Part three of the update. Warning for the chapter: there's a fade-to-black that's kind of risque, at least for me (I really don't write smut). I find it weird, so it may not flow well, but I wrote too much around it to change it now. Hope it's not too off-putting.

Additionally, there's a bit of a tonal difference between this chapter and the last few. It's a consequence of my having planned quite a few more scenes than actually ended up being written. Not much I can do about that now, so just bear it in mind.

Fellspawn

Chapter Ten

Robin laughed as she noticed Nowi pestering her manakete daughter, poking at her unamused face and tugging on her brown braids in an attempt to get her to play with her. Stahl stood nearby, trying fruitlessly to save his daughter from his wife's machinations.

Robin found the moment of levity uplifting, even as she prepared herself mentally for the dreadful task ahead. As they journeyed north, the Shepherds had heard tales of slavers operating in the area, and it seemed they were most recently holed up in an abandoned fort nearby. Chrom, as always, could not let any injustice stand, and so they were preparing to strike at the slaver's outpost.

Anytime now, she thought, tapping her fingers against her arm as she waited for Chrom, Flavia, and Frederick to exit the command tent, Robin herself having been banished for being 'so nervous she would have taxed even Emm's patience', to quote His Exaltedness. The East Khan had accompanied them when they departed from Valm, Basilio having stayed behind to manage the war in their absence.

A slender arm found its way around her waist, a throaty laugh accompanying it. "Mm, Robin. Such darkness in you. You seem rather lonesome. Jealous of the happy family?"

Robin laughed, oddly cheered by the dark mage's words. "Not likely. I have enough family of my own now—haven't you heard?"

Tharja shot her a dark look. "Of course. It's you."

Robin shivered, a bit put off by the reminder of Tharja's obsessive ways. "Right. Well, I don't begrudge Nowi and Stahl their happiness."

"Hmm, what about my happiness?" Tharja asked, running a hand along Robin's cheeks. "I'd be willing to comfort you. Maybe even give you some more family of your own."

Honestly, Robin considered it. Not the child aspect—she was not remotely ready for that, and in the middle of a war was a terrible time for any of the soldiers to get pregnant—but the offer of physical intimacy. Tharja was beautiful and enthusiastic, and Robin could use the release. On top of that, Tharja was a good friend, though Robin had initially been creeped out by her stalkerish intensity. It had died down lately, though, especially since it had been revealed that the two of them had a child down the line, and most of the creepy behavior had evolved into a very tempting flirtation as, Robin assumed, the dark mage gained confidence in their relationship.

In light of that, Robin smiled playfully at Tharja. "I'll consider it."

With a gleeful smirk, Tharja asked, "Is that so?"

"If!" Robin interjected with a smirk.

Tharja's gaze became calculated, her voice full of dark promise. "'If' what?"

"If you're very convincing," she shot Tharja a teasing glance, pulling away. Blinking, she became serious. "Not the baby thing, though. It's far too soon for that."

"Aww," Tharja pouted, though she truthfully did not seem too bothered. "Are hexes allowed?"

Robin paled. "Absolutely not."

Tharja nodded, retreating backwards into the shadows behind the tent, giggling as she disappeared. "Prepare yourself."

"What have I gotten myself into?" Robin muttered, though a bit of excitement crept into her.

A few hours later, they began the infiltration. Robin and her fellow foot soldiers and cavalry attacked the fort from the south as the flying units approached from the north, keeping a careful watch for any archers. She fought back-to-back with Henry, though she had spotted Tharja weaving in and out of her peripheral vision a few times thus far in the battle. Apparently, the dark mage was sticking close.

"Nya hah hah!" Henry let out his signature laugh as one of the slavers exploded from the force of his dark magic. Robin shot an Arcthunder off, and it ricocheted through the enemy ranks.

"Henry, sometimes your bloodlust really scares me," she huffed between attacks.

"Oh? Well, gee, should I stop? I'm not sure if it'll work, but there are a few hexes that might change my personality enough… Only if you order it, though! Nyah hah hah!" he said, apparently not nearly as out of breath as she was.

"That won't… be necessary. So long as you … confine it to Risen and enemy soldiers… we should be fine!" Robin panted.

