A great thank you to reviewers, you make it easier to get out of bed in the morning.
But I have to make a confession to Greymane. I WISH editing these chapters were as easy as clapping my hands, but sadly they take a few weeks longer than that. My work schedule is irregular and I don't always have access to internet, so a regular update schedule is quite impossible for me.
THAT said, I do have a 100-percent completion rate with my stories. I've never started something I didn't finish, and I don't intend for my current project to break that record. It will be completed, reviewed or not, though given the amount of time any writer puts into their work, leaving a note saying you enjoyed it (if you did) is pretty quick, assuredly painless, and really does make our day.
Thanks again guys!
Morning had broken. The haze floating over the bay accompanied by the faint scent of smoke was the only indication of what transpired last night. From the Shepherd's base camp up the cliffs, the port looked quiet and docile. From the port, the base camp looked like an anthill.
The medica tent was overflowing and soldiers organized patrols, Frederick barking orders as Lissa called for more bandages. A few tents down, the pair of legs protruding from an entry flap stirred.
Vaike sat up, facing the wall of his tent in confusion. He pushed against it and received a blast of sunlight that made him groan and roll over where he lay motionless, until he recognized the surrounding sounds as not the regular bustle.
He mumbled something incoherent. When no one answered he pushed himself off the ground, stumbling out of his tent and almost headlong into Sully.
She growled something angry. He squinted at her.
"Sleep well?" she repeated slowly, hoisting the box of bandages higher on her hip.
He was almost positive 'Yes' and 'No' were equally wrong answers and changed subjects.
"Wha happened?"
"Walhart happened," she answered over her shoulder, turning to leave.
He clumsily made after her, then pushed himself against a tent as a pegasus landed in the clearing. Cordelia disembarked, rushing into the already crowded command tent.
"Walhart like… The dude?"
"His scouts, moron..." Sully quieted as Frederick quickly limped out, followed by Cordelia.
Whatever news she'd delivered didn't look good.
Sully turned to Vaike, muttering, "Word around camp is the hoplites were all around the city. We got lucky we only ran into two units at once, the others have gone underground or out into the wilderness which has Command twisting their panties. Now Chrom's missing and Frederick's making life hell until we find him."
She watched the officers speak for another moment before Lissa called out to her. Vaike cleared his throat and departed, deciding it'd be best to stay out of Frederick's sight for a while as Cordelia finished delivering her report.
"At least a dozen tracks, two people dragged between."
"I should have been there." Frederick grit his teeth.
"You were injured. They would have killed you and taken them anyway. Sir," she added as he glared at her, and cleared her throat. "Tracks led to the water and where they likely had a skiff on standby. I have scouts searching the coast now. We'll find them."
"Tell me know when you do," he dismissed her and limped further into camp with no clear direction, scowling into space as his thoughts directed inward. People avoided his gaze like he was a gorgon, but he was too focused on brooding to notice.
Even if Cordelia was right, death was preferable to failing his duty to protect the prince. He didn't deserve his position as bodyguard. Dedication wasn't enough to have the honor of guarding the royal family, he needed ability, and last night proved he lacked such.
He turned his thoughts elsewhere, because the second he let them out he knew they'd be directed at the woman standing on the cliff before him.
Technically Cherche wasn't under his command so his options of discipline were limited, but anything relating to the safety of the royal family fell well under his jurisdiction, and delivering Lucina bound and unconscious last night had earned some attention.
Cherche stood by her actions, stating Lucina attacked Robin with intent to kill and that pacifying her was the right thing to do. Though now she looked out over the ocean with furrowed brow.
"I shouldn't need to tell you this wouldn't have happened if you'd helped capture the thief rather than subduing one of our own."
Cherche glanced back to see who had spoken, then faced out again. "I acted with the information I had at the time."
Frederick stepped aside as Minerva appeared and curled its tail around Cherche's boots protectively.
