'Easy does it, Robby,'

'Steady,' Chrom sighs with his arm wrapped around his tactician's waist, supporting the man from further running his left leg as the journey back to camp. Lissa had been decidedly unamused when she had examined him and had gotten to his ankle which was swollen, purpling and very dislocated once they had cut away his leather boot. It had been a mess she could do little but numb until they could get to the healer's tent.

Despite this injury and however much pain it must have been causing Robin, the man was stubbornly refusing to lean on Chrom even with how little choice he was given in the matter. 'You don't have to do this,' Robin bites out with some difficulty, probably struggling with his words now he didn't have his patented control.

'Don't be ridiculous, Robin,' Chrom huffs while pulling his stiff friend closer. He wished that he knew what to do to make Robin allow himself to relax because whatever it was, Chrom would do it. 'It's a long trek back to Ylisstol and even on a steed, you're going to jostle your leg so let me help you now.'

'No, we shouldn't head for Ylisstol.' Robin shakes his head, allowing more strands of hair free from where it'd been hastily tied it with a clasp that Maribelle had given him. To "make him more presentable", apparently. Robin's eyes are direct then, as steadfast and true as they had always been. 'We need to go to Ferox.'

'Huh?' Lissa almost trips.

Chrom blinks, as that hadn't been what he'd expected the protest to be about. 'What?' he asks, with the sudden understanding that perhaps he should have spoken with his tactician about this before.

'A majority of our troops are Feroxian and you'll agree that we are vastly weakened, yes?' Robin begins as intelligence burns. Chrom has never known someone so bright. 'Risen still roam - if we were to get surrounded in this condition I can't guarantee our safety once are forces broke off from Basilio and Flavia if we headed to Ylisse.'

'Then…' Chrom fumbles for a moment. 'Then what do you recommend? The Council will want us back as soon as possible. You know how unhappy they were when they discovered that our party included the Feroxi.'

'The Council's opinion of the Feroxi are gratuitous and unbidden. If they have something to say then they really should direct their doubts to Khan Flavia.' Robin's tongue is cutting, especially in an area where he tried to be delicate. Chrom didn't mind and he could he Lissa's stifled snort a mile away. 'I've got a half written up document of allegiance that can officiate the countries relations. The Council can complain about that.'

Regna Ferox hadn't ever given Ylisse trouble but any sort of peace written out on paper that Emmeryn had attempted to push, failed. The Khans had never been interested before and with at least one antagonistic neighbour, Emm had been fine with how things had been because neutrality was better than the alternative. If Robin thought that it would succeed now, Chrom was certain his tactician to be right. However, they had digressed a bit. 'And, as ever, I shall trust you to guide us. But, Robin…' he prompts.

'Yeah, what's this about heading to Ferox?' Lissa inquires though she is no doubt missing her bed back at the castle. Missing home and everything that that entails.

Robin huffs a frustrated breath, shifting in obvious pain as they continue their way to the Healer's tent. 'I won't lose anymore men, Chrom. The Council may be…displeased, but I place the safety of you and our company above their sensibilities.' Robin bites his lip, one of his tells as Chrom senses the tension, can feel the agitation. 'We've already lost too many, Chrom. I have lost too many -'

'Our loses were not your fault, Robin,' Chrom interrupts though his words will mean little. Robin is a man of honour; he carries every death with him as a personal failure. It doesn't matter to Robin that it is his tactics that keep the majority of them alive, or that without Robin entirely the campaign would have been for nought. 'You cannot save everyone.'

'I should have been able to save her,' blurts itself out of Robin's mouth. There was no doubt in Chrom's mind who "she" was, it didn't need to be confirmed. The guilt surrounding that day took on a life of its own but it wasn't something Chrom wanted Robin carrying.

'Don't do this,' Chrom murmurs as he tightens his hold on Robin. Emm's death was still too raw for Chrom to speak of but Robin wasn't at fault. If Robin hadn't been there… The silence is stifling and Lissa has gone impossibly white in the corner of his eye. 'Don't do this to yourself.'

'I should have been able to do better,' Robin continues to push as if he does not see the absolution he should not feel he needs. His mouth is a tense, frigid line with grief glazing his eyes into something murky.

'I don't expect you to do better,' Chrom tries to emphases because Robing doesn't just give his all to the cause, he gives everything. Chrom can in no way undermine that than he could stab Robin in the back. 'You did your best.'