"Righty-o, Robin!"

Finally, they cut down enough slavers to breach the entrance to the fort, running through the entryway to meet more enemies inside. Tharja followed, slipping into the shadows to catch a few berserkers unawares. "Watch your back," Tharja murmured in Robin's ear as she passed her.

"Mm-hmm," Robin assented.

Together, the three fought their way to the center of the keep, joining up with some of their flying forces.

"Hey! She's new! I spy a little archer!" Henry sang.

Robin waited for a lull to search the battlefield. Her eyes skimmed over Sumia and Cherche's mounts, till finally she noticed a second rider on Cynthia's pegasus. Henry must have a discerning eye to spot her, as the pair were on the far side of the melee. The strange girl was wiry, with the typical archer's muscle in her arms and shoulders, her skin Plegian-dark and her hair styled in a white pixie cut. Is that a black feather in her headband? Robin thought idly. Is it a crow's?

"Blood and thunder!" Robin heard, and had the voice not been tinny and high, she would have thought the cry originated from the vampiric man beside her.

Far be it from me to stereotype my own people, Robin thought. But are all Plegians so weird? Another second, and the panic briefly set in. Am I that weird?

A blow to the shoulder brought her mind back into the battle, and she torched the berserker who struck her.

"Nyah hah hah! That one looked nasty!"

Robin grit her teeth, pushing through the pain. The battle was almost over. Dodging an opposing mage's Elfire, she lobbed back an Arcfire of her own, laughing a little herself when his robes caught on fire. Catching Tharja's teasing smirk, she reconsidered. Upon reflection, maybe I am a bit strange myself.

Minutes later, the battle was over, and Sumia and Cherche flew off to tell the others and pick off any stragglers. Morgan, who had joined them at some point when Robin was not looking, trotted over to heal Robin's shoulder wound. "Does that hurt, Mama?"

Robin choked back the sarcasm that threatened to slip out. "Yes, little heart, it does."

Morgan peeled back her sleeves and began to work on the nasty bruise, and Robin admired Morgan's skill in healing. She wondered if Morgan had chosen the sage's path to emulate her Aunt Lissa.

Tharja and Henry approached healer and patient as Cynthia dismounted and helped the archer down after her. Walking her pegasus in lazy circles forward the same way Sumia always did after a battle—the queen had eagerly explained to Robin, when the tactician inquired, that she did so in order to make sure the mare's limbs would not seize up after such intense activity, much the same way that soldiers stretched after training bouts—Cynthia and her companion meandered over towards the rest of them.

"Hi!" Cynthia chirped, then winced when she saw Robin's bruise. "Ooh, that looks like a nasty one, Aunt Robin!"

"Robin was being naughty," Tharja teased. "She didn't listen to me."

The archer girl shivered fearfully, and Robin took notice. Though fierce in battle, it seemed that the girl was quite timid otherwise. Cynthia patted her friend on the shoulder almost absently, leaning forward to get a better look at Robin's arm.

Curious and hoping to deflect attention away from her throbbing arm, Robin asked, "Who is your friend, Cynthia?"

"Oh, sorry!" The girl gasped. "This is Noire! She's a really good archer, and she's sweet as a pegasus! Shy as one, too," she added as an afterthought. Noire giggled nervously, her eyes fixed on Tharja. Her body language said she was preparing to flee.

"Do you have something to say, girl?" Tharja demanded. "Speak up."

"Yes, ma'am!" Noire yelped. "I mean… uhm… h-here. Please look at this." She pulled her short back to reveal long, gold teardrop earrings. Immediately, Robin's eyes went to Tharja's ears, where a similar pair dangled.

Oh. Robin examined the girl with fresh eyes. She had Robin's own eyes, and the shape of her face was all Tharja, but in build, she resembled neither of them. Interestingly, a few of her expressions almost imitated Henry's.

"Nice earrings," Tharja complimented dispassionately. "Look just like mine. You messing around with alchemy? Or is this something… darker?"

"Tharja—" Robin started to explain. Henry was too busy prodding Cynthia's pegasus to do so, if he even grasped the situation, and Cynthia, though she must have known, appeared to staying out of it. Morgan was too focused on the wound to be paying much attention.