"They appear to have been taken by a dozen men. They were likely after Lord Chrom, and Robin interrupted the kidnapping," Frederick informed her, looking out over the sunny bay.
"Or had a hand in it himself," said a voice from behind.
They turned to see Lucina appear from between tents, glaring at Cherche who met her gaze evenly.
"Unlikely," Frederick spoke slowly, looking between them ready to stop round two, but when Lucina looked away first he knew there wouldn't be trouble. "He could have asked for Chrom to join him on a secluded walk more easily than gambling this debacle..." He gestured towards the injured and the smoke.
Lucina said nothing, averting her scowl to the town.
"For now we wait until scouts report with a lead, and tend to the wounded and the town. We caused this mess, we should have a hand in fixing it."
"My Fa-… Prince was kidnapped, and you want us to do nothing?" Lucina asked, stumbling on her wording as she glanced to Cherche, but the other woman was climbing aboard Minerva. "Where are you going?"
"To find my friend and your fa-prince," she answered as Lucina moved in front of them. "Not a smart place to be, dear."
"I'm coming with you."
"I don't think that's a good idea."
"I have to find Chrom."
"Last night you seemed more interested in killing Robin. An agenda you may safely consider me opposed to."
"I…" Lucina's mouth opened and closed, unable to deny that fact.
"I didn't think so." Minerva swerved but Lucina moved in front again, not flinching as the long jaws snapped before her face. Cherche sighed, pulling the reins back, "Dear…"
"I'm from a future where Robin betrays mankind to aid the Fel dragon in destroying the world, and Chrom… Is my father."
Cherche lowered the reins slowly. Frederick stared between the two women, visibly out of his element.
"I made a mistake last night, and my working against you and Robin has placed my father in danger. But right now I just want to see him safe again. Please, let me come with you."
Cherche looked to her, then to Frederick who nodded numbly. It was clear he wanted to be there when Chrom was found but Lucina would be more useful in a rescue than his injured state.
She scooted forward and Minerva lowered reluctantly, allowing Lucina to climb behind.
"Do hold on to something. I don't see myself bringing Minerva around should you fall," Cherche confessed with a smile, leaning back as Minerva disappeared over the cliff.
Frederick watched after them, wyvern reappearing in the distance soaring north.
Black swirled into black, muffled sounds growing sharper until words pierced into consciousness.
"Wake up, buttercup."
Chrom lurched upright as cold salt water met his face. He coughed and spat, shaking his dripping hair out as another bucket was passed forth and he heard Robin's voice from behind.
"No no, I'm awake‒!"
Water hit the back of Chrom's neck and ran down his bare torso before Robin let out a wet breath.
"...Thanks."
Ropes dug into Chrom's wrists and his hands felt numb, chafed ankles bound to chair legs. The room was dark, only light coming from a circular window barely the size of a dinner plate. He'd never been in an interrogation before, but were he to guess Robin was in an identical chair facing the other direction.
A burly brigand strolled into his range of vision and squatted before him. A calloused hand turned Chrom's face left, then right. Then the dark face loomed closer, nose centimeters from his hair before inhaling deeply.
"What the hell is he doing, Chrom is he smelling you?!"
The sound of a meaty thud came from behind and Robin grunted.
"I'm smelling: Payday," The one before Chrom spoke again with another whiff, resting on his haunches to look up at him.
"Whatever you want, just ask and I'll see that you're paid," Chrom offered calmly, staring where the man's eyes should be in the dark.
More laughter came from the shadows. More than just the two around them.
"I think I'd rather trust my contacts. Royal blood fetches a high price in the underground market. What do you think they'll pay for royalty?"
"A pretty penny, Vincent," affirmed the voice from behind.
"A pretty penny indeed, Victor."
"You guys are hella creepy."
Another thud from behind made Robin grunt, swearing loudly.
"Uh, guys? We got a payday already. We're not here to ransom," a familiar deep voice reminded them from the dark, somewhere behind Chrom.
