RIP my orbs in Heroes…f!Grima and Exalted Chrom are back…but at least the game is least a little more generous with awarding orbs, unlike how greedy Pocket Camp got with the leaf ticket items and the travesty that was the latest fishing tourney :(

Many thanks to newmrsdewinter for her impeccable editing skills and encouragement, and to Iturbide for screaming in the chat and helping me to get those brain juices flowing!

Chrom lay on his back, heavily winded from being thrown as though he were little more than a rag doll, and his eyesight slowly returning to normal from being blinded; he was sure that his eyebrows had been partially singed as well.

What he had just witnessed went beyond any kind of magic he had seen so far in his short life. Nothing came close to the raw power and fury of the storm that Robin had called down.

Robin!

He scrambled to his feet in a near-blind panic, worried sick over her and his comrades, only to find himself slipping and sliding in mud as a sudden downpour drenched them all and doused the flaming forest in a cooling rain.

"Milord!" Frederick was right by his side to steady him. Lissa was already on her feet and her dress was soaked right through.

"Where's everyone else?" Chrom gasped through the water sluicing down his face and plastering his hair down flat.

"All accounted for," Frederick assured. His grip was iron-tight and his armour had become unbearably cold in the rain. Henry was treading mud and barely hanging on tight to him with his one good arm.

"And Robin?"

Henry let go to point forward, falling bottom first into the muck with a loud splash. "She hasn't moved from there! For a captain, you're not a very observant one!"

Ignoring Frederick's instant rebuke of the young mage, Chrom whipped his head around, finding Robin right where she had squared off with the Risen Chief.

She had not moved from her spot at all. Chrom had to squint through the rain to focus on her dark form, which the storm obscured further, but he was deeply relieved to see that she seemed to have not suffered any damage or blowback whatsoever from her ferocious attack. He took a step forward.

Robin instantly snapped to attention and her entire body whirled around to face him in a tense battle position. That terrifying red glow of her eyes shone through the dark like a pair of demonic beacons.

"It's me, Robin!" He held his hands up. "The battle has been won! Those things are no longer a threat!"

She seemed to have not heard him. She swayed unsteadily on her feet and took a step back.

"Robin, please." Chrom reached out to her, pleading. "It's me. We're safe now."

His words finally seemed to have gotten through the haze clouding her thoughts; she walked, slowly, to his open arms, until she began swaying and staggering drunkenly. Chrom was already running as the last of her strength failed her and she collapsed face first into the mud.

He slid to his knees and rolled her on her side, pulling her into his arms. "Robin!" He shook her, alarmed. "Robin! Wake up!"

Frederick splashed through the waterlogged earth, hot on Chrom's heels, dragging Henry by the arm and Lissa trailing behind. They huddled closely around the pair as Chrom removed his glove and pressed his hand to the exposed skin of her neck.

"She's ice cold," he said anxiously, "and she's not waking up."

"Look." Henry pointed and leaned over Chrom's head in a gesture that had Frederick, scowling, pull him back by his shirt collar. "She's breathing."

Though her breath was soft, shallow, and barely discernible over the rain, her chest rose and fell in a tell-tale motion of life. Chrom exhaled a sigh of relief, wiping water out of his eyes. Lissa squeezed his shoulder supportively and reached out to touch Robin as well.

"We better get inside quick," she warned. "This rain doesn't look like it's going to let up anytime soon. And catching a cold won't help whatever injuries she might have."

Carefully holding the back of her head, Chrom heaved themselves both up, grateful for Frederick's support as the knight kept him from slipping. Now that he had Robin secure and in his arms, they began the clumsy, painstakingly slow trek to the fort. Had it not been for Frederick, Chrom would have toppled straight into the mud and taken Robin down with him.

He shuddered at the sudden change in temperature upon entering; the soldiers had built a small fire with some fuel they had managed to salvage, and were now feeding it branches in an attempt to help it grow. Though the wet wood would manage to burn longer, having it burn at all was a struggle.

"Everyone alright?" Sully, soaking wet, immediately stood at attention from the corner she had been occupying to tend to a scrape on her arm.

"So far, so good," Chrom replied. "Help me with her, will you? We need to get her dry and check her for any damage."

Sully frowned. Chrom wondered at the reaction, but said nothing as she helped to lower Robin carefully to the floor and close to the fire. Sully's glower deepened when Chrom unfastened his cape and balled it up to pillow Robin's head.

"Those who are unhurt, gather round—we shall attend to those who need our help with lady Lissa, and we will then clear the surrounding area of debris once the rain has stopped," Frederick announced to the packed room.

Chrom surveyed their surroundings. They were all spilled haphazardly across the fort's anteroom, with many more piling in from the roof and the cellar. The prisoners had been kept safe, and were now eyeing the flurry of tired activity with a mix of wariness and awe. Frederick divided their forces thusly: a third to patch up the fort's leaks, a sixth to watch over the prisoners, another to stand guard around their encampment, and a final third to treat the wounded. The little dog Henry had with him was huddled in the corner, soaking wet and shaking.

Lissa was right in the thick of it, with her hands buried deep into a soldier's gut—a nasty slash sustained from a Risen claw—and uncaring of the amount of blood spilled onto her previously pale white and yellow dress. She directed a terrified prisoner in helping her stitch the wound up as she healed it with her magic, the light from her hands a soft and warm glow in the midst of such gore. The soldier, filled with her warmth, soon stopped his feverish thrassing and fell into a deep sleep as Lissa and her impromptu assistant closed the wound up. She thanked him and immediately moved onto her next patient. The prisoner hesitated before following after her.

Henry fixated upon the magic lighting up Lissa's hands with undisguised fascination, even as he hovered over Robin. Something about that gaze made Chrom uncomfortable. "Uh, Henry?"

"Mm, yeah?" he replied, his eyes never leaving Lissa.

Chrom shifted closer to Robin and began pulling her boots off. "I'm going to need you to help me get these wet clothes off Robin."

Sully shot him a cross look. "I don't know if you've noticed, Captain," she said slowly, irritated, "but it's not like she's got a lot of privacy here for that."

Embarrassingly enough, it took a few moments for her words to sink into his rain-addled brain, until his face flushed with understanding and he scooted back from them as though burned. As an added insult, Henry began giggling. "I was—I was just—I mean—" Chrom sputtered pitifully. "I-I'll go outside now to check on the others and stand guard," he finally managed to stammer out, fleeing the fort red-faced and with Henry's cackling chasing after him.