"Wha—?" Noire interrupted, agitated. "N-No! It's nothing of the sort! It's just…"

"Tell me the truth, girl," Tharja threatened, although Robin rather suspected she was toning down her glare in respect for the girl's youth. "You don't want to see what happens if you lie to me."

Regardless, the glare seemed plenty intimidating to their timid daughter, as Noire pleaded, "P-Please, just give me… I n-need a moment...M-My talisman… Wh-Where is my talisman…" She searched through her clothes frantically till she found what she was seeking. She clutched at a thin block of wood. Suddenly, she screamed, "I am blood and thunder! I am a righteous fury! I am your future daughter!"

Absurdly, Tharja showed no signs of believing her. "You are trying my patience."

Robin gaped at her, amazed that she could deny the evidence in front of her.

"Insolence! I speak the truth! The earrings I wear also hail from the future! A memento of you, my departed mother!"

Tharja seemed to consider that. "And that bizarre talisman?"

"I find myself curious about that, as well," Robin admitted, disturbed.

"Your own handiwork!" Noire directed toward Tharja. "Wrought to steel the mewling heart of your coward daughter! In its strength did I find blessed escape from grief and solitude! Fear of death and killing, too, it drove from me, until I became an avatar of retribution! Only by clinging to it have I survived the crushing desolation of a ruinated future!" She cackled, spittle flying.

Robin blinked, horrified, but Tharja merely sighed. "Oh, give me that," she snapped, plucking the talisman from their daughter's hands.

Immediately, Noire shrunk back. "Um, w-wait! I need that! Without it, I can't—"

"Survive?" Tharja scoffed. "You can and will. And not by becoming some avatar of retribution," she said firmly. "Just be my daughter. Leave the retribution to me."

"M-Mother…" Noire breathed, tearing up. But Tharja was busy scrutinizing the talisman.

"My," she purred. "This is a nasty little number. The future me is good. And very, very bad." She giggled throatily. "I can't wait."

"M-Mother, you're f-frightening me! A-Again!" Noire whimpered.

"This little trinket will advance my research in the dark arts nicely," Tharja mused. She glanced up at Noire. "Hmm… You have my blood, right? I'm going to need a bit of it back."

Please, gods, let her be joking, Robin prayed.

Noire clearly did not think so, letting out a screech. "I...I mean… Bleed me dry and I shall be as thunder still!"

"See?" Tharja smiled genuinely. "No daughter of mine needs some mummer's prop to be strong." She let out another giggle.

Noire joined in with her maniacal laugh. Henry, having heard them, let loose his signature "Nyah hah hah!"

Robin groaned. When did this become my life? Cynthia shot Robin a commiserating glance.

"All finished!" Morgan chirped. "Here you go, Mama!" She showed Robin the healed wound.

"Excellent work, Morgan," Robin praised. "Your skills keep on improving."

Morgan grinned. "Aw, thanks!"

Noire sucked in a breath. "Morgan?"

Morgan focused her attention on Noire for the first time since the archer had joined them. "Oh, hey, Noire, right? We met just before Lucina sent us through the portal."

"Y-Yes," Noire replied a little sadly, stepping forward to hug her briefly. "I d-didn't get the chance to s-say hello, really. W-We, I mean I—" she cut herself off, then tried again. "I missed you, little sister."

Morgan returned the hug, but she did not seem to grasp the depth of Noire's sadness. "Aw, I'd say I missed you, too, but I don't really know you! I was too little to remember."

When Noire smiled sadly, Morgan grimaced in apology. "I-I know," Noire whispered.

Tharja was still turning her trinket over in her hands, so Robin stepped forward to redirect the conversation herself. "Hello, Noire. I'm…"

"I-I know…" Noire interrupted. "H-Hi, Mama."

Robin smiled.

"Y-You aren't mad at me, are you?" Noire asked, twiddling her thumbs.

"What?" Robin was taken aback. "Of course not! Why would you think that?"

