Hoshidan Field Hospital - Two weeks before Queen Mikoto's Assassination, Early Morning
"And what do you make of this one?"
"A farmer. Look at his tan and his skin. Missing his right arm, never to work a field again."
"With proper care, he can return to his home. At the very least, we can let him live out his remaining days in peace with his family."
"He was a farmer, Lady Mikoto. He doesn't know where he is, and I'll be honest, I'm not sure I can heal what's left of his shoulder. And if I can't, neither can our healers. This isn't some trained soldier with the willpower to overcome injury. This is just a farmer. He won't know what to do when he comes to."
Orochi and Reina were well within the large tent, gazing at the rows upon rows of wounded Hoshidans within. It was a pitiful place; the smell within foul and the atmosphere acrid with death and despair. No more than half of the patients could even comprehend their surroundings, let alone their pain.
"These monsters... these Faceless. My barrier used to stop the soldiers of Nohr before, what is so different now?" Mikoto mused, scratching her chin thoughtfully and not letting the acidic air around her cloud her thoughts. "I cannot quell their base desire to harm."
"Milady, your powers have only worked on men and mount. These Faceless... I fear they were made to breach your barrier specifically," Orochi guessed, not liking the sound of that report. "It's been like this for a while, I fear."
"So they are... soulless? The more I try to repel them, the more they find ways to break through. We must find a way to stem this plague. Hoshido does not have the luxury of time nor life," she droned, her tone less hopeful than anyone would expect.
"Leave it to the Nohrian filth to imbue power to a beast instead of their own men," Orochi replied, wiping her eyes and trying in vain to get rid of that stinging sensation behind them. "We have no choice but to cut down the Faceless as they come across. That means stationing more soldiers to the border and telling our villagers to abandon the towns in risk."
"And that's going to make more of... these," Reina added, gesturing to the tent. "We have many soldiers and resources, but not enough for another year of this."
Mikoto let out a breath, the air whistling from her tight lips with the energy of a defeated sigh. Her eyes closed for a moment, her mind working and hoping to come up with a plan to further protect her countrymen. The pacifism barrier already took a great deal of energy out of her and maintaining it every day was a tedious process that drained both energy and focus from her. Now with reports of these new 'Faceless' in the mix, she feared her intellect would sooner diminish.
Walking up to the nearest unconscious man, she placed a hand on his chest and felt the pulse of an unconscious heartbeat beneath. His body twitched, a shiver running from his bandaged head all the way down to his remaining leg. A moan was let out, more akin to one close to death than one that was merely in pain.
"My lady?"
"Can you wake him up?" Mikoto asked, leaving Orochi at a loss.
"I'm not sure that's a good idea," she replied, shaking her head vigorously. "He will wake up scared, in great pain. He is near death, to jolt him awake would invite disaster."
The Queen of Hoshido pursed her lips, running a kind hand along the man's cheek, caressing that which was bruised and bloody.
"Look at his face, Orochi. His dreams are clouded by great pain. He... yearns for the touch of his wife, never to feel her warm hand again. He wants to taste his daughter's cooking, but she too will never... ah!"
Mikoto stumbled, tears falling from her eyes as her involuntary empathy nearly overcame her senses. Reina quickly supported her, yanking her Queen's hand away from the comatose man and leading them back towards herself.
"Steady, steady… My Queen, you mustn't place the burdens of each of your countrymen upon yourself." Mikoto would have none of it, instead trying to force her way back against the clearly stronger woman.
"Her name was Mozu," Mikoto stammered, unable to stem the invading thoughts that weren't her own. "Little Mozu."
"My lady, please-"
"Make his suffering stop," Mikoto pleaded, reaching ever towards the man's face. "Let him wake. Let him see the light around him. Let me talk to him."
"I will not," Orochi said with a shake of her head. "He has suffered enough."
"Please-"
"Then let him sleep," Reina suggested, holding back Mikoto, pointing to Orochi. "Can you bring him deeper into his dream? Block out his pain. Let him remember that what comforts him."