The chill cooled the heat in his cheeks as he stepped out. Though the storm had yet to subside, the roaring fury from before had settled down into a gentler tune, with only the occasional roll of thunder and flash of lightning to disturb the rain's steady rhythm. His breath formed a cloud of warmth in the icy air.

What exactly happened back there? he wondered. First there was the border standoff, with reports of Robin having blasted bandits into ash. Then there was her admirable performance in Southtown, the level headedness she displayed as she directed their forces into battle, and the bravery shown against the brigands' vile leader. And now, he had borne witness to feats of magical strength he had never known possible. It was clear Robin and Henry had extensive combat experience—through training with others, self tutelage, or a more arcane source, Chrom did not know, and it only added to the mystery surrounding them.

Where did they come from? Why were they here? Why were brigands and monsters chasing after them? What happened to their memories? His questions burned fiercely within him with nothing to quench his thirst for answers. And from the little time they had spent travelling together with them, they were cagey and vague over what little they were able—or willing—to share.

What are those two hiding?

Chrom sighed. From the moment they had come across the pair, it seemed as though they were destined to run into trouble time and time again.

It was a troubling thought that struck a deep sense of unease in his heart.

"Sir!" a soldier called out to him from the roof, snapping Chrom out of his musing.

"What is it?"

"I see something moving in the treeline! And it's coming closer!"

Another Risen? No, it couldn't be! He was so certain of having seen their defeat, especially after Robin's final attack. He motioned to the men stationed around the perimeter draw their weapons and be on the ready for whatever it was that was out there.

"Ah, wait!" Chrom shouted. He noticed that the Falchion had not turned blue like it did when they were fighting, a trait that surprised as much as frightened him. "It's no Risen!"

"A deer then?"

"No. It looks like it walks on two legs," another one of his men pointed out.

A nervous youth bounced lightly on the balls of his feet, gripping his lance with trembling hands. "Well, whatever it is, we have to be ready for it."

The seconds crawled by agonisingly slowly, thick with tension, as they all assembled into battle formations and watched the rain-soaked treeline with dread. As the mysterious creature stepped out of the fog into the fort's perimeter, they all lowered their weapons with a markedly unanimous groan.

"Vaike." Chrom sighed and pushed his wet fringe out of his face. "Where on earth have you been?"

The (unreasonably, infuriatingly cheery for their current situation) blonde warrior smiled cheekily and waved enthusiastically as he casually strolled over to the company. Chrom noted the amount of leafy debris tangled up in his hair and cloak. "Yo! Sorry I'm late, everyone! Just had a bit of a mix-up back there with my axe, is all!"

"A bit of a mix-up?" Chrom sputtered. "Vaike, you missed the entire battle."

Vaike laughed uproariously. "Now see here, Cap!" He gave Chrom's shoulder a hearty slap that sent him staggering two paces back. "Ya can't have a fighter in a battle with no weapon to fight with! I was just lookin' for my trusty axe." He patted the enormous double-headed blade strapped securely to the back of his waist.

"What do you mean you were looking for it? How did you lose it in the first place?"

Vaike's face dropped sheepishly. "Ah well…ya see…" he lowered his voice and cupped his hand to his mouth, leaning closer to Chrom's ear. "Turns out it was…in its holster the whole time?"

"You're hopeless," Chrom groaned. "And here we were, worried sick that you might've gotten yourself lost in the forest, or worse, run into a Risen."

Vaike quirked a scruffy eyebrow. "Risen? The hell's a Risen?"

"It—" Chrom was not able to finish his sentence; a soldier emerged from the fort, murmuring his apologies, yet requesting his presence inside as Lissa had asked for him. "I'll explain soon."

The two ducked into the fort's entrance, blissfully warm now that the heat from all the human bodies packed within it had settled, and thanks to the fires that Henry had been able to feed to life. The white-haired boy was currently tending to a small one next to Lissa as she held one of the modest pots Frederick packed for them over it and used it to boil water. Lissa wiped the sweat off her brow with a grunt as she dunked a rag into the pot.

"Oh good, you're back!" she said. "And I see you brought Vaike with you."

"And I see these are the two newcomers you were tellin' us about," Vaike interjected.

"What's wrong?" Chrom immediately got to the point. "You wouldn't have called me back from guard duty unless something happened."

Lissa, biting her lip apprehensively, wrung out the grimy cloth. "It's Robin."

Henry scooted over to make room for Chrom as he kneeled before her, concern furrowing his brows. "What is it?"

"I don't really know…I'm almost done cleaning the few wounds I've seen, mostly around her legs and her stomach…but it's like that robe she's wearing's got an enchantment on it or something because I can't take it off to check the rest of her. It's like it…clamps down on her every time I touch it. But what's worrying me is that she's developed a low-grade fever and started twitching and mumbling to herself."

Chrom inspected their enigmatic new ally close. Her skin remained frosty to the touch in spite of the fine layer of sweat coating her shivering body and the fire burning close by. Robin's uncovered feet, along with her gloved hands, spasmed and fluttered fretfully every few moments. Her head tossed and turned and her ashen lips formed barely coherent sentences as Lissa set aside the pot of boiled water and dabbed at her neck with a wet rag. Robin looked as thought in the midst of a terrible nightmare, he thought with a pang. Chrom stretched out a tentative hand, hesitant, before attempting to hook a finger under the collar of the robe.

The cloth immediately trapped his finger under a tight seal, and it was only through a brief struggle that he was able to free it. The strangest sensation suddenly came over him…it felt reproachful, almost.

"So what do we do now? Want me to try a hex?" Henry piped up.

"I don't know," Lissa said. "At this point, I'm open to trying anything."

Sully's surprised yelp and Vaike scrambling back in shock were the only warnings Chrom had before a soothing wave washed over him. Astonished, Chrom saw that the teardrop-shaped hole in the Falchion's crossguard had begun shining a lustrous sky blue, bathing the room in light and piercing his eyes, forcing them shut with its brilliance. Everyone was silenced immediately by the sight.

The light dimmed into a softer, more tolerable level of brightness, and Chrom was able to open his eyes to inspect this astonishing new development. The crossguard cavity pulsed as though in tune with his heartbeat, and the script around it glowed as well—Chrom was far too mesmerised by the fact that his sword had seemingly come to life to bother remembering what the words said.