"W-Well, it's just… I remember you so w-warm, but you didn't s-say anything j-just now, and Henry used to tell me that as l-long as I never hexed you, you would be r-really accepting… but M-Mother always said that M-Mama would b-be so disappointed in me if she were still around, s-so I wasn't sure…"

Robin's smile froze on her face at the mention of Future Tharja's words. She pulled Noire into a hug. "Oh, I'm sorry, sweetie. I was just surprised at first, and then I didn't want to interrupt you and your mother."

"O-oh," Noire said, hugging her tentatively.

"And I don't know what mine and Tharja's relationship was in your future," Robin said firmly. "But I can assure you that I would not have been disappointed in you."

Noire sniffled. "Thanks…"

After interrogating her other children about Noire's home life, Robin stormed over to Tharja's tent. The dark mage was not in it, but Robin called her name anyway, certain that she would answer her. Sure enough, Tharja slinked into the tent after only a few moments. "Yes, Robin?" she purred, but Robin was not in the mood.

"Tharja, we need to talk."

Tharja blinked. "About what?"

"Our daughter's future."

Tharja took a seat on the floor, her legs curling up by her side. She waved for Robin to continue.

"The kids told me some very troubling things. I refuse to hold you accountable for something you haven't done yet, but I need you to make me a promise now."

"Anything," Tharja swore.

Robin crouched down, taking Tharja's hands in hers. "If something happens to me—"

"If anyone dares—"

"If something happens to me," Robin repeated. "I don't care how broken it leaves you, you will not take it out on our daughter. Understand? No hexing her, ever, and no using me as a weapon to hurt her or a reason to blame her."

Tharja's expression was stark horror. "I did that?"

Robin nodded warily.

"I swear." Tharja's tone was fierce. "She's ours. I will do it right this time."

Robin let out a breath of relief. "Good. I know you can be a good mother, Tharja, and any daughter of ours is precious."

Suddenly, Tharja smirked. "Daughter of ours," she mused, slinking closer, laying a hand on Robin's shoulder. "I like that."

"Tharja," Robin muttered in warning.

"Did you corner me here on purpose?" Tharja asked, her voice low and flirtatious. "Have you given more thought to my… offer?"

"I've thought about it," Robin murmured. "It's tempting."

"It was meant to be," Tharja purred, pressing herself against Robin, stroking her face with a gentle hand. Robin leaned into her touch, and the mage's smirk widened.

"Is that a yes?" Tharja whispered in Robin's ear. In answer, Robin let her hand rest at Tharja's waist and tilted her head to the side to give Tharja access to her neck, an invitation that Tharja took, feathering kisses down her skin. "Excellent," Tharja murmured, pushing Robin back against her sleeping pallet.

As much as she loved Tharja and their daughter, there was only so much time Robin could spend with their … taxing personalities before she completely lost her mind, so she found herself gravitating back to some of her other children.

Today, it was Robin's turn to cook, and Severa, Owain, and Lucina were keeping her company in the kitchen, taking turns critiquing her cooking.

"Carrot soup?" Severa scrunched up her nose. "Ew! Why would anyone want to eat that?"

"Taguel are quite fond of it," Robin hummed. "I always make some for Panne."

"How strange," Lucina mused. "Yarne never mentioned anything of the sort."

"Yarne?" Robin inquired, trying to recall if she had ever heard them mention the name.

"Panne and Donnel's son," Lucina explained. "He's half-taguel."

"He's a weirdo." Severa rolled her eyes, then suddenly smirked. "It's good you're sympathetic to taguel," she said sweetly. "Given that you may have taguel grandbabies."

"What?" Robin dropped a stirring spoon, her eyes wide as saucers. "Grandbabies?" It had never occurred to her, the consequence of half her children being fully grown.

Laughing heartily, Severa nearly fell off the barrel she had perched herself on. Her face innocent, Lucina joined in, "Yarne and Kjelle really grew close over the years after we all came together."

"Kjelle?" Robin blinked.

"The last gentle flower of your bloodline, as blunt as a rusty sword, and as striking as thunder!" Owain exclaimed.

Robin took a second to translate the Owain-speak. "She's my last daughter?" she clarified.

"Indeed!" Owain confirmed.

"You don't think Inigo counts as a 'gentle flower'?" Severa snickered.

Owain rolled his eyes. "More like a bitter root," he muttered sourly.