"Screw that contract, we got a prince!"
"But we could work both deals, Vincent," uttered a low hiss from behind.
"We could work both deals, Victor," Vincent grinned, looking past Chrom. Robin shivered audibly.
"What deal? Who hired you?" Chrom leaned to the side trying to capture Vincent's attention before Robin was struck again.
"Someone who would be very, very upset with us if we failed to deliver after accepting payment," the hidden deep voice took a tone of urgency.
"What's he gonna do, eh? March across the ocean to find us?"
"That's a good one, Vincent."
"You're a good one, Victor."
"You're a good one too, Chrom," Robin whispered over his shoulder before Chrom's chair lurched forward from a sudden impact. Robin coughed hard, chair shaking as the familiar young deep voice called out.
"H-hey, guys, let's not get greedy here. The purse is fat enough for all of us to retire, let's just see it through, then you guys can‒"
"Kid," Victor's voice silenced the room. The walls creaked softly. "You're new to the gang, so I'll tell you how this works. We make the calls, you do the work, we all get paid. You start," hard knocking resounded through the room, "Thinking too hard, Vincent and Victor have to think long. And hard. About what we're gonna do with you and that smart mouth of yours."
"Victor always gives the best speeches." Vincent shuddered uncontrollably before Chrom and he heard Robin gag.
"You understand everything now? Get how this works?"
"Y-yeah. Sure, boss."
"Boss… I like that. Hear that, Vince? 'Boss.'"
"Sure did, Victor. It sounds nice."
"You sound nice."
"You have a beautiful chin."
"Now kiss," Robin muttered before swift bootsteps preceded a bang as the chair behind Chrom hit the wooden floors.
"I've heard enough from the little man. Scratch the contract, we're leaving this one in a ditch and making way," Vincent snarled as a sword drew.
Chrom yelled and Robin cried out, "I'm with child!" as soft-soled shoes crossed the floor.
"Whoa-whoa, how do we know that's the one?"
Chrom turned as much as he could, spotting Gaius enter the dim light, arms outstretched.
"Of course I'm the‒" Robin muttered before Gaius kicked him in the stomach as he stepped over the chair.
"I mean, the description was pretty vague. The only sure lead we have is through association," Gaius shrugged helplessly, "You don't want to risk shiving the wrong bag of money."
"You said this was the prince!"
"I said I thought that was the prince."
"You spent hours in that tavern, you couldn't figure the prince from the advisor?!"
"They're both high ranking, and no one called out 'Oh Prince Blahblahblah,' or 'Advisor So-and-So.' I thought the prince would chase the sword hardest, leaving the advisor behind but… Here they both are. Not giving us any clues about who is who," Gaius finished his explanation pointedly.
"Well who was carrying the sword when you stole it? That's the prince," Vincent suggested, pointing at the two bound men.
"I really couldn't say, it was pretty chaotic in there. There's just no safe way of going about it, so we should probably keep‒"
"Aren't royalty born with a tattoo or something that marks them?" Victor recalled, looking at Chrom's arm suspiciously.
"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. Why would a baby be born with a tattoo?" Robin muttered loudly.
Victor lifted his boot before Vincent called attention to Chrom again.
"It's this one… Look he was all dressed nice and still smells like perfume."
"I told you, you smell like perfume!" Robin called, before looking to Gaius, "The ladies love it."
Chrom ignored him, focusing on keeping a steady gaze on the man in front of him. He didn't understand Gaius' motives, but he understood his and Robin's mutual survival rested on keeping their identities secret.
"But this one talks a lot… Don't royalty talk a lot?"
They looked to Gaius.
"But one is the prince?"
"Oh definitely one's probably the prince. Maybe."
"Don't worry. We'll know soon enough."
Robin grunted as his chair was righted behind Chrom again, and Vincent cracked his knuckles.
In the dense forest north of Port Ferox, a wandering wyvern sniffed a tree branch as Cherche knelt in a dirt path.