"Chrom…?" Lissa ventured timidly.

Draw the Falchion, an unknown voice spoke to him.

He started. Who was there with them? And where? Eerily enough, it seemed to have come from the recesses of his own mind, as no one else had given any indication of having heard anything, too focused on the sword as they were.

Hold it over her. It will help to dispel what ails her.

It was giving him advice? After fighting through Risen, enduring a night's worth of waiting for a rainstorm to end, still trying to puzzle over the mystery surrounding Henry and Robin, and now hearing voices in his head, Chrom was sure he had gone mad.

And yet…there was nothing about it that read as overtly malicious to him. Odd and suspiciously timed? Yes. But evil? He was unsure of what to make of it. Robin's shivering, feverish state was the most pressing issue at the moment. Strange disembodied voice or not, he wanted to ease her pain, and if following the instructions of some cryptic, unexplained presence was the way to do it, then he would take that chance.

Chrom drew his sword slowly, noting the metallic peal of the steel sliding out from the scabbard, and held it aloft, amazed at the blade's pale blue glow. Doubt gripped him for the longest second ever before he released it in a shaky breath and lowered the sword to hover parallel over Robin's body.

The Falchion shone white-hot, searing his eyes; he very nearly would have dropped it were it not for Henry steadying him with a hand on his shoulder. His entire body shook from the sheer newness of the sensation coursing through his veins: powerful weightlessness paired with an intense, simultaneous pressure, and then anodynic refreshment as the light dimmed and faded into nothingness.

Robin released a ragged, shuddering breath, and then settled down with a soft sigh.

Chrom watched as the colour was restored in her brown skin. The only emotion he could currently process was utter bewilderment as he raised his head to meet Lissa's confused and disturbed gaze.

He knew the Falchion was a special thing. He never knew just how much.

The sound of rain had finally ceased, giving way to the nighttime harmonies he had grown fond of during previous hunting expeditions: owls hooting from above; wood chirpers whirring away the second the temperature rose even slightly; even light steps crunching over loose debris that thrilled him, hoping that it was a doe passing by. The scent of wet earth and leaves cooled their surroundings and blanketed the forest in a crisp calm. Life always found a way even after a calamity.

Chrom wanted to enjoy that calm. He wanted to experience the same feelings as when he camped with Lissa and Frederick around a banked fire during the hunt, pointing out the constellations and shooting stars or giggling away naughtily over some joke of Lissa's until Frederick hushed them or they were all too happily exhausted to keep their eyes open.

He had not been able to rest the entire night, as he kept a disquieted vigil over his sleeping company. Lissa was dozing softly next to the bulk of Frederick's body, who of course had given her his blanket to use along with hers when she had become too tired to protest over his overbearing insistence. The prisoners slept in an uneasy huddle at the back of the fort, their fitful stirrings most likely nightmares produced by the Risen attack; the soldiers rotated their activities between sleep, guard duty, and clearing fallen branches and logs to ease their return to Ylisstol. Vaike and Sully had slept back to back, but the blonde warrior's intense snoring had awoken and annoyed Sully so many times she had kicked him awake and stormed off to join the soldiers outside in an annoyed huff. Vaike had merely scratched his head and resumed his sleeping in response before. She returned later, though.

The mysterious duo—and the reasons for his sleeplessness—lay curled up in a ball around each other, clinging tightly in such a manner that Chrom thought their knuckles would have turned as white as Henry's hair. The boy supported his broken arm between their bodies on the blanket Chrom offered to him, and though Robin had not woken up since fainting in the rain, her hands had gone around Henry's neck to cradle his head the second she felt his touch.

Henry had been frustratingly cagey and evasive when anything even remotely hinting at a question was brought up. Not anything, from Lissa's patient wheedling to Frederick's straightforwardness, Vaike's boorishness and Sully's aggressiveness and even his own persuasiveness could wrest anything from Henry's lips other than his original story.

Far be it from Chrom to accuse anyone of being a liar to their faces unless the lie was blatant enough or he lost his composure. He was certain that the majority of their story (memory loss and an inexplicable need to travel to Regna Ferox) was true. And yet…

Chrom leaned back into the wall with a sigh. Since bringing the two into their fold from Southtown, running into constant danger had become a common theme. Even the way they were found was due to violent circumstances…but stranger still was the immediate reaction his brand and the Falchion had to Robin. The skin-deep pulse, the feeling of his blood humming in his veins, he had grown used to it around his sisters. Robin provoked a similar sensation, but there was something…different about it that he could not pinpoint. Adding to his questions was the memory of the voice echoing in his head, teaching him of an innate power of the Falchion's and how it told him to use the sword to heal her.

Robin had recovered well from her fever, and, despite Lissa not being able to dissuade Henry from keeping Robin's right glove on and the curious reaction the robe she wore had to the touch of strangers, she slept well and with no sign of infection or fever so far.

She was strong. Intelligent. Reserved, yet not unwelcoming to their presence. She presented the biggest mystery of the two by far and Chrom burned inside with unsaid questions.

What are you hiding? And why? he thought as he watched Robin. Why won't you let us help you?

Why don't you trust us?

"Chrom?"

He blinked slowly and refocused. Robin had finally awakened: her eyes were still bleary with sleep, and her voice rough and scratchy from all the screaming in battle, but nonetheless, she was awake. Chrom felt his worries slip away as he carefully padded his way to her, avoiding the sleeping bodies around them. He kneeled by her side.

"Did we win?" she asked.

"Yes." He removed his glove and held his palm tentatively over her head before lowering it to check for signs of her fever returning. "How are you feeling?"

"Like a bull ran into me from behind."

They shared a chuckle before falling into a companionable silence. Robin grimaced and groaned as she shifted in place, now uncomfortable with having stayed prone for so long, and Chrom eased his hand under her shoulders to help her sit up.

"Are we in the fort?"

"Yes. We tried to clear most of the felled trees around us, but we're going to pick it up again once it's light out. From there we're to proceed to Ylisstol."

"Ylisstol, huh?" The barest amount of illumination from the banked fire revealed a wry twist of her mouth. "I've never been there before."

Chrom briefly flashed back to his previous worries—how much of what she was saying was true or not, why they were hiding things from them—and quickly shook them off. Now was not the time. "You'll love it there. We're in the middle of preparing a big festival, and it's so beautiful now. There will be pennants, and stalls, and fresh flowers being planted, and everyone will be attending. It's the first one we've had in years, really."