Robin half kills himself performing his duties. Blood, sweat and tears and been shred for a country Robin didn't even hail from, with every bit of effort and energy dedicated to ensuring the safety to people he had no fealty to. 'Robin,' Chrom says as he attempts to soothe this misplaced hurt. 'What happened - Emm, she…' he takes a shuddering breath before forcing the rest of the words out. 'She made the choice to protect us. Don't take that away from her.'

'It shouldn't have come down to that,' Robin explodes quietly while his jaw is clenching shut. 'You were relying on me and I let you down.' Where Chrom had fought to go on, Robin struggles to stop as he involuntarily glanced towards Lissa. 'I let you both down.'

'Robin -'

'I think,' Lissa's voice wobbles as she steps away from them. 'I think while you - hash this out, I'll go…go tell Frederick our route will be changing.' Robin cringes as she starts to hurry away with her shoulders rounded like they are about to march again. Her skirt and hair are already trailing behind her in a curtain of yellow and gold when she swivels back around, her eyes too bright.

'Make sure to take care of him, bro. I'll meet you at the tent.'

'Alright,' Chrom sighs as she starts to jog away. 'Robin,' Chrom starts again, throat tight.

'I'm sorry,' Robin says immediately with a pinched expression. 'I didn't mean to bring any of this up again.'

'I…don't care about that,' Chrom responds while wishing that Robin would open just a little bit more. The tactician simply refused to talk about his own problems which complicated things. 'Robin, I don't blame you. No one does.'

Chrom had been - devastated would have been putting it mildly but he hadn't thought Robin had been at fault, not for a second. Robin had been meticulous because he understood what was at stake. He took his usual level of diligence and doubled it. Robin had, had contingency plans and escape routes mapped out. He'd arranged the added foot soldiers and aid of the Pegasus Knights. He'd done everything he could.

And when everything went wrong, Robin had pulled through for Chrom again by literally forcing him to his feet and leading them out of there. Chrom hadn't been fit to fight, so Robin protected him. Chrom hadn't been capable to lead, so Robin took command. Robin shouldered a whole army that day and did it while thinking of himself as a failure.

'I do,' Robin responds bitterly.

'Robin,' Chrom addresses with so much severity he thinks they could both suffocate under it. 'Without you -'

'Stop.' Robin looks pained now, his eyes shut before they are readdressing Chrom with a helplessness that Chrom would do anything to remove. 'I can't - I can't do this. Now. Not like this.'

Chrom swallows and tries to ignore the tightness of his stomach as he concentrates on repositioning his grip on his - his friend. Robin had rarely denied him before, especially in areas of communication. Even now words were flooding Chrom's mouth. He wanted to say them, he wanted to try and give comfort, to ask why Robin thought he was so unworthy - but..it wouldn't be fair.

To continue now would be a breach of privacy, of trust, with Robin unable to challenge any truth asked of him. Staring at Robin and his pleading, Chrom could do nothing less but nod. 'Of course,' Chrom responds. 'But…please, Robin. Don't blame yourself unnecessarily.'

Numbly, Chrom watches as Robin bites down on his abused lip as if to stop himself from responding with something that would be further damning. Maybe it'd been foolish of Chrom, but Robin had been so put together through the campaign, a rock for the company that he hadn't expected the tactician to be harbouring so much guilt.

Chrom heard a lot about how people thought Robin was - detached, and although it was something that they were quickly disillusioned of, it cropped back up more times than Chrom cared for. Robin's struggles was with emoting, not caring. If anything, Chrom thought that Robin felt too much, too quickly.

With his memory how it was, it left Robin in a delicate situation. Made things - him, perhaps - a tad complicated. Whatever had ailed his mind; stolen his his memories, had also taken other things too. Things you grew learning. Often times it was just the case of having Robin do something and he would pick it up again, remember, but it didn't solve the problem.

'Lord Chrom! Robin!' a voice called, jolting Chrom out of his musings as he looked up to see Stahl approaching in an exhausted half-run, armour clanking with every step as he closed the distance between them. 'The princess said you might require a guard to the Healer's tent,' the knight informs simply as he stops in front of them.

Chrom loved his sister. 'Yes, that'd be appreciated.' He thanks with a drained smile, the weak pull of his lips enough to strain his face. Chrom had his hands full and although the Plegian troops had surrendered, he had little trust out on the remains of a battlefield, so vulnerable. With his hands full like this, he wouldn't be able to attack and Robin was past defending.

Stahl nodded though his green eyes were flickering to Robin as he moved to walk with them. 'Ah. Did…Lissa tell you…?' Chrom trailed off as he glanced over the top of Robin's head, never so glad that the man's robe was shredded and that his features were left undisguised, though it probably just left Robin feeling even more exposed.