"His dream..." Orochi muttered, kneeling beside the fallen man and placing both hands on his head.
"His home," Mikoto started, not making a motion. "Let him dream of home."
The diviner nodded, her conviction set on her actions. Yes, let the man's last thoughts be happy. Peaceful. She could do that.
"Remember," Orochi breathed. "Remember."
At first, nothing really happened aside from the man's eyes fluttering and flickering open and shut. There was movement in his body- the labored breaths of one trying to stay awake… or stay asleep.
"Mozu..." the man whispered, his eyes still but his heart beating faster.
"Yes," Orochi assured. "Mozu. She's here with you."
"No... She's out harvesting the grain with... her mother..."
"They'll be back soon," Orochi whispered, losing her grip. This man wasn't as close to death as she thought. He fought still, despite his broken body. He wanted to see his daughter again.
The man's eyes opened up in a stir, the rest of his body violent in uncontrollable spasms. Orochi flew backwards, her hands numb and icy from the rejected connection. Clambering across the floor gracelessly, she forced herself back onto the man in attempts to calm him down.
"M-monsters attacking! Sound the alarms!" he screamed, to no one and everyone at once. His sight disconnected from his thoughts, the man could only see the hulking masses of the Faceless bearing down on him.
"Let go!" Reina shouted, too late. The man was in a state of shock, swinging his arms as if they were still clutched to the weapon that he had fallen with.
"What are they… M-mozu! Run!" he shouted, slashing the terror in his dreams with a sickle. That's when his leg would get bit off, and the cry of agony that came after curdled everyone's blood.
His breathing grew faster yet, his eyes clouding and his mind reenacting what it was like to go into pure shock.
"What did he... What did you show him?!" Mikoto asked, terrified.
"I tried to let him remember- Damnit!" Orochi yelled, cursing loudly and grinding her teeth in frustration and guilt. Reina swiftly brought her dagger to the man's heart, piercing it cleanly and twisting it until the farmer's body had exhausted the last of its energy. Extracting the blade, she cleaned it unceremoniously and walked over to the prone Orochi, wracked with tears.
With nothing left to sustain his nightmares, the man simply died, an expression of horror etched on his face like a stone carving, as if nothing else could have been there.
The man remembered indeed. His last thoughts- the sight he had died to? Those of his wife being torn apart before his eyes, his daughter inevitably close behind.
At first, the spell was a failure. More than once did a fallen Hoshidan thrash about in their bed, their last thoughts of Faceless tearing their loved ones or themselves apart as they were powerless to assist. They would open their eyes in terror, the life already drained out of them. And their last thoughts were those of death, not life. Mikoto would have stopped Orochi, if not for the spellcaster's plea to redeem herself and restore her countrymen's minds.
Orochi hadn't slept in three days, determined to fix that. Reina had just finished burying the fifth Hoshidan of the week. Mikoto lay asleep on a spare cot, exhausted and hopeless. She needed to restore her energy, or else the rest of Nohr's soldiers would be soon behind the Faceless. Ignoring her and Reina for now, Orochi sat down silently next to a cot farther away than her two companions. Her next patient was not a soldier but a villager. A farmer's wife, or more accurately a farmer herself, judging by her hands. They were rough and knotted, a proud tool for the farmer that owned them. Not for much longer, not with the bone in her legs turned to powder, crushed under the weight of an army of beasts.
"Dream," Orochi whispered, placing her lips gently atop a fallen farmer's forehead. "Home is so far away, and we must return before nightfall." She brushed the hair aside, discovering a deep cut running right above her eyes, marring what could have been a beautiful face that would age gracefully for the rest of many peaceful days. There weren't many of those anymore. Neither beauty nor peace seemed very prominent nowadays.
Once more, the woman's eyes opened, but instead of violently thrashing around, they appeared cloudy, as if not truly seeing the world outside.
"Mozu..."