Her response was a noncommittal hum. They fell into silence once more and sat together listening to the sounds of the night. When she spoke again, it was with a deep sense of melancholy.

"I owe you a debt, you know," she whispered.

"Wha—no you don't. What on earth gave you that idea?"

She adjusted her head to look up at him; he had the vaguest notion that if he could see her face, she would most likely be raising a brow at him. "You stopped that Risen from attacking me. You saved my life, so now, I owe it to you."

Chrom looked around surreptitiously, not wanting anyone to have suddenly woken up and started eavesdropping on their conversation. However effectively her robe muffled her voice (and constantly forced him to lean closer to catch any of her words), he felt uncomfortable discussing such personal things surrounded by their sleeping comrades.

"Why don't we take this elsewhere?" he murmured. "I think some fresh air would do us some good."

"Sounds fine to me."

Taking great care not to jostle Robin, he grasped her hand, looped her arm around his neck, and gingerly hoisted themselves up with a muted grunt. The pair spent a far greater amount of time wending and weaving their way around sleeping bodies than he would have liked, but they made it out in the end with naught but a single interrupted snore when Robin accidently touched a soldier's face with her bare toes. They giggled in nervous solidarity as they stepped out into the forest.

Thankfully, the men stationed outside on the current rotation of guard kept their eyes forward and their attention focused on watching the perimeter, making Chrom feel much more at ease. He chose a sturdy log for them and helped ease Robin down to her seat, keeping his arm around her as he stepped over the log to join her.

Chrom always thought that the night sky was especially beautiful after a hard, cleansing rain. The stars shimmered and shone with their white, untouchable beauty from thousands of miles away. Chrom wondered if the priests were right, and that the stars were in reality the souls chosen by Naga to reside with her in her heavenly abode, watching mortal souls from above for all eternity. The tale never did sit right with him—the stars seemed far too cold, too impersonal and amorphous to take interest in the lives of puny human beings. That, and he hated how they always seemed to bring up memories of after his father's death, and the fervent insistence of his supporters that he be officially canonised as a martyr and a saint.

He could never hate the stars in spite of his misgivings. It was not their fault in the first place. And he always did appreciate their icy, breathtaking elegance against the backdrop of their infinite, pitch-black mantle.

Chrom wondered if Robin thought so too.

"You don't owe me anything," he said, keeping his eyes on the sky. He failed to make out a few constellations—astronomy was one of his weakest subjects growing up. "I saved you because you needed rescuing, because you were in danger. And that's all there is to it. Not because I want you to feel some sense of…obligation towards me."

Robin hummed sleepily in reply. "Where I come from," her words were soft, even with the robe dampening them, "saving someone means that you now hold that person's life in your hands."

He snorted. "Sorry, but that sounds like nonsense. I bet it's an easily abused system, too."

"Perhaps," was her cryptic response. "But you certainly don't look like the type to do that. You're far too good."

Robin's praise coloured Chrom's cheeks in a faint glow. "Flatterer," he mumbled and bumped her shoulder playfully.

It was the first time he heard her laugh; it was a charming sound that brought a smile to his lips, pleasantly surprised that he was able to bring out that kind of reaction from such a mysterious character. "Well, aren't you?"

He fell silent. A lazy gust of wind rustled the boughs of the trees high above them, shaking a few leaves loose and sending them tumbling down leisurely. The cold air felt good in his lungs, sharp and refreshing, yet he still found it difficult to swallow against the sudden lump in his throat.

"I like to think that I'm a good person." Chrom hated how weak and uncertain he sounded to his ears. "But that's my own personal judgement. I have to be honest and admit that I'm a little afraid that what might seem right to me could be a catastrophe to others. Or that I'm simply deluding myself and I'm actually a horrible megalomaniac destined to wreak havoc upon the earth and someone will come and cut me down eventually." He suppressed a cold shiver that threatened to run down his spine, and the memories that came after hardened the lump.

Chrom heard her exhale, a low, pensive sound that was nearly lost to the wind. He felt her move against him and he was grateful for her human warmth to ward off the chill of his unhappy thoughts.

Wait. Why am I telling her this? We barely know each other. She doesn't need to be loaded down with with my worries. And even so, why does she need to know this? I'm not expecting her to tell me something about her life in exchange.

Then again…it could be useful considering how little we know so far.

"Destiny is a funny thing," Robin mused. "People put so much stock into it yet we fear and loathe it all the same."

Chrom shrugged. "That's life, I suppose. But I've never wanted to believe in something as grand and far-reaching as destiny, not really."

"And why's that?"

He struggled to find the words. Strange how deeply he felt over this, how much he toiled over his feelings on the subject and how much sleep he had lost to them, but when the time came to articulate his thoughts, the lump seemed to press against his tongue and render his efforts almost futile. "It seems cruel of the gods to preordain suffering in our life," he finally managed.

"Gods are cruel because holding power over others corrupts," Robin replied, bitter. "There's no reason to be kind to your playthings and tools."

He shifted in an attempt to peer into her face, genuinely surprised over the sentiment, and his curiosity was piqued again; what had happened to her to create such an attitude? "Well…you're not wrong," he ventured carefully. "But what I mean to add to that is that life seems much too, well, vast—" he threw his arm out and gestured to the forest, "—for something like destiny to be of importance. That all we live for is to be in pain. You get what I'm saying?"

"No?" Robin said.

Her tone made him laugh. "I mean, the gods gave their creations free will, right? What's the point of destiny, then, if we're also meant to do things according to our own free will? What's the point of free will if some stuffy old priest says we're meant to suffer?"

Robin pulled back to look up at him—he wished that the shadows shrouding her face could dissipate and satisfy his burning curiosity, that the hood could come off and reveal at least a trace of a human face that he could read. He settled for watching her clasp her hands and twiddle her fingers in a nervous rhythm as she processed his reasoning. She seemed, for a lack of a better term, stunned.

"From what little I can remember…I was told that humans are stupid, sinful, weak. That we need not only a strong hand to guide us to avoid causing any disasters, but that we need to be punished for being born…dirty."

"Dirty?"