Stahl nodded grimly, his face sober as he confirmed as much. Robin had had armoured units either stay back or left them at the camp due to the terrain; worried about them getting separated from the main pact and then picked off. Stahl had been one of the few mounted knights defending their rear but he wouldn't have been anywhere close to the front lines.

Stahl takes a step to Robin's side, shifting his weapon in his grip as he does so. His gaze is undeniably soft when he looks at Robin. 'Heard you'd run afoul of a Dark Mage. How're you holding up, Robin?'

'I've been better,' Robin responds delicately and it is decidedly stiff but Chrom can see the man attempt a smile. Robin was used to putting on airs, to pretending but Chrom still hadn't seen the tactician quite so unguarded before, so disarmed.

'Well,' Stahl hesitates, a frown shadowing his eyes. 'No biggie, Robin. Everything will work itself out.'

Something agitated flashes across Robin's face and it looks like he's fighting with himself before his mouth is opening. 'Say that again once I've spoken of secrets that I've promised to safeguard.' The snap is sharp, pained. Of course, Robin spent near all his time getting to know the people around him, and with the tactician so observant it wasn't a surprise that he knew things that he would feel he needed to protect.

Stahl hums awkwardly. 'That could make things a bit inconvenient,' Stahl says, tone appeasing and kind. In a way he was Sully's exact opposite who was abrasive and often times harsh. That they worked so well together was ironic. 'It's not going to be your fault. I'm sure everyone will understand.'

'Will you understand?' Robin whispers. The tension under his eyes makes him look years older and Chrom regrets him adding to his tactician's stress. He still remembered the fresh face Robin once wore before he had been brought into one conflict after another.

'Yes,' Stahl's answer is immediate and sincere though it does little to ease any of the wariness from Robin's frame, Chrom is still grateful for the knights steadfast loyalty. 'You're my friend, Robin. What's a few words compared to everything we've been through?'

'What's throwing people's secrets back in their faces in the sum of a few battles?' Reborn retorts. Chrom can feel the trembling on against his skin. 'And then there's me. What am I going to do if I tell -?'

Without warning, Robin was slamming a fist into his own face. The strength of the blow unbalances Chrom who is fatigued and sore and the momentum sends them both to the ground. Chrom grunts when he lands with the force of touchdown reverberating through his spine. Robin's weight is bruising and Falchion's hilt stabs into his ribs with the angle they had landed.

'Milord! Robin!' Stahl gasps, dropping to hover over them but Chrom's waiting for the world to stop spinning as his injuries start to scream at him. He hisses out the pain, pushing it down as he focuses on his side because Robin would have taken the brunt of the fall with how they'd gone down.

'Robin?' The tactician is half draped over Chrom's lap, half sprawled over the sand. Robin's head is braced uncomfortably against Chrom's pauldron which he seemed to have knocked in the fall. His nose is red but it is luckily not bleeding while his bad leg still straight, but his eyes squeezed shut and a trembling hand smothering his mouth. 'Blast it, Robin!'

Chrom can't help but yell. Robin had said himself that he was in a state, enough that Lissa needed him to return to camp. To risk further injury - a head wound of all things was - it was -

'Robin, can you open your eyes?' Stahl asks calmly from where he's crouched with them. His expression is dark with concern, hands fluttering around their tactician like he wasn't sure if he should touch or not. 'Robin.'

Robin groans, shattered and nasally. His breath fans against Chrom's check though it was so hot in Plegia he could barely feel it. In fact, Robin was almost cold in the climate. '…I hate my luck,' the tactician complains in an act of rare self-pity. His eyes wrench open, and they're watering now.. Chrom despises how he can't tell if they're tears or just the shock from impact.

Deeply exasperated and greatly worried, Chrom lets go of the anger and sighs. 'Was that really necessary?'

Before Robin can answer - or try not to - Stahl is placing a careful had on Chrom's shoulder. 'Try not to ask him that, Milord. He can't help himself right now and if he goes to such extremes, he obviously doesn't want to talk about it.'

Chrom near bites his tongue off. Right. Right. Still, he can't help but feel somewhat uneasy with the sadly knowing glint in Stahl's eyes. Instead, Chrom quietly exhales - thinks he'll be doing a lot of that, and tries to shift just a bit. 'Could you help us up?'

Stahl nods, offering a hand which Chrom clasps onto after securing his other arm around Robin's waist. Stahl hefts them both up, though his muscles still strain and his wounds pull as he gets to his feet. The green knight waits a moment to ensure that they are steady before he steps away without prompting.

'Alright?' Chrom whispers to Robin who nods silently.