"I'm here for you," Orochi mimicked, matching the young farm girl that she pictured in her mind. Despite never meeting her, she wasn't surprised that both of her parents were here. Another Nohrian product. Another Hoshidan orphan.
"We... we must return before nightfall," the woman murmured, closing her eyes again. Orochi watched carefully over the woman's legs. No motion. No shock.
"Of course," Orochi whispered. "Can I follow you?"
"No," the woman sighed. "We must run."
Orochi froze, not sure what was happening. Was she recounting her death too? Why was she calm, then?
"We can run," Mozu answered, not wanting to disagree with her dreaming mother.
"Do you see that girl, with the white hair," her mother replied, so calm, so serene. "And her friends atop the horses... Can you see them?"
"Yes, Mother, I can."
"You must run to them. They will save... they... Ah!"
Mozu's mother almost thrashed, but instantly returned to normal. Her breathing was labored, but instantly showed signs of slowing down.
"I'll run to them mother," Orochi mimicked, almost adding a 'what about you?' but stopped herself short, knowing that would invite only terror.
"Y-yes Mozu," the mother labored. "Run... don't look back. I can..."
"You can what, mother?" Mozu replied, hesitant. Orochi's hands quivered, trying to send her healing magic as much as she possibly could without crushing the skull with her fingertips.
The woman lay there motionless for a good while. Almost as if she had fallen asleep mid-dream, stirring from a nap. Lazily, she yawned a tired yawn, not a sense of fear in her composure. The conversation continued, but with speech slurred and motions much more drowsy.
"Mother?" little Mozu asked timidly.
"I can... ah. I'm almost done boiling our rice. Will you... will you call your father?"
Orochi's eyes widened. Progress? It almost sounded like Mozu's mother was dreaming.
"Of course," Mozu answered.
"And tomorrow, why don't the three of us head... to the market? I'll get you those... sesame balls you enjoy."
With each word, Mozu's mother slurred deeper and deeper into her slumber. Gone were the whimpered moans of an injured farmer on her deathbed. Now, a doting mother lay on her back, snoring lightly in anticipation of tomorrow's market adventure.
Orochi slowly removed her hands from Mozu's mother's head, eyes wide and not quite believing what she had just accomplished. Reina noticed this too, eyeing the peaceful woman whose breathing had gotten slower and slower.
"Is she..."
"Close? Yes," Orochi whispered with a tired but successful smile. "She's almost home. And we have a clue on who sent those Faceless. A Nohrian with white hair. Mozu was rescued by them."
Day 234, Nightfall
"What, Chrom couldn't have beaten Lucina on his own?"
Morgan, Kana, Robin and Corrin all lay in two cots adjacent to each other in some twisted grown-up version of bedtime story telling. Whatever apprehension Kana had for his sister had diminished after a few reassuring hugs, and the future family was happily bunched together listening to Robin's tale of a Feroxian duel, two years ago.
Only the fun parts, as cruelly dictated by Morgan. Robin loved going into the details and frankly, his interrogators did not like that so much.
"I'm not quite sure. I remember that Chrom was very hesitant at first. 'Marth' had Falchion, after all," Robin offered. Corrin nodded in agreement, imagining the headstrong Exalt meet his wit's end not by a stronger foe, but a stranger one. She could hear the roar of the crowd, the dust spinning around her feet, almost as if she was in that arena too. Chrom would charge against the hero disowned by time on sands she had never seen nor felt before except in her boyfriend's account. She always had an active imagination. The Northern Fortress had plenty of books and a severe lack of pictures.
"And he found himself outmatched? Ha!" Morgan giggled, imagining it too. "Wait, are you sure that's how it went? Chrom's pretty strong, way more than Luci. You sure you're not just... making it up? Why would he ever need your help to beat her up? I'm sure you added that part to sound more heroic. Not that you're not."
"I'd never!" Robin fumed. "This is honest-to-history recounting. I'm a primary source," he added with a wry smile. "Prince Chrom needed the Tactician Robin's help: that's how legend goes. Any Feroxi worth their salt'll tell you that."
