the real Aversa.
Robin's mouth fell slightly open. "And when was I going to find out about this?"
Henry shrugged, sticking out his tongue as he focused on a particularly difficult puzzle turn. "Eventually."
"Which is why you need to start choosing what you're going to wear tonight," Tharja added, seizing Robin's wrist and dragging her bodily to the centre of the room. She stripped off her blanket and nightshirt in one go and Robin shrieked at the audacity, covering herself.
Tharja clicked her tongue. "Oh please, as though we haven't all seen each other naked and taken baths together. You haven't been here for long and already those prudish Ylissean sensibilities are rubbing off on you."
Outraged, all Robin could do was stutter and splutter and struggle to keep her red face in check. "It's not that—! You should warn me first!" she protested. "It hasn't been easy having to sneak around constantly just to get changed and you come here acting so casual about it."
"Don't care." Tharja's flippancy changed abruptly. Frowning, she did a double take. She raised Robin's arms away from her body.
"What? You missed my breasts or something?" Robin grumbled snippily.
"You've been binding, haven't you?"
"Uhhhhh." Robin deflated, meek, and pulled her head into her shoulders sheepishly. "No…?" She thought guiltily back to the bandages she had been stealing from the infirmary ward.
Tharja scoffed in complete exasperation. "Ugh! You're hopeless. Don't you realise how bad that is for you?"
"What was I supposed to do? Let them hang out carelessly so everyone will know I'm not who I say I am?"
"You use magic, what else? You are one of Plegia's best mages. You've solved bigger problems than this. You're our leader and yet the moment your body is concerned you become dumber than a rock."
"That is so rich coming from the woman who thought she was dying when her first blood came."
Tharja's eyes narrowing was the only warning Robin had before the sorceress snapped her perfectly manicured fingers. Robin's breasts suddenly flattened themselves against her body with a loud smack, and Henry roared with laughter as Robin doubled over, wheezing, from the pain.
"You're not seriously saying this is the solution?" Robin gasped.
Tharja, smirking, dumped a pile of clothes on the bed. "No, but that's what you get for being smart with me. We'll just cast an illusion over your chest. Now start picking out what you're going to wear. We have a very long day ahead: we have to get you in the bath quick, because you've been neglecting your skin and it shows, your elbows are so ashy; then we have to do your hair, because it looks like a rat's nest; then some jewellery—"
"Your concern is noted," Robin muttered sarcastically as the sorceress marched her to the washroom.
"So-o-o-o." Henry perched himself at the tub's lip as Tharja mercilessly dunked Robin in scented water and soaps, almost to the point of drowning. "What about that Chrom guy?"
Robin, spitting out suds, held on to the edge of the basin for dear mercy. "You mean Prince Chrom? What about him?"
"You seem to really really like him."
"Why wouldn't I? He's been very kind to me. I'm surprised he'd even host me at all."
"No, I mean like really really like like. You think he's cute? Is it the blue hair?"
Robin choked on a mouthful of water and coughed up half a lung, howling as Tharja's rough hands got soap in her eyes. Of all the times to be asking that—! "I do not 'like like' him," she ground out.
"You seemed to be pretty relaxed around him," Henry said. "And you obviously liked it when he said those nice things about you."
"Like a dog wagging its tail when praised by its master," Tharja snickered, pouring a generous amount of soap onto Robin's nape.
Robin, instantly fed up with their questioning, pushed Tharja's hands away. "I am NOT discussing these sort of things with you two, alright? I don't like him that way. He's a very kind man, and he's done a lot for me, but that doesn't mean I find him handsome or anything of the sort. Understood?"
Her nosy attendants shared a look and barely suppressed snorts. "I didn't call him handsome—you did," Henry giggled.
The bathroom echoed with shrieks and cackles of laughter as Henry ran in circles, avoiding a sudsy Robin chasing him around the tub with a bar of soap.
Robin surveyed the organised chaos from the landings. It seemed as though Plegia had conquered Ylisstol Castle, as the entire place was awash in Plegian colours and banners: purples, golds, and rich reds draped across columns and balconies, and Tharja barked orders at servants, Plegians and Ylisseans alike. The air was thick with the scent of cooking and spices.
Robin was unsure of whether to feel excited or afraid over what would come next.
"Feel ready?" Henry asked. He was dressed in golden sandals, a sandy tunic, and a black cape and şalvar along with a purple cobra hood ruff. Heavy gold cuffs and a collar completed the ensemble and gave him a much more formal appearance compared to his easygoing attitude. Robin wished she felt as confident as he looked.
"Not really," she gulped. "Let's just get this over with."
The two descended the stairs to great pomp and fanfare, horn blasts nearly deafening them and ostrich feather fans threatening to muss their hair. Tharja had spent hours combing them to achieve a look that was simultaneously effortless and painstaking and would not be pleased if they undid her work. Robin was, to put it mildly, completely uninterested in the aesthetic side of things. But alas! Her station required her to submit to the rigours of fastidious grooming.