"We're creatures born of mud and filth. We live only to eat, fornicate, and die in the end. We wage wars, spread diseases, and kill whatever we come into contact with. That we deserve—"

Chrom seized her hand and grasped it firmly in his own, vaguely noting the size difference, and the arm he already had around her pulled her in tighter. "I'm going to have to stop you right there."

"Chrom—?"

"I don't know where you've heard that," he continued, vehement, "but it's wrong you hear? All wrong."

She struggled against his hold and he released her, shocked at her reaction.

What was Robin afraid of?

"Look." Chrom chose his words carefully and deliberately. "We may not know each other very well just yet, but in the little time we've been together, I'm sure I can say with all certainty that you're not a person who deserves punishment for being born. None of us are, in fact." He swallowed, finally ridding himself of the lump, feeling anger rise to his face and helping to push words out. "And whoever told you that is a liar. A liar with something to gain over feeding you nonsense and making you feel afraid simply for existing. Whoever that person is, they're the evil one, you understand?"

"You don't know me," Robin snapped, but there was no real bite to it: only a deep sadness. "You don't know if I've done awful things and I deserve to be told all that."

"Does a bad person risk their life constantly to help strangers?"

"A bad person can put on as many masks as they need and want to. A priest can call himself holy while still preaching for the murder of innocents. A king can build great bridges and hospitals and poorhouses and do all that with the blood and sweat of slaves. Who's to say that my actions in the past won't guarantee I do something terrible in the future?"

Her logic, unfortunately, hit much too close to home for Chrom's comfort…but there was also something very personal about the way that Robin spoke that made him think that she was referencing something she did remember, or at least something too stark and vivid in her mind to not be able to forget. He wanted to allow his curiosity to probe further, but his rational side warned him that it was most likely something that caused her great pain and torment.

Please let us help you, Robin.

Chrom reached out to her slowly, cautiously, as though approaching an injured swan—one wrong move and he feared pushing her away, or even being on the receiving end of her lashing out. He wanted to take no risks. He held his hand out, pleading for hers, and relaxed when she acquiesced. Robin stiffened when he followed through by pulling her in for a tight embrace, clearly shocked, but then softened after a few tense moments.

Emmeryn often did the same for him when he used to suffer from his bouts of anger. Sometimes it felt like the only way he could find an outlet for the rage and heartache that ate at him, deep inside…but Emmeryn and Lissa's love and support, while certainly not a cure-all, often felt like it. It felt so soothing to know that he had them by his side and ready to comfort him when he hurt, and he reckoned that, for now at least, Robin would do good with someone to fill in that same position for her.

"Do you see yourself doing something terrible? In the future?"

"Gods, I hope not." Her voice was small and muffled in his arms.

He shook his head. "You know that's not what I meant: do you see yourself consciously doing something that would cause harm? Do you think that you would deliberately seek out the pain and suffering of others? Do you want that future for yourself?"

"…No."

Chrom pulled back with what he hoped was a brilliant smile. He vaguely took note of the darkness receding with the sun's encroaching light, banishing the night to the confines of the past. It felt very fitting for how their conversation had progressed. "See? I think that makes you a good person—because you care about the impact of your actions on others. That you care about not causing harm." A warm, gratified zing raced through his skin when, finally, the barest hint of a wobbly smile was spied through the shadows of her hood. "'Destiny' is hogwash. Only you can decide how your future plays out."

They sat together in satisfied, reticent silence as dawn finally rose and heralded the start of a new day.

Clearing the area of burnt logs and other debris took up a good part of the morning, with breakfast (pine needle tea and a few charred rabbits found in the undergrowth) served just as the sun was beginning its ascent higher into the sky. Robin was quiet and kept to herself, more so than usual, which puzzled even Henry. The two sat closely together to eat and survey the goings on around camp. Now that a passage had been successfully opened up, the first order of business was to leave immediately and head back to Ylisstol. Frederick, naturally, had placed himself in full charge of the preparations: barking orders left and right, fretting over their dwindling supplies, and breathing down the necks of whatever unfortunate souls dared to cinch a saddle even an inch off his desired length.

They set off the moment the last horse was ready, spurring them into a quick canter with those on foot—the prisoners and the rest of the soldiers—doing their best to keep up.

Everyone was eager to leave the forest as soon as possible.

Chrom did his best to keep the journey pleasant, if at least to dilute the horrors of the previous night; Lissa and him regaled the mysterious duo with wondrous tales of Ylisstol's magic and grandeur, of the upcoming pageantry and celebrations, in the hopes of raising their spirits. To his relief, the soldiers joined the conversation and shared their excitement over the festivities. Even the prisoners, after spending most of the march in silence, ventured a few questions before a few shared stories of how they celebrated: most were from the southwestern coasts of Ferox and detailed the songs sung after the daily catch was hauled in, while a few from the border between Plegia and Ylisse discussed harvest parties. The lone man from Chon'sin remained studiously silent, but Chrom guessed that it was due to an inability to speak in the continent's common tongue.

He told them of Emmeryn, too, uncaring when Vaike pointed out he was gushing—he had every right to fawn over such a wonderful sister.

The atmosphere turned pleasant as the day went by. The sun shone, yet the trees that remained after the fire were unscathed enough to shelter them from the worst of the heat. Sounds from assorted wildlife confirmed that the damage had thankfully not spread as much as he feared, and he thanked the timely intervention of the rangers who were on patrol with Vaike and Sully to stop the spread of the flames…along with the rain from Robin's spell.

Speaking of his fellow Shepherds, however, made Chrom want to groan aloud in annoyance. While he was grateful that Vaike's natural garrulity and curiosity made him all too eager to meet the newest additions to the group, what started off as friendliness now bordered on harassment. Henry had an immediate grasp on Vaike's attitude and was able to skillfully deflect his attentions through a combination of reciprocity and playful obfuscation. Robin, on the other hand, was not as attuned to Vaike's quirks—due to still being exhausted over the night's events or simply because she was overwhelmed by him, Chrom could not tell—but it came to the point where Lissa had to physically intervene when Vaike reached for Robin's hood to pull it off after pestering her incessantly over it.

Sully stood firmly on the other end of the spectrum: whereas Vaike hovered like an irksome gnat, she preferred aggressive avoidance by riding at the front. She answered in monosyllables, grunts, or nettled mutters when Lissa, Vaike, and Frederick spoke; towards Chrom, Robin, and Henry, however, she barely even deigned to breathe in their direction. She had been irritable since the battle against the Risen, and her annoyance seemed to have increased upon emerging from the fort at dawn looking for Chrom.