"Mm, no. Not buying it," Kana said in an angry-cute way.
"I mean, you're plenty strong, Father. But Chrom? He could've taken Luci down easy, without your help," Morgan challenged, backing up Kana. "You're writing yourself into history."
"Traitors, the lot of you," Robin mused, gazing longingly to Corrin for backup. "Doesn't anyone believe me? What about my dearest co-commander?"
Corrin wrinkled her nose as if she just bit a lemon, not for a moment letting Robin have his self-proclaimed victory.
"Oh don't look at me like that. I'm just here for a good story, dressed up it may be," she teased. "If only there was something here that was an actual account of the Plegian War? Like a journal perhaps. If, and a big if at that, if I fought in the Plegian war and had a mysterious future-swordsman gift me a journal... Ooh, I can imagine mine now, bound in leather and mystery, confined to a shelf in my office. If I had one, I would keep it under a magical seal, so that no one-"
"Luci said you had one!" Kana blurted while pointing at Robin's shelf. There, bound in fine leather the accused sat, facing the pale-haired jury, with all but one eyeing for its contents hungrily.
"She told you, huh," Robin asked with a slow realization. "You two've been talking a bit now, haven't you?"
Kana immediately blushed, shaking his head. "Definitely not. Forget I said anything. She just said, 'I gave Robin a journal so that he could recount his memories, just in case he ever felt sad that he couldn't remember anything else!'"
The imitation of course was lacking in timbre and pitch, but it was quite enough to bring a smile to the other three in the tent. Corrin and Robin would have melted if not for Morgan's insistence to retrieve the journal.
"Get up, Father! If you won't do it, I will!"
"Ah, the ploy to divulge your father's secrets," Robin acknowledged with a wistful nod. "An excellent gambit, Morgan: You used Kana's talents excellently where your own wouldn't have sufficed." Rising with a groan to his sore back, the tactician ran an idle hand along his shelf before stopping at the treasured journal. Oh, if Lissa had thrown this one in the lake, she would have been incinerated. Lucina would have helped dispose of the body too…
Whoa. That was rather devious. The Princess was rubbing off on him.
"Why- hey! I'm plenty convincing! I just can't imitate Luci's stern voice. You can't do any better, Kana."
Morgan started speaking imitations, lowering her voice in a very artificial and forced way. This maneuver succeeded in nothing but making Corrin and Kana cringe as Robin dispelled the simple seal keeping his treasured book in its closed state. He looked at his family and then back to his writing. The smile that crept to his face told it all.
"Now you'll have to pardon my… writing. This may be a little more personal than I'm willing to share, but you asked nicely. And well, it makes a good story," Robin added, smiling as he plopped the book on Corrin's lap as he snuggled up next to her.
"Papa, stop staring, start reading!"
"Oh? Oh, yeah. Sorry." Robin cleared his head, shaking it briefly before settling in on top of Corrin's arm who wasted no time to burrow into him like some manner of shrew.
Clearing his throat, the tactician briefly made a rapid series of mental addenda to his otherwise life-like portrayal of the duel between father and future-daughter.
"At the moment, I was engaged in combat alongside Sumia against two Feroxi gladiators. Out of the corners of my sight, I could see Chrom face off against Marth in single combat, both Falchions mirroring each other's movements. Soft-spoken dialogue, and then a clash of blades. Dispatching the rest of our foes with relative haste, Sumia and I quickly joined up with our leader. With a wave, Chrom signaled us off as he engaged Marth alone. With the roar of battle dying down to just two fighters, I could clearly make out their dialogue now.
'Who taught you how to fight?' He asks, if I recall properly.
'My Father,' comes Marth's response, sharp as his blade ever poised to strike. He leaped into the air with incredible height and speed, careening so fast that he appeared as a blur of blue and silver. Miraculously, Chrom dodged that blow and ducked under Marth's arm, knocking him down with a kick followed by a low slash to his back with the flat of his blade. It would have ended right there, but Marth was too fast to be felled by two rough blows and attacked Chrom again, this time with an attack to his left side, opposite his blade. Anticipating Chrom's jump as he swept his legs, Marth lunged upwards, smashing Chrom's gut with his shoulder and knocking both of them down, pausing the fight as they lay gasping for air.