She had to admit that Tharja did an excellent job. Her body felt free and refreshed in Plegian garb. No longer did she have to stuff her Ylissean trousers, or close her vests and doublets restrictively tight over a bound chest; instead, an illusory spell gave the impression of a male body underneath a wonderfully loose cotton tunic, with a deep purple kaftan stitched in gold over it and Henry holding up its train. A braided leather and gold belt held it together, golden cuffs adorned her wrists, a gold earring hung in her right earlobe, and a golden thorned circlet crowned her head. In spite of herself, Robin was quietly amazed at how royal she looked.
(Though Tharja had insisted on her tunic being cut low down to her sternum to show off her thick necklace…and the fake pectorals the sorceress included in the spell)
The Ylisseans were awed. They watched raptly in a mix of fascination and fear as the "prince" of Plegia walked the length of the throne room down to the dais where she and the other ambassadors paid their respects to Chrom on the day of her arrival. The prince of Ylisse and his sister were waiting, just like before, to receive her.
Only this time it was she who was expected to deliver a speech. She was rather terrified.
Robin smiled wanly at Chrom's appreciative and encouraging grin. You look good! he mouthed, and she lightly tapped his shoulder in thanks before turning to the massive audience waiting for her.
Right. No pressure. Just…talking. You're good at that…right?
She gulped audibly. Lissa shot her a sympathetic glance.
"My countrymen," she began tremulously. She mentally cursed. "And my Ylissean hosts. I thank you all for coming to hear my words."
Oh good gods, can you sound any more boring? Okay, think. Don't make it too long—keep it nice and sweet. Be thankful and polite and uhhhhh…no, just keep it short and then go on to the presents. Everyone loves presents.
"These are difficult times we live in. Not long ago we were mortal enemies who only saw each other on the battlefield instead of sharing a meal at a table. It is my hope that we can come together and change that, so that all our interactions may be as f-friends."
Robin gulped hard. She was stuck on the next few words.
But then Chrom gave her another smile, and she relaxed. It was very comforting to know that he had her back. Whatever blunder she might commit onstage, he would not hold it against her; in fact, he would probably have a laugh with her over it, and all her embarrassment would be forgotten in that moment with him. And so her doubts faded.
"In fact," Robin said, and she had to bite her lip to fight off the rush of warmth colouring her pale skin, "despite only being here for a short while, I would gladly count Prince Chrom as a dear friend. In the time I've known him, he has been nothing but kind, welcoming, and understanding. And it is precisely that kindness of his that gives me hope for our countries; that we may build powerful bonds that will take us to a brighter future for all."
The Plegians were absolutely taken with her speech and applauded rapturously. The Ylissean reception was more mixed, with some pleased, some lukewarm, and the results were similar across the Valmese, Feroxi, and Rosannois audiences.
But it was Chrom's touched expression that made it worthwhile.
"To celebrate our friendships and our futures, I would very much like to present you all with some gifts from Plegia." Robin started down the stairs and signalled Chrom and Lissa to follow. The entire crowd followed suit.
First, Robin presented the Plegian menagerie in the courtyard. The vast majority of the people had never seen the native fauna of Plegia before, save for perhaps in books and paintings, and even the most hard-headed courtier was astonished at such sights. Trained keepers stood guard to protect the onlookers from the beasts shown to them: the elephants, trumpeting loudly as they tossed their trunks; skittish fallow deer; the giant ibex whose massive horns rivalled even the tallest men in size; and the camels, whose spitting and groaning provoked much laughter.
Robin gifted a number of these animals to the royal siblings: outrageously coloured parrots and storks and cranes, destined for a new aviary in the gardens; swift desert horses and dogs whose beautiful spotted and striped coats elicited much admiration (and in Lissa's case, tears of joy over receiving their kisses); deer for the hunt; and a handsome pair of cheetahs that used to be hers and Daraen's. She felt a twinge of sadness as she handed their golden leads to Chrom, but felt reassured that they were in good hands.
For the next presentation, Robin led them all to the great dining hall. The show of wealth and colour was incredible, though unsurprising, as Robin had expected nothing less from Aversa. The entirety of the room looked like the interior of a desert tent and had been outfitted in sumptuous silks and braziers and carpets and cushions. She bade everyone to take their shoes off and sit cross legged as the next round of gifts was laid out.
Now the next items were luxuries indeed…partly why the war had been waged, in fact. It was no secret that Ylisse had long been envious over Plegia's material wealth and trade with Chon'sin. With no direct eastern maritime route to the Valmese continent, they had been forced to depend on Plegia as a middleman, and there was ferocious dispute as to whether their sales practices were fair. But Robin hoped to change that, at least by placating the nobility with a gesture of friendship…and a sort of bribe.
She gave them beautiful silks and cottons and linens for their clothes and decorations. Copper and bronze for their tools and lamps; damascened steel and silver and gold for their jewellery and weapons. She gave them perfumes in whimsical glass bottles, and exotic flowers for their gardens. She gave them rugs, spices (cinnamon, pepper, nutmeg, cumin), ivory, furs, sweets (sugar, vanilla, and cacao from Plegia's island territories), jewels, tea, and fruits (oranges, lemons, pomegranates, dates).