As the sun began setting, the party gratefully settled down to rest and set up camp. Robin, citing riding weariness, announced her decision to turn in early, with Henry following soon after. Chrom would sneak intermittent glances at the duo, curled up around their dog by the banked fire, and could only worry.

"What's gotten into you two?" he found himself hissing lowly at Sully and Vaike over their supper of spit-roasted rabbit. Even mopping up the gravy with a stale biscuit (one of his favourite things to do at mealtimes) failed to raise his spirits as he scolded his friends across their own little fire.

"Aw, Cap." Vaike threw his hand up dismissively and spoke around his mouthful of meat. "You're actin' like I kicked a puppy or somethin'. All I did was be my usual friendly self! There anything wrong with that?"

"Being your 'usual friendly self,'" Chrom emphasised pointedly, "shouldn't involve trying to pull someone's clothes off and being an invasive nuisance."

"Sorry, Vaike, but I have to agree with Chrom on this." Lissa had stuffed her face and spoke with a completely full mouth—Frederick, of course, loomed closely in the background, ready to swoop in to wipe her face and catch any stray bits of food before they could even have the chance to stain his lieges' clothing. "Sometimes you have to learn to buzz off."

Sully snorted. She had been brooding over her own food, picking at it more than she actually ate, and staring moodily into the fire rather than join the conversation.

"And you," Chrom turned to her, "you've been nothing but plain rude. Avoiding us and not wanting to talk—did we do something wrong? Was it something I said?"

"No," she muttered.

"Then what is it?"

Sully threw her rabbit-stick away with a loud clatter—Chrom glanced back to see if it disturbed Robin and Henry, but the pair did not so much as stir—and crossed her leg and arms, scowling fiercely into the fire. "I don't like pussyfooting around, so I'll just cut the crap and get straight to the point: I don't like the feel of 'em."

"Sully—"

"You pick up a couple of strangers from the roadside and you're now best chums all of a sudden?" Sully's eyes met his, surprising him with the strength of the emotion behind them. "Even after some bullshit story about being amnesiacs?"

"Sully—"

"I ain't done," she cut him off tersely. "This reeks, Chrom. It seems too damn convenient that you find some—some 'runaways' or whatever when you're out right before the festival. Not only that, but those two definitely know more than they're letting in on. They were armed when you found 'em, they know more than a thing or two in a fight, and that girl especially…" Sully shot a distrustful look at Robin's sleeping form. "She's pretty dangerous."

Chrom scoffed and set down his gravy stained tin. "You say this as though you're expecting them to murder us in our sleep or something of the sort. I already had enough of this with Frederick—"

"Well, this time, I agree with Frederick," Sully interrupted once more.

"Agreeing with Frederick? Now that's something I didn't expect to hear from you of all people."

"Think about it. You find these two and they say they don't know where they're from or they don't wanna, or even elaborate on their vague as hell plans to go to Ferox…why? And how convenient is it that we run into those…those things, and she not only knows how to kill 'em, but she does that freaky thing with her eyes and squares off against the boss and wins? What was that magic, even? Miriel's the smartest person I know and I don't think even she can do that! Or what about that eye in the sky?"

He hated admitting how sound her logic was. How strange, how inexplicable, even, were the circumstances surrounding the pair, not to mention all the bizarre events that followed soon after. Pursued by bandits. Fighting off those so-called Risen. The Falchion healing Robin in the storm's midst.

He did not want to tell them that the latter was the result of a strange voice in his head, nor was he too keen on revealing his Brand's resonance with Robin.

Chrom sighed heavily and looked up to the stars. "I know that all sounds pretty bad. And I don't disagree with you. But they've been good to us so far. They've fought alongside us. They helped save the people of Southtown, and now they helped us defeat the Risen. And…I have a good hunch about them."

"Chrom. You're telling me you just wanna ignore all that based on a hunch?" Sully raised her eyebrow.

"I don't know how else to explain it, alright? All I can really say is that…that I have a good feeling about them."

Sully heaved herself up from her seat on the tree stump with a loud sigh. Her gaze was tired and the line of her lips grim. It was a look Chrom saw rarely, and, to be honest with himself, it was a worrisome sight to behold.

"You're a good man, Chrom," she said after a tense few moments. "And we all think it's pretty admirable of you to always want to see the best in others. But sometimes…it doesn't work out, you know? You have to remember that 'good feelings' can be misleading. And with hair like that—" she jerked her chin roughly in Henry's direction "—I think I speak for everyone when I say I don't exactly share your sentiments."

Sully left the campfire for her sleeping roll immediately after, and Vaike followed shortly; Chrom could tell she was still awake, sulking and ignoring Vaike's attempts at rousing her. Lissa was the next to go, leaving Chrom and Frederick alone with the last of the fire's embers, with Frederick taking it upon himself to feed the fire some more kindling before banking the ashes over it to preserve it for the morning. Chrom watched him quietly as he removed his breastplate and gauntlets—he kept his boots and greaves on.

"You already know my thoughts on the matter, milord," Frederick said before retiring for bed, a rarity for a man as dedicated as him. "And I urge you to report all this to her Grace as soon as we step foot in Ylisstol."

Believe me. I already will.

They set off as soon as dawn approached. Robin stayed pensive and quiet throughout, and though her replies were polite enough whenever Lissa and Chrom and Henry engaged her, there was a detachment to her that signalled a heavy weight on her mind. Chrom did not blame her for it.

Thankfully, they approached the edge of the forest soon after the late morning came, the treeline stopping to reveal small farms and the town of Palenorda nestled up against Ylisstol's mighty walls. The curious name was a combination of the capital's former designation as Pales, after the shepherd god and the city's patron deity after Naga, and Norda, the market town infamous for its role as a hub for the slave trade after Pales fell in the War of Shadows. The loud calls of merchants advertising their wares and the scent of smoke from the kilns grew stronger as the procession approached the town. Robin pulled her hood tighter over her face and slumped in the saddle as she rode with Frederick. Chrom motioned for Lissa to do the same for Henry and she threw her blanket over him haphazardly—the boy took it in stride and wrapped himself snugly until only his smiling face was visible, and Lissa laughed.