Of course, as most dramatic fights must be, more dialogue.
Now pretend of course, that what I'm stuttering is from lack of breath. I had to write it in," Robin excused, briefly pausing the story. "Pretend I'm out of breath."
"What? Oh, you're trying to... Okay," Morgan realized, apologizing quickly as Robin continued.
"You are my sister's savior. Must this end with me striking you down?"
"Who said anything about that?" came Marth's challenge. "We are two swordsmen fighting for the future of Ferox. And as I see it, I can lay you on the ground just as easily."
"I don't doubt it," Chrom laughs, "Very well, are you ready to finish this?"
"I am." Marth warns ominously, before lunging at an off-guard Chrom with blade outstretched.
From my angle, it looked like Chrom was done for, seeing as he had less than a blink to react and another blink to counter Marth. All the instinct and training couldn't have helped him at that point, not before she punished his horrid counter with a decisive blow that would have ended our story right then and there.
So naturally, I intervened and toasted Marth to a crisp with a fire spell and that was that."
"You toasted Luci!" Kana mimicked with a giggle, joined quickly by Morgan. How very sadistic of them.
"Oh, I can definitely see that happening. How very tactical of you to tip a fair fight," Corrin mused. Her smile was radiant as always and Robin felt his heartbeat stutter just looking at it. He stared a little too long as the two children's groans quickly let him know.
"And then what happened?" Morgan asked impatiently, urging the plot forward.
"Oh? Well, uh..."
"We wanted to believe Marth threw the match. Perhaps in hindsight, Lucina did not believe that Chrom could beat Lon'qu. Maybe she was right. In her hands, Chrom's victory would be assured. We wouldn't see her again until Emmeryn's..."
Robin trailed off, his eyes drawing a blank. Morgan and Kana looked at each other, not knowing if this was one of their father's theatrics.
"Emmeryn's what? What-"
"I think that's enough," Corrin quickly interjected, closing the journal. Robin snapped out of it, nodding quickly.
"Y-yeah. I think that's enough for tonight. Sorry. I... got lost."
"Uh-huh," Kana groaned. "Well, I'm tired... I guess. Good night, Papa. Good night, Mama."
"I suppose we could get our sleep now," Morgan agreed reluctantly. "Good night, Mother, Father."
With the cots apart once more, Corrin and Robin stared at the ceiling together, fingers intertwined underneath the blanket.
"You did your best," Corrin assured, craning her neck to rest on Robin's chest. "You did all you could."
"Chrom told you?"
"Lissa."
"...The best is never enough when it matters."
"Now don't get like that right now. They need both of us."
"I could use a walk."
"Are we going to talk about it?"
"Can you handle my ramblings?"
"Of course."
The two commanders silently rose from their position, Corrin quickly wrapping Robin's cloak around herself. Robin kissed the two dragons on their foreheads, smiling when he saw Morgan's expression from the gesture.
"Get to sleep Morgan. We'll be right back."
"Of course, Father. Good night."
"...I wanted to close my eyes," Robin explained, his feet not on Steiger's ramparts but instead on a Plegian dune. "I wanted to will a miracle into existence but... It wasn't my time to conjure miracles. Not for another two years."
Corrin nodded, responding only with a squeeze of her hand. The cold stones felt familiar on her bare feet as she silently took each step, keeping careful cadence with her partner as they strolled around the camp. The Feroxian army occupied most of Steiger, with the Joint Shepherds taking over the command center. The Shepherds would march ahead tomorrow on the long trek towards the Mila Tree. The Feroxian Army would peel east towards ocean the following day, hoping to draw Walhart and the Valmese cavalry away with their numbers while the Shepherds rescued Tiki.
It was a good plan, Corrin assured.