"I overheard the scouts… At least a dozen men."
"Hm. No signs of struggle," Cherche ran a hand along dirt tracks. She caught Lucina's dark look and continued, "Chasing the thief must have exhausted them before they got here. Not every irregularity is a sign of Robin's evildoing."
Cherche clicked and Minerva followed her onto a left fork.
"If I may, Lady Cherche…" Lucina took a deep breath, watching the woman before her, "Why are you so certain Robin is who he claims to be?"
"I believe you are who you claim to be. Perhaps I'm simply gullible."
"But you don't believe what I say, of the future," Lucina stopped as Cherche paused to kneel again, bare fingers running through the dirt. The woman stood and continued walking.
"Who you claim to be doesn't contradict with who I know Robin to be. Your tale of woe and destruction does."
"Isn't it possible everything you know of him is just… An act?"
"No."
Lucina waited for more but Cherche kept walking. She disappeared around bushes humming gently.
"That's it… 'No?'" She followed again.
"If you gave him the chance, you'd understand 'No,' is already more than your question deserves."
"You two came to speaking terms only days ago. Lady Cherche you can't be so blind," Lucina stated in disbelief.
Cherche finally stopped, considering her for a moment before speaking.
"I didn't leave the grounds for most of my adult life, though Lord Virion housed many visitors. When I ran out of books, I studied people. Some knew I'd seen little of the world and attempted to impress me with tales of floating islands and such nonsense. Other spoke plainly, hiding little when their lives were particularly mundane. I like to believe I've honed a very accurate judge of character."
She paused when Minerva appeared, depositing a shred of blue cloth in her bare hand. She examined it before letting it fall to the dirt and continued on the path.
"Robin is the most genuine man I've ever met, and if you can't understand that fact first you're going to miss knowing a great person. We would both be lucky to find men with half his sincerity."
Lucina fell into silence as Cherche stooped suddenly, picking a glove from the ground. She handed it to Minerva to smell, wyvern's nostrils flaring before facing north.
"Scouts reported they'd gone to sea."
"Then they haven't gone far," Cherche gestured, climbing aboard and refastening her gauntlet, "Minerva has a scent."
Blood spattered wood behind Chrom and he winced, guilty it was Robin's turn but grateful he had a chance to breathe.
"Who taught you to punch?" Robin realigned his jaw with a crunch. "Your boyfriend?"
The next punch reverberated with laughter from the walls.
"This one's real funny."
"Real funny," Vincent agreed, stepping around Chrom again. "Ready to talk?"
"Get bent."
A fist crossed Chrom's face and Vincent grinned.
"Mine's funny too."
Chrom righted himself as another fist came. And another. Each a blunt splitting ache that made his head echo with waves of pain. He wanted the throbbing to stop, wanted to say what they wanted to know. It would be easy, his mouth was already hanging open, blood spilling onto his pants… Just form the words...
Robin choked a cough and Chrom shook himself present. Them not knowing was keeping him and Robin alive right now. He closed his mouth, focusing on the sharp stinging of open skin to keep his mind sharp. Pain had a way of making the brain ease, become slippery. Make things seem okay to talk about if it meant the end. They couldn't keep this up forever.
Robin's voice drifted into his thoughts. It took him a moment to realize he was talking. His left ear was swollen with a growing hematoma that he prayed wasn't going to get hit again.
"A'ight, Chrom‒" Robin slurred, emptying his mouth on the floor before continuing. "I wanna talk 'bout your daughter."
"L-Lucina…? Wha'bout her?" Chrom muttered groggily, sitting straighter.
"I hafta be honest. I've never liked her."
Thud.
"We're doing this... Now?" Chrom hissed, curling around his stomach as much as the restraints would allow.
"I don't know what you did to her as a kid, but she's become a terrible person. A real bitch."
"I think it's what you did. All I did was die. Also that's my daughter, so screw you."
"Take a number."