"Ho there, milord!" A woman's voice caught Chrom's attention. It was Aldeth Reeve, captain of the border guards tasked with protecting Ylisstol's perimeter. She rode to them from the castle gates after the drawbridge was lowered over the massive moat separating the city from the town, with her subordinates alert, yet thankfully not suspicious over the two strangers at their doorstep. "We saw the fire all the way from here—I was just about to send a rescue party after your Shepherds left, but I'm glad to see that's no longer needed."

Chrom smiled appreciatively. "We thank you for your concern, Captain Reeve. We've a few injured in our party, but we're all still alive and well, thank the gods."

"I'll say! We're lucky that rain came along, or else I'm afraid we would've been burnt to a crisp! Amazing what nature can do, don't you think?"

"…Yes." His smiled turned tight. "I'd rather not dawdle for too long though. We got caught in the middle of a border skirmish that spilled over to Southtown, and we're bringing the bandits we caught there to be questioned and detained."

The prisoners, so subdued throughout the journey, now looked defeated and utterly spent; though they were arguably treated well, being brought into foreign territory in chains, and thus broadcasting their status as criminals, had to be not only humiliating but demoralising as well. In spite of his rage at Southtown, Chrom's heart was moved by a stirring of pity.

Aldeth looked over the raggedy collection of men with a critical eye. "And I suppose they did that, too?" She motioned to the soldier with a newly missing hand.

"No. That…that will be explained, but it'll have to wait until Emmeryn hears it first, I'm afraid."

"I see." The severity of the situation having dawned on her, Aldeth shouted for her deputies, sisters who rode astride a pair of stocky duns and wielded impressive looking halberds. Orders were relayed, and soon they too called for the next in the chain of command, and a decent amount of guards corps were deployed to bring the prisoners into Ylisstol safely through a secret passage east of the city.

"Why aren't we taking them?" Henry asked with his usual curiosity.

"Because they need to be transported to the dungeons, and we need to go somewhere else," Lissa answered.

"Awww, but dungeons are so much fun! They have bones, and dead people, and torture devices, and a lot of times you can find really neat hexed and cursed items and creatures in them!"

Lissa blanched and quietly mouthed 'what the heck?!' to her brother. All Chrom could do was shrug; he had no idea where on earth Henry had visited to form such a morbid and dark view of dungeons, which was not to say that dungeons like that were nonexistent, but still.

As the prisoners were escorted out of sight, Aldeth whistled to the gatekeepers watching from the twin towers built into the wall and on either side of the drawbridge. The sound of ancient chains groaning to life grated terribly on the ears as the colossal steel gates opened to allow them entry to the capital. Thanking her, Chrom waved to his companions and nudged Stormchaser into a leisurely walk into the city.

Ylisstol looked even more beautiful now that they had spent some time away and the preparations for the festival progressed: rows upon rows of irises, the state flower, had been planted along the streets and in charming little window boxes in the shops and houses. The maypoles, finally painted, were installed for the upcoming dancing; matrons wove intricate ropes of ribbons for them with their children on their doorsteps. Framework for booths were being hammered and nailed into place in the city square and gay pennants were being strung across rooftops and walls. There was so much colour, so much excitement and joy and magic in the air that Chrom could not help but breathe in deeply to try and take it in all at once.

He was so proud to see that Robin and Henry thought so too. Their expressions were of pure awe as they craned their necks and marvelled over the sights the city had to offer. He took it upon himself to point out his favourite parts of the city and other sites of interest: the bakeries, the butcheries, the public library, the guild headquarters, the cathedral, the shops…

"So this is Ylisstol, capital of Ylisse...I've never seen so many people!" Robin breathed.

"It appears the capital was spared the chaos we encountered, thank the gods. I see no evidence of the great quake. It must've been limited to the forest," Frederick said.

"Well, that's a relief!" Lissa chimed in.

The people immediately rallied round their horses and clamoured for their attention, calling out to them in the realisation that they had now returned from beyond the city. Unfortunately, now that their presence had attracted the attention of the citizenry, their stares and pointing were most definitely not of the welcoming variety where Henry and Robin were concerned. There was anxious muttering and whispering over the ominous pattern on Robin's robe. A few wisps of Henry's hair began to peek out from under the cover of Lissa's blanket, and Chrom feared that they would soon notice his hair was white instead of a towheaded blonde.

"Excuse us! We need to get to the castle soon. I'm sorry if we're causing any delays in the middle of the street like this." He flashed a brilliant grin at the throng.

His request was met with beaming smiles. "Oh, of course—"

"Forgive us, Your Highness—"

"We're all so glad to see you back—!"

"Thank you. We're all very happy to see you all as well." He clicked his tongue and raised the reins so Stormchaser would take one of the smaller passages behind the main street, away from the prying eyes of the public. "And we'll be sure to come soon to see how the preparations are shaping up!"

The urban commotion became muted as they wended their way through narrow back alleys on the way to the castle. The lake could be seen beyond the walls now that they were proceeding higher and higher up the steep hill that the city had been built on, hoofbeats clacking in a pleasant, rhythmic beat against the cobblestones. The occasional laundress would stick her head out to check that her items were drying well on the clothesline, or a cat perched on a windowsill would watch as a dog pawed and barked fruitlessly at the air in an attempt to get them to play together, but for the most part, they were thankfully alone.

Chrom turned to see how the others were doing: Henry was talking quietly to Lissa and bounced his dog between them and made her wave her paw to the strays they saw. The soldiers kept to their usual disciplined taciturnity while Sully and Vaike were engaged in a hushed, but evidently heated discussion all the way at the back. Robin, however, was of the greatest concern to Chrom at the moment. As she rode with Frederick, who always made it a point to ride as closely to his charges as possible, he could spy her chewing the nail of her thumb from under her hood.

He pulled Stormchaser closer to Frederick's enormous steed in order to safely lean closer to them without toppling off. "Something the matter?"

Robin started in the saddle and immediately withdrew her thumb, embarrassed. "I—I—no. Everything's fine."

"Doesn't sound like you mean it. What's wrong, Robin?"

She swallowed and looked down into her lap, where her gloved hands gripped tightly at her trousers and their leather made a sharp, creaking noise. "…It's just…what was all that before? About the people…they called you 'Your Highness.'"