"Every great man needs his failure," she said softly. "If you didn't fail then, you could've failed here. All of us, we wouldn't all be here if you did not learn that lesson."
"Well- You're right, as much as I would prefer you not to be," Robin admitted. "I would prefer my failures to be... less severe. I see Emmeryn's face in my head and I just freeze. My mind replays that one moment over and over and... well, you saw. I can't even get through story time with the kids."
"Ylisse is at peace. Isn't that what she wanted?" Corrin asked with a slight change of subject.
"Corrin, we're an ocean away fighting the very people who want Ylisse aflame. I wouldn't say we're at peace."
"But her people are safe, aren't they? Isn't that the job of the Shepherds? To fight their fight?"
"Right again. You know, you could-"
There were footsteps behind them, causing the couple to turn and find Lucina standing there awkwardly.
"...Commanders," she greeted after a pause, nodding afterwards.
"Oh, we must be in your way," Corrin realized, still leading Robin by the hand as they narrowed their profile on the rampart. Lucina passed by without a word, continuing her patrol. A sigh. Could've been the wind, actually.
They stood there motionless once more, with nothing but the cold Valmese wind providing any commentary. Eventually, the dark blue figure faded into the shadows as she rounded the corners of the vast fortress.
"I could what?" Corrin continued, not regarding the Ylissean who had passed them.
"She looked upset," Robin mused, ignoring Corrin for a moment.
"She must still loathe you after you ruined her fight with her father," Corrin joked, prompting a light smile from Robin.
"You could handle story time next time," Robin added, finishing his train of thought. "I don't even know that much about you. You can make it up even and-"
"I wouldn't lie," Corrin huffed, but her eyes turned somber and her grip loosened a little. "It just wasn't an adventure worth telling."
She looked up, meeting amber with maroon. The grip tightened, renewed.
"Not until I met you."
Lucina walked aimlessly around Steiger, her footstep count long lost after the distraction a couple minutes ago.
Of course they were holding hands.
She shook the thought from her head. She came here to save Ylisse, to save her Father. To change fate and... save Robin? No, not that last part. That wasn't a necessity.
The completely accidental crush she had developed on the younger version of her childhood guardian was completely... wrong. The Robin she knew in her world was the kind soul with a dark past, watching his friends die a thousand miles away while he stood helpless in Ylisstol. She remembered him, gazing over the ramparts just as she did now, wondering what struggles Chrom and the Shepherds had to endure without his guidance.
How many of the children under his care would be orphaned?
And here Robin was now, just older than her (he didn't even know his own age but he looked it) and the same kind spirit that she had trusted must have existed long before Lucina did. The Robin she knew and the Robin she was commanded by were one and the same.
What would his hands feel like intertwined with hers?
Oh gods.
"Naga, grant me the strength I need to see my mission through," Lucina prayed, clenching her hands in the cold. It's not like Commander Corrin was unappealing, either. Corrin was kind, warm, everything that Robin was too. She was another pea from the tactical pod it seemed like, even with her odd habits that far eclipsed her boyfriend's. They, loathe as she was to admit, were happy and fit well together. What could Lucina have even done if she were in her shoes. Or lack of,
"These damn thoughts. Whims of a girl," she muttered.
Whims of a stupid immature girl.
She leaned her hands on the terrace facing outward, letting the wind run through her hair and neck. Her eyes were well accustomed to the dark this late into her patrol, but the vastness of Steiger led her struggling to find the two white dots of the commanders. Perhaps they were on their way to their tent, Lucina reasoned.
Her patrol continued, oblivious to the sorcerer who had just faded past her periphery.
"I rescued Mozu from Nohrian conjurations before going to Shirasagi. I was with Kaze. And another woman named Rinkah. They were the two prisoners."
"From Krakenburg?"
"Yeah. The ones Leo spared. I found them after I lost... Gunter. Oh."
Robin didn't look at Corrin but he could still feel her clenching her teeth. He had to remind himself that he had found her not more than a month after she had left the only place she had ever known.