'Let's get the pair of you back to camp, hm?' Stahl suggests as he steps back around to Robin's opposite side, almost clumsily balancing his lance onto his shoulder. From what Chrom understood, Stahl had always been more deft with a sword before Robin had encouraged the knight to expand his skill set.

'Yes,' Chrom agrees as he slowly begins walking, careful not to rush Robin. 'Robin?' he hedges while his stomach knots. 'I'm - sorry, if I made you uncomfortable.'

His tactician takes a deep breath. 'You've nothing to apologise for,' he denies. '…can't we - can we…' he gestures with his free arm as he keeps his head down and eyes adverted.

Robin doesn't have to finish, they've already done this. 'Yes, right.' Chrom swallows thickly. 'Will… I will speak to Flavia later about matching to Ferox.'

The change in subject was silently asked for and although Robin's expression is inscrutable, there's relief in how he breathes out. 'We'll need to send a messenger to Ylisse to appease the Council.'

'Do you have anyone in mind?' Chrom asks.

'Sumia, I think,' Robin suggests without too much of a pause. He'd already known who would be best for the job when he'd brought this up, Robin's mind just seemed to work like that.

'Are we not heading home?' Stahl cuts in quietly.

The bruises underneath Stahl's eyes are suddenly more noticeable when Chrom looks over to him. 'Our first course is to journey to Ferox,' Chrom confirms slowly because he knew how long his men had been travelling and they were probably all desperate to get home; to see their families.

Stahl blinks but his smile remains stretched across his lips. 'I see, are we just escorting the Feroxians back to the Border Pass?'

Chrom appreciates the questions, he likes that the people under him feel comfortable enough to ask things of him. It means that Chrom is doing something right but Robin never feels that same ease. The tactician will stand his ground, will explain his decisions or his strategies however, Robin's confidence seems to be more facade than fact.

'It would be correct to say that they would be escorting us,' Robin admits as his teeth briefly worry his bottom lip. 'If we went back by ourselves it would mean separating from over half our forces and crossing by the Plegia Castle in order to reach the Border Pass to arrive at Ylisstol. In our condition if we were to get surrounded by Risen or bandits…'

'That's why we'll be travelling the long way around,' Chrom comments when Robin trails off. Robin for all he seemed tentative about boundaries, and never seemed to realise that he had been alleviated from just a Shepherd to Chrom's second in command. If anything happened to Chrom, Robin had the authority to take over.

'Ah, that would be a problem,' Stahl concedes easily enough before addressing Robin with a deep fondness born of battles won and lost together, blood shred and taken together and faith in each other's convictions and abilities. 'It's good that we have you to look out for us, huh?'

Chrom took no small amount of joy to see the Shepherds grow closer with Robin; to watch as Robin acclimatised to them and how they in turn adopted him as one of their own despite convention saying that it never should have worked. Their relationships had past what spectators might've thought possible when Chrom had first brought Robin home with him.

Chrom was never so relieved to have ignored Frederick's suspicions. Finding an unconscious man in a robe of purple, black and gold with Grima's eyes on the sleeves were unsettling and he hadn't needed Frederick's warning to identify the possible danger; though Chrom tried never to be prejudice, they had few friends in Plegia and some vigilance was better than none.

He had promised himself and in fewer thoughts, his sister - that he'd never act on such a thing without cause. Tanned skin from hot climates and white hair, like the sunbeams from the sun or the settlement of snowfall was not enough. Eyes bright bright like rubies; that his mother's midwife had shared was not enough.

(It never had been. The war his father had raged - the number of people that had died…)

Robin's discomfort is clear as he never seems to know what to do with affection. 'We need to gather our strength.' The words are perhaps a bit mulish as Robin keeps his eyes turned away from both of them, while avoiding the sight of his leg. 'If Khan Flavia will allow it, we should plan to recuperate for a few days.'

Chrom nods though he wishes to get back to Ylisse as soon as possible, Robin is right in that rushing this wouldn't do them any favours and wasn't worth the risk. 'I'll make sure to speak with them.'

A ripple of uncertainty tightens Robin's shoulders are his lips purse. 'Only if you agree, Chrom. If you don't -'

'Robin, I agree with you,' Chrom interrupts in bafflement. 'Why the debate? It's obvious a smarter idea. I doubt Flavia or Basilio will mind. Besides, out of the two of us I much rather rely on you for this than myself, you and that big brain of yours.'

'I just - don't want people to think that I am manipulating you,' Robin admits before it seems to sink in just what he has said and his skin pales.

Chrom's stomach drops further. 'What?' he asks for clarification though he worries he already knows where this is going. Robin does not answer him, in fact he seems to curl into himself a bit more. 'Robin?'