Robin paused for a flurry of progressively wetter thuds. He recovered while Victor was panting. "See what I'm talking about, she's coming between us. Remember how we used to do stuff?"
"We do stuff."
"Like get the crap kicked out of us? This never happened before Lucina."
"Therefore…" Chrom heaved, attempting to roll his eyes but slumping back in his chair.
"Hey. Hey!" Robin's voice jogged him back, "While I'm bein' honest though… She's kinda cute."
"Wha?" Chrom sat straighter, trying to turn to him just in time for a fist to collide with his nose.
"Yeah, man. She's so… Assertive. Confidence is attractive." Robin winced through his grin as something in his chest cracked with an exhale. "And those legs..."
"Stay away from my daughter."
"I'm gonna marry your daughter."
Chrom groaned, knowing Robin was getting a rise out of him to keep him conscious but really hoping his friend wasn't serious. It would be too weird.
"That's creepy," Vincent panted, standing straight and looking over Robin with revulsion, "What is she like, ten? If he had her when he was a teenager?"
"She's nine months!" Chrom exclaimed, nodding in agreement.
Robin rolled his eyes.
"That's not who I meant and you know‒!" A fist silenced him.
"DISGUSTING!" Vincent bellowed.
"He disgusts me too, Vincent. Hit him for me as well."
He did.
"My fist is tired, Victor. And I think I have a bone sticking out," Vincent muttered, turning his hand over in the dim light.
"Tha' migh' be a toof…" Robin slumped to let his mouth drain and ran his tongue along his gums, "No, nevermind. Yeah we should take a break so you can get that looked at."
"Throw 'em in holding. We can keep punching them in the faces later, when your fist feels better. Let's get some fresh air." Victor barked an order and silhouettes appeared to untie them.
They were carried down wooden stairs and dropped bodily into a cage barely two meters across. Soiled hay suggested it was used to keep animals at some point, though after the feet disappeared up the stairs no other sounds other than creaking walls could be heard. It was quiet down here save the blood pounding in Chrom's ear. Darkness surrounded them, save for two beams of light stretching from identical circular windows along the walls. It was enough to make out each other's silhouette but Chrom was relieved it was dark.
He wanted to debrief but the momentary peace and slow gentle rock made rest an appealing idea. If every part of his body touching the ground wasn't aching right now, he'd be unconscious.
"They were after me, I think," Robin spoke thickly. Chrom heard him roll over and spit.
"Or they wouldn't have changed their mind, when they found out they had a prince," Chrom followed his thought line.
"...Why? You're the prince, exalt, commander, Olivia's husband… All the positions that would warrant a bounty on your head, not mine."
"They said, 'across the ocean...'" Chrom muttered.
Walhart.
"To ensure victory? Still think you'd be the better bet."
"I don't know. You're getting famous, I guess. Someone knows who you are..." Chrom's eyelids drooped as he stared at the ceiling. A bird called somewhere distant. "Where are we?"
Robin grunted to lift his head, looking around.
"In a ship made anchor in a cove or… River, somewhere north of port."
"Not at sea?"
"Birds, no waves… They're laying low while they decide what to do with us. Once they do…" Robin didn't need to finish, grimacing as he lowered his head gingerly.
"...What if we don't say anything? Ride out the torture and everything else they throw at us."
Robin thought in silence. Chrom's eyes closed as he let himself be lulled by the sounds of the ship. The nerves against the hard wood stopped complaining and exhaustion overtook him.
"They'd probably settle for turning us both in alive… To Walhart, if he is the one who hired them," Robin realized, tenderly feeling his face.
Chrom didn't respond. The walls around him creaked as the ship rocked gently. A seagull called in the distance, a sombre and lonely cry.
"... Ending the war before it even starts."
Robin turned his head, taking in Chrom's silhouette. The chest rose and fell slowly, breathing shallow. Robin inhaled sharply, mustering the energy to lift an arm and rest a hand on Chrom's chest.