"...What was he like?" Robin asked, trying to lighten the tension.
"Strict. Frederick plus a couple hundred years. But there was a kindness in some of his actions. He wasn't as cold as the fortress, that's for sure."
"I'm sorry."
"Me too. If I ever find Hans again, I'll throw him off a bridge and make sure he lands shiny-head first."
Something in Corrin's eyes flickered, and for the first time in a long time, Robin saw anger. An emotion that wasn't even present in Old Ylisse.
"Back to Kaze and Rinkah. That's when you met Mozu?"
"Yeah. She was the lone survivor of an attack," Corrin explained as the two continued their impromptu patrol. "She was a Hoshidan farmer, orphaned by the country I called home. It opened my eyes to the war between the two countries. It's horrible enough that good men have to fight bitter battles against other good men... but bad men would avoid their own harm and still seek victory? That's a gateway to evil deeds."
"There are good deeds and bad deeds in war," Robin agreed. "And bad wars making monsters of good men."
"The Faceless are beasts without soul and without instinct. Just an order to kill Hoshidans. I despise it. Nohr prided itself on fighting great battles and riding until the dusk falls behind their banners... and then the Faceless came along, puppets to honorless mages. I lost a lot of pride in Nohr that day. Who knows how long it has been going on? Mindless husks making mincemeat of Hoshidan civilians."
"Like Risen?"
"Like Risen. Just taller. And uglier."
"Hmm," Robin hummed, drowsiness catching up to him. Corrin noticed too, letting a yawn out instead of saying anything.
"Time for bed?"
"Time for bed."
"We marched quite a bit. Stairs are way over there," Robin pointed. Lo and behold, they had nearly traversed halfway across Steiger. It was a long road back. A long, cold road back.
"Lead the way," Corrin ordered with a smile.
They walked silently for a while, Robin catching a faint glimpse of Lucina in the distance. Would they encounter each other again by the time he and Corrin would get to the stairs? They would probably ask how she was feeling. Yes, that would be in order. She looked unwell.
"Something on your mind?" Corrin asked.
Robin shook off the thoughts, deciding to ask instead for more of Corrin's story. At least the month before she met him.
"I recall Azura saying you pack quite a punch," Robin replied, a memory catching up with him from when they first met. "I assumed, well, since you met her before meeting me..."
"Oh, that," Corrin winced. "Yeah that's... no."
Mikoto, impaled by dark spikes. Ganglari's dark spikes. Her Ganglari's dark spikes.
She shook her head rapidly: a shiver to stave off the cold. Were Robin not the perceptive tactician that he was, it might as well have been.
"Sorry. I'm not good at piecing it together. Sorry for asking." Robin excused himself, cursing himself mentally.
"It wasn't a bad question. Just one I'm not ready to answer. It's... too soon."
"I'm still sorry," Robin repeated, sincerity in his voice.
"I'll tell you a little on the march tomorrow. Deal?"
"Only the fun parts," Robin replied, eyes shining with an assuring look.
The two entered the watchtower, Corrin following Robin as they approached the doorway to the stairs that would take them back to the ground. Robin lit up a torch with a quick show of magic, enjoying the heat as well.
"I heard they're making Chon'sin-style eggs tomorrow. Should be an interesting breakfast," Robin announced, his voice echoing off the cold stones. He kept the door open, letting the princess in before he put the torch back into the sconce.
With both hands occupied, he couldn't have possibly defended himself from a blast of dark magic, and that dark wave smashed his head against the wall and knocked him out cold. That panic caused his magic to flicker, illuminating Robin's attacker.
"I-Iago?!" Corrin screamed, drawing- Yato was still in her tent.
Corrin came to with a terrible headache, deciding very quickly to shut her eyes. As lovely as the sky was, the sun was another thing entirely. And her eyes happened to be looking right into it.
Footsteps. Three sets of them. She opened her eyes, still adjusting to silhouettes and-
"Chrom, we have to do something."
"What do you propose we do?"