Chrom balked. It was not a subject he had hoped to touch soon. "Well…I—"

Loud trumpeting blasts from the town square jerked their heads up in search of the source of the sudden commotion. They had an excellent view all the way up from their vantage point, and thus could see the enormous crowds queueing around a small procession of women snaking their way through the people. A woman garbed in familiar shades of pale yellows and greens caught Chrom's eye.

"Oh! That must be the Exalt on her daily outing!" the soldiers exclaimed, their usual stoicity gone.

Robin kept her gaze trained on the tiny green figure. "The Exalt is your ruler, yes? Is it safe for her to walk among commoners like this?"

"The Exalt is a symbol of peace—Ylisse's most prized quality." Frederick began reciting in a practiced and presumptuous intonation. "Long ago, at the dawn of our age, the fell dragon tried to destroy the world. But the first Exalt joined forces with the divine dragon and laid the beast low. Exalt Emmeryn reminds us all of the peace we fought for then."

"With Plegia poking at our borders, the people need her. She's a calming presence, when some might otherwise call for war," Chrom added.

There was something…melancholic about the way Robin watched the joyous scene on the streets below. Something about her slumped form spoke of a very deep heartache and desolation as she observed the Exalt wave to the people, shake their hands, answer their questions, and kiss the babies handed to her for her blessing. Something that confused Chrom's own heart in a way he could not quite place.

Robin twisted back to her proper seat in the saddle with sigh. "Then the Ylissean people are indeed lucky to have her." Her voice was heavy with dejection.

Chrom and Frederick exchanged worried looks, but said nothing and snapped the reins for the horses to keep on moving.

Just as soon as they were rounding the corner and almost up to the bridge connecting the castle to the city, Lissa, who had been engaged in a battle of giggles with Henry, burst open with a loud exclamation: "She's also the best big sister anyone could ask for!"

Robin banged her head on Frederick's breastplate with a loud clang as she whipped around in place to stare at the young woman, her mouth agog in surprise. "You said your sister's name is Emmeryn…wait, what? She's your...but wouldn't that make you and Chrom…" Her head snapped back and forth between them, disbelieving.

"The prince and princess of the realm, yes," Frederick said drily. "You remember Chrom's name and not this?"

"You said you were 'shepherds!'"

"And so we are...in a manner of speaking. We just have a LOT of sheep." Chrom scratched the nape of his neck sheepishly.

Robin, aghast, blubbered and stammered almost incoherently. "C-Chrom...I mean, Prince Chrom! Sire!" She swung herself out of Frederick's saddle and onto the street, bowing rigidly at the waist in a show of begging for his mercy. "Forgive my dreadful manners! I can't believe I was so presumptuous as to ride with you like that—I-I'll just walk from here on out!" She began speeding away hastily in the wrong direction.

"Ah, wait!" Chrom kicked his heels into Stormchaser's belly and the horse cantered quickly to block Robin before she could leave their sight.

"Your Highness—"

"You know, I didn't want to share this right away because I was afraid of intimidating you." Chrom sighed. "This is precisely the thing that I wanted to avoid."

"I shouldn't have treated you so casually! I knew you're someone important given everyone's insistence on 'milord' and 'milady,' but I didn't know just how much! I-I apologise. I shouldn't have taken so many liberties with you and L-your sister."

He climbed out of the saddle to stand as levelly as he could with her. Hard as it was to look into her eyes, with her hood keeping her face in perpetual shadow and whatnot, he hoped that she could at least comprehend the depth of his gesture. "No. I should be the one apologising. I shouldn't have kept this a secret from you. I just…I just wanted you to treat me as normally as possible. I don't want you to feel indebted to me or anything of the sort."

She snorted a very unladylike snort. "If I wasn't before, then I have good reason to now."

"Oh, please don't. We've fought together. I wouldn't want a comrade-in-arms to feel like they should keep their distance from me over some silly rank and title."

"Your 'silly rank and title,'" Robin reminded, "means you have privileges and a status that I don't."

"I—so? That doesn't mean that we should be kept apart over it. I…I want you to feel as comfortable around me as any other Shepherd would, because, in the end, we're all human. We've seen each other bleed. And if not for that, then at least because I'm asking you as a friend." Chrom stretched his hand out to her in an entreaty to accept it.

The sounds of the procession grew louder over the brief wind that cooled them. Stormchaser stamped at the cobblestones impatiently as Chrom waited for Robin's response; he feared that she would reject him.

But to his delight, she accepted the gesture and closed her hand over his shyly. "…Alright."

"And just Chrom is fine. I've never been much for formalities."

He caught the barest hint of a smile under her hood.

He beamed at her. Without any further delay, Chrom heaved her up and sat her firmly on his horse's saddle and clambered up right after. He snapped the reins briskly and directed the party to stay on their designated route. "It looks like Emm is returning to the castle. If we keep to our pace, we should arrive before she does along with all the crowds. Would you two like to meet her?" he called back to Henry as well.

Lissa pulled her mare in close to ride at her brother's side, eagerly anticipating Henry's response. The boy was clearly in agreement and reached out to tug Robin's sleeve restlessly. "C'mon Robby! Say yes! It's not everyday that we get to meet a real life queen!"

"Exalt," Frederick corrected snappishly.

"It doesn't have to be right now if you don't want to," Chrom said gently.

"No, I think it's better that we not delay it," was Robin's answer. "And besides: considering all that's happened, and since we are strangers to this realm, I think she would want to question us over a thing or two."

The ride continued in an amiable silence, with only the briefest of glances behind them to verify that Emmeryn's parade was still a ways behind them. Chrom felt the familiar thrill of homecoming as the slate blue roofing of the gatehouse beyond the bridge came into view.

"The prince and princess...that explains why Frederick tolerates all the teasing, eh?" Robin spoke with a dash of wryness.

Frederick sighed as though he was some 20 years older. "Indeed. Oh, the sacrifices I make for the good of the realm…"

Henry and Lissa's burst of laughter was as sunny as the sky above them, and Chrom felt very optimistic about their future prospects. He had a good feeling that they would fit in just right with them all here in Ylisstol.

I love writing Chrom POV chapters. He's such a delight: sunny and warm, maybe kinda dumb sometimes, but ultimately a kind guy who wants the best for his loved ones. Next chapter is going back to Robin's POV, and delving more into life in Ylisstol Castle and with the Shepherds. But what's this? They won't have so much time to settle down-there are reports of trouble afoot!

(Featuring the introduction of a certain dancer and our favourite potato peeler ;p)