Would it ever be enough? Robin fretted as the people oohed and ahhed over the products. Would it convince the people of Ylisse that her intentions were genuine?
Perhaps not. Already the atmosphere was suffused thickly with greed, as the nobility carded over the gifts and admired their quality. The eyes of many were alight not with appreciation, but avarice.
In an attempt to clear the air, Robin called for the feast to be served and for their entertainment to show off their skills.
"This is wonderful, Daraen!" Chrom marvelled at the huge spread laid out before them. Plegian cuisine was served all at once, and not in courses, as the Ylisseans and Rosannois preferred. The smell of dishes such as kushari, dolma, and yoghurt sprinkled with mint invigorated their appetites tremendously. Chrom served himself a heap of everything but was puzzled over the lack of utensils.
Robin shook her head with a grin. "You're supposed to eat with your hands, but there's a spoon for the yoghurt."
"Ah. Thanks."
As she coached him through the intricacies of folding rice and meat into flatbread, their entertainers dazzled them with their daring and finesse. There were fire-breathers, magicians, and dancers who performed all sorts of marvels and tricks to the breathless delight of their audience.
Chrom, it seemed, was especially captivated by the dancers. "Just look at them," he sighed wistfully. Food was falling carelessly from his limp hand as he watched the beautiful men and women twirling and jumping in their red costumes. "They're like Olivia. Granted, I've only seen her dance once, but it's similar…they've got those disks and silks she throws around…but they're not as beautiful or graceful." He sighed again as a handful of rice plopped into his lap.
Robin was peeved. She had nothing personal against Olivia, but she was rather hoping to simply enjoy the feast and not have to think about the Feroxi, the war, her possibly dead brother, or anything else related to the constant stress she was usually subjected to. Henry's personality assessment was a dead-ringer that hurt her more than she cared to admit, and she hoped to try and prove him at least somewhat wrong by attempting to let loose a bit. Chrom was certainly not helping matters with his lovelorn mooning.
"Have an orange. You haven't tried them yet," she ground out, handing him a particularly fat and heavy one.
Thankfully, that seemed to do the trick. "I've never seen this type of fruit before." He inspected its pebbled peel and sniffed it curiously.
"They're juicy and sweet. I think you'll like them. There's nothing more refreshing than having some fruit on a hot summer's day, especially when there's an orange in the mix."
"Thank you." His expression fell into pensiveness. He rolled the orange absently around in his hands, staring hard at it, pursing his lips. The gesture was uncharacteristic of him and it worried Robin. "When you…" Chrom finally spoke after a long pause. "When you said that in your speech…did you really mean it?"
"Mean what?"
There was something odd in Chrom's eyes that tugged unexpectedly at her heart when he raised his head to look into her own. Something nakedly frightened and vulnerable…yet also profoundly sincere and hopeful. "About you considering me a friend."
Robin had been punched in the gut many, many times before; somehow, Chrom's quiet words were comparable. Was this an admission of sorts?
Was he honestly saying he wanted them to be friends?
The thought was daunting. The concept of friendship was not one that Robin was intimately acquainted with, nor even casually knowledgeable of. Yes, there were people she got along with, and people she loved, like her brother (she was not even touching the Say'ri incident), but friends? Robin was unsure if anyone fit in that category—even Tharja and Henry, despite their banter and mutual trust. They were simply assigned to her as servants ever since Validar brought her and Daraen down from the mountains. But now, six words from Chrom was all it took for her to reevaluate the basis of their relationship beyond master and servants.
Especially difficult was Chrom's indirect gesture of friendship.
Robin turned to look at the rest of the Plegians in attendance. Henry was performing neat little spells for a gaggle of children surrounding him, and Tharja, in an even skimpier outfit than before, had chosen to sit next to Libra and make increasingly explicit overtures to the befuddled monk (to the jealousy of many staring men) for her own entertainment. Then Robin forced herself to meet Chrom's blue eyes.
A rush of affection for those three overtook her; those who had stuck by her during extremely difficult times, who had made her feel welcomed and wanted, and who helped her during the dangerous and difficult journey she had to take to even be in Ylisstol.
"I did mean it," Robin declared resolutely.
A brilliant smile shone on Chrom's face, as though a sunbeam was focused on him. Those blue eyes crinkled delightfully at the corners and his cheeks dimpled, and the warmth invading Robin's very skin prompted a smile of her own, genuinely happy at the sight.
Thought they now ate in silence, they did so with a newfound sense of companionship. Chrom was still smiling even as he bit into the orange, skin and all, and spat out a pulpy bitter mess.
"I thought you said oranges are juicy and sweet!"
"They are!" Robin guffawed uncontrollably. "Y-you just have to peel them first."
Poor Robin won't know what hit her until it's too late. As for how well she'll take it…that's yet to be determined. And that's not even counting all the obstacles and problems she'll have to solve first!