Lucina sighed. "I had hoped your rivalry would fade over time, Owain."

"Alas, 'tis not to be! We are two opposing armies, fated to forever be in opposition, trapped with a vicious enmity!"

Severa rolled her eyes. "So, speaking of babies…"

"Please let's not," Robin inserted, but Severa steamrolled through her.

"You know it's not Noire's turn to be born yet, right?" Severa teased.

Robin paled rapidly, scrambling to uncover a boiling pot. She cleared her throat. "W-What makes you say that, sweetheart?"

Lucina and Owain turned to Severa with curious eyes. The pigtailed girl explained, "Rumor is you've been seen coming in and out of Tharja's tent, clothes all mussed. Got anything to confess?"

Owain snorted. "Your father's the priest, Severa. You can't take confession."

Severa rolled her eyes, but otherwise ignored him, fixing Robin with her glance instead. Robin sighed, resigned. "How many people know?"

"Right now? Just me," Severa said. "Well, us, anyway. I guess these losers know now, too."

"By tomorrow, Aunt Lissa," Lucina added. "Knowing Severa." The girl in question pouted.

"By the day after, the entire camp," Owain finished. "Knowing Mother."

Robin groaned, stirring the stew with a fresh spoon. "I'll never live down the teasing."

Severa jumped down from her barrel. "I have so many questions."

Robin snorted. "No one had the talk with you?"

Severa glared. "Of course I had the talk! I meant about your relationship, not sex in general! Gawds."

Robin smirked. "Shoot, then."

"What could you possibly see in her?" Severa burst out.

Robin raised an eyebrow. "She's loyal, intelligent, extremely attractive—"

"Alright, alright!" Owain cut her off. "Please leave it there."

Robin's smirk grew. "Your sister started this conversation."

Owain groaned. "Seeeevera! Why must you concern yourself with grisly details such as these?"

Grisly details? Robin mouthed.

Lucina blushed a little. "I'm not certain I want to know the specifics of Aunt Robin's relationships, either."

Severa groaned, taking a seat on the barrel again and kicking it with her heels in frustration. "She's the only one doing anything! Other than the married couples, who are no fun to tease, the only one getting any action is Vaike, and he's shameless!" She smirked.

Robin's eyebrows lifted. "Who is Vaike sleeping with?"

Lucina choked.

"You're each as bad as the other. The daughter's blood flows true," Owain groaned.

Severa grinned toothily. "Why, Mama, I didn't know you were interested."

Robin shrugged. "I'm just gathering information. It could be important. You know, for tactics."

"Yeah, right. Anyway, no one in the Shepherds—he picks up the occasional maiden in taverns when we pass a village. I do get to tease him a little when one of them resembles anyone in the Shepherds, though. He couldn't look at Sully for a week after I caught him picking up a redhead. She thought he was avoiding her because of her cooking, and she beat him up." Severa cackled.

"I remember that!" Owain gasped.

"As do I," Lucina added, perturbed. "Severa, must you cause chaos everywhere you go?"

"Yeah, well, love you too, Lucy." Severa rolled her eyes.

Robin merely chuckled. "And here I thought she caught him spying on her."

Lucina's eyes widened. "V-Vaike does that? A Shepherd spies on women?"

"Other than Tharja spying on dear Mama, you mean?" Severa snorted. "Vaike's a big-time pervert."

"It's really distasteful," Robin agreed. "But he's gotten better, and Sully's horse has been keeping an eye on him." She teased Lucina, "Had you thought we were all paragons of virtue?"

Lucina shook her head slowly. "Not precisely. But we grew up hearing tales of the Shepherds as heroes. It's a little strange to hear they have such flaws of their own."

"But it makes them that much more interesting! Though their pasts be riddled with dark secrets, they stand tall against the forces of oppression!" Owain exclaimed.

Robin tilted her head. "When you look at it from that perspective, it is a tad poetic." She scrutinized Owain. "You know, I think you and Sumia would get along well if you spoke the same language."

Severa snorted.

"So…" Robin dragged the word out. "Gerome and Cynthia…"

"Oh my gods, yes," Severa groaned. "Let me tell you what I caught these two weirdos doing the other day!"