The heart beat strong under his fingertips. He'd be okay.
The darkness around them slowly eclipsed the beams of light and Robin let his eyes rest. His mind wandered, focus becoming difficult. One thought came through clear however: Chrom had to get out of this. He had to live.
At least alive he had hopes of being rescued by the Shepherds, or escaping or… Or something.
Robin rolled to face the ceiling, attention slipping. He fell into deep thought, half-lidded eyes closing as he slipped into memory.
"Their politics are settled with arena fights… And you think you going it the best idea."
"Why not, I'm a capable warrior."
"It's a fight to the death."
"Every fight is a fight to the death."
"You're also our leader and future exalt."
"Don't say that, Emmeryn will have that job until we both retire." Chrom laughed and Robin shook his head.
The edges of his vision were brightly blurred, colors enhanced. Robin focused, images sharpening.
As their commander and second-in-line for the throne Chrom could really do whatever he wanted, Robin had as much say as Falchion. Still, he insisted this was a terrible idea. The first rounds had gone well for the Shepherds, Vaike pulled Flavia's team ahead several "points." But even if they weren't ahead, risking Chrom's life in a Feroxi pit fight just seemed… Really dumb.
"Aow Aow Aow Aow!"
The crowd's chant made them both lean over the rail to see Flavia's gladiator drop to his knees below them, opposing victor looking up to the khan's box across the arena. The man's narrow eyes regarded his khan coolly, brown hair ruffling in the evening breeze.
Basilio gave a lopsided grin, raising a downward thumb.
Metal flourished, Basilio's gladiator not even looking as the sword flicked to clean the blade before resheathing. Blood fountained over his long clothes, ruining the furs along his sleeves and collar. He didn't seem terribly bothered, striding back towards the arena entrance with measured steps.
Robin and Chrom winced as the kneeling fighter fell backward, open neck revealing bone.
"Wow."
"Yeah."
"Think Basilio will part with him?" Robin asked, watching as the man disappeared into the bloodworks.
"We have to ask."
"Guy's a beast."
"Definitely skilled."
Flavia spat over the rail, looking at them in annoyance.
"When your thighs are finished moistening for the competition, maybe you'd like to line up your next champion. That was my best man."
"If you say so…" Robin muttered, looking over the railing again.
"I'd like to volunteer for the final round," Chrom announced, drawing the attention of everyone in the challenger box.
Flavia raised an eyebrow as she looked him over. He stared out across the arena, confident smirk in place as she spoke.
"Bold of you."
Robin followed his gaze.
"Oh you've gotta be kidding me."
"What?" Chrom asked defensively in reflex.
"You are not going into the arena for that."
"To win Flavia's support?"
"Anyone can win her support." Robin gestured towards the opposite box where the bloodied champion returned to Basilio's side, watching them expressionlessly. On the other side of the tall throne, a timid dancer was looking everywhere but the blood-soaked sands. "You're going in to show off!"
"Am not!"
"Is there a problem?" Frederick pushed past other dignitaries to address them.
"Yeah, we're trying to gain war support and Chrom's getting an erection over some…" Robin gestured to the light haired exotic dancer, "Temptress!"
"I am not!"
"Is this true, milord? Do you yearn to slake your lust on temptresses? 'Tis hardly proper though I can arrange for a courtesan to meet us for our stay‒"
"Oh gods Frederick stop talking‒!"
"What's going on?" Sumia and Lissa pushed past the knight.
"Basilio is undermining our war effort through seduction!"
"Robin, shut. Up," Chrom breathed through grit teeth.
Basilio squinted as he leaned back against his throne, fist to his cheek, watching the chaos unfold in Khan Flavia's box.
"Quite the rabble going on over there." Basilio gazed lazily to his left, but the man didn't comment.
"I'll bet it's about a woman," he continued sagely. His left-hand man grunted. "Most arguments are."
"Not everyone thinks about women as often as you do, Khan Basilio," the dancer to his right spoke.