'Sire,' Stahl coughs with unease. 'There've been some…whispers amongst some of the soldiers. Not the Shepherds! Everyone of ours accepts Robin - of course - but others…question him, and his position, in regards to you, Milord.'

Something in Chrom stills in a sickly, sinking feeling as fire starts to burn and outrage whispers its place into his heart. Chrom could admit that he was not an academic but he wasn't ignorant either. He knew what that would mean. 'Who - for how long? he bites out from the iron on his tongue and the sand in his teeth.

Stahl grimaces. 'Since his - his introduction,'the knight reveals with his own set of grievances, it seems as his brow gets heavier. 'There've been some debate about whether or not he was a spy…'

Chrom can hear the among other things even if Stahl doesn't say it. 'From what evidence?' Robin had never once wavered in his loyalty. He'd never once done anything to even hint -

Stahl's hand clenches around his lance but he is restrained as Chrom is because Robin is right there, wishing he weren't, and Chrom could be insensitive but there was a line. 'Many saw his brand before you gifted him his gauntlets,' Stahl says bleakly, apologetically.

Chrom might as well have swallowed ash. Chrom had known that Robin's brand had been of some significance and yes, he'd gifted Robin his gauntlets while Lissa had gotten the gloves in an effort to try and outdo him but it hadn't had anything to do with shame or vanity. It was to avoid that type of baseless insinuations. Robin's heritage was already apparent enough and caused enough controversy and although Chrom refused to acknowledge it, that didn't mean that he didn't want to know there was an issue.

Their relations with Plegia hadn't always been so poor and although they hadn't always gotten on, their were times of great friendship that Emm had attempted to remind people of. That they worshiped a different deity; that they were marked differently, shouldn't be a point of contention that it had become.

Chrom didn't need to say any of this, Stahl seemed to understand. 'I don't understand it either, Milord.' Stahl shakes his head and further messes his hair as it settles into an even more disordered heap of cowlicks.

'Please,' Robin murmurs finally and he sounds weary, defeated. Chrom hates it. 'It doesn't matter. I can't - say it's ideal but it is what it is. What they think of you is more concerning.'

Touched but offended properly covered the feelings that sentence bought about. 'I can't do much about it at the minute,' Chrom admits as he can tell Robin just wants him to let it go. 'But once we return to Ylisse -'

'Chrom -'

'It's going to be addressed,' he ploughs over any protests. Chrom wouldn't have it. He just - wouldn't. 'After all, you're going to be inducted into the court.' They hadn't spoken on the future in finalities, everything had just seemed too far away to risk it all to fate. Rather, they had talked in whispers on things they needed to do, things they'd plan to achieve.

Stahl cooed as Robin floundered. 'Does that mean I'll have to call him "Lord Robin"?' The knight grins a tad impishly, teasingly as he blinks at their tactician.

Chrom grins albeit weakly but Robin is already shaking his head. 'Don't you dare,' he says with a edge that was a bit too sharp between friends. Robin seems to realise too, as he softens, embarrassed as he glances between Chrom and Stahl shortly. 'I'll always be Robin, to you at least if Chrom decides he wants to go through with it.'

'I don't plan on changing my mind,' Chrom confirms because he knows Robin would not deny him, the man had promised to aid him and Naga knew how much he needed the tactician. 'You did swear you'd carry me through this.'

'Sully's never going to let this go,' Stahl grins awkwardly when the tension stretches weirdly. The knight was good at coming to Chrom's aid.

Robin snorts. 'Don't play innocent, Stahl. You and Sully wouldn't have such a partnership if you weren't -' he stops, seems to realise that he has implied something deeper than he should of which brings Chrom to a drawing realisation and Stahl bright pink. 'I am sorry, Stahl.'

'Ah ha,' Stahl laughs as Robin tries to tear his lip in two. 'Not - not to worry…Lord Robin.'

Robin's head snaps up and very slowly, as if the words just sunk in, he turn a dark rogue. Breath hitches in the tactician's throat before he breathes out in a truly exasperated fashion. 'You two deserve each other.'

'Thank you, Milord.' Stahl winks cheekily as Robin groans.

Chrom muffles a laugh as he adjusts his hold on Robin and they continue back to camp, feeling affection for his men raise and knowing that he was trull fortunate for those who'd decided to follow him.

Con/textual Vomit: Soooo...confession time. This chapter has been done for months and I completely forgot to update here. I'm sorry? ^^"...

(Originally uploaded: 27/04/2017) (Updated: 18/02/2018)

OZ