Basilio roared with laughter, bloodied champion lurching forward with a meaty back slap.
"Back me up, Lon'qu."
The man glared at him.
"Oh, right. This one only thinks of men," Basilio grunted, wiping a bloody hand on his chest.
Lon'qu opened his mouth in indignation but Basilio was already shifting his weight to the other side.
"Alright, back me up, Marth. Truth: are you thinking of women, right now?"
Marth stood behind the dancer, mask glinting in the shadows.
"I can't say I am, Khan Basilio."
"You seem fond enough of Olivia," he argued, looking back across the arena where the Ylissean prince had his tactician in a headlock while the khan and knight struggled to separate them.
"Marth understands men and women can be friends," Olivia objected, frowning across the arena as Lon'qu considered her and Marth with furrowed brow. "What are they doing over there…"
"I don't know, but I'm bored," Basilio decided, standing to bellow, "Flavia, choose your champion for the final round!"
He sat again.
"I had a mind to give Flavia this one, see what she'd do with the power. But Marth's given me some new ideas. I think I'll keep the throne for a while longer."
He looked to Lon'qu, who nodded in acknowledgement.
"Make it quick."
"Always."
"I-if I may, Khan," Marth spoke up, stepping carefully around Olivia. "Allow me to fight the final round for you."
Basilio's remaining eye slowly moved onto her and stopped, noise from the crowd muffled to silence as Olivia turned her head and froze. Marth stood like a statue before the throne, one hand on weapon, other on belt. Confident. Certain. Cape caught mid-ruffle by time as Robin stepped into his own memory, an exercise he used to go back and see things from other perspectives.
Quite the actress, indeed.
Robin walked around "Marth." She hid it well, the hair was neatly cropped, clothes loose enough to hide her already slender form, malnutrition masking the more obvious features. But those were excuses. He should have realized it sooner. The walk, scent: female. He didn't blame himself for not realizing she was Chrom's daughter ‒ that was a stretch even for his imagination. But that she'd fooled him for so long was rather embarrassing.
He leaned around to her front, swiping his hand and the mask turned dust.
That sombre gaze. Eyes that had never known a smile. Deep down, past the color and the brand, a soul that had been broken and reforged by experiences so many times that only the shell resembled the original person.
Lucina was a zealot in her goal of preventing her past becoming their future. She believed in it so strongly she'd kill him or anyone else she felt would threaten her father ‒ the key to their victory. She was the perfect soldier, a blend of single-minded purpose and unquestioning dedication.
But not by choice.
He realized that as he stood in front of her. Back in Ylisse, this very second, she was an infant. A new soul, innocent and free from responsibility with as many futures as stars in the sky. Her fate was her own, in the world they would save for her. She would grow into a beautiful young woman and become a princess, or a priestess, or a pegasus handler if she so chose. Her life was hers to decide, and she would become a completely different person than the Lucina before him now.
Did she feel cheated? Jealous, of the life she never had? She'd done what she needed to do to survive, and Robin had seen enough war to know what that did.
A good person, who waded in deep armed with morality and honor never came out the same. Thinkers, creators, gentle souls… Didn't belong on the battlefield. The death that encompassed their lives haunted their dreams and left the body as a mockery. A token, to remember the person by. For others to long and mourn for as the shell lived the remainder of its life in a wake. That was the person standing before him.
He didn't know Lucina. He didn't know where she'd been or what she'd seen, but felt uncharacteristic pity unlike anything he'd felt before welling inside him now. This was his best friend's child, his future…
And he'd failed her. In some shape or form, he didn't save her.
His gaze hardened as he looked into those deep blue eyes, and he formed words he'd never spoken before.
"I'm sorry."
They didn't register, but he knew if they could it would be only with scorn. She didn't want his words or his understanding. She wanted her life back.
Maybe it was too late for him to give her the past. But if he saved Chrom he could offer her a future.