Birds chirping, leaves rustling, but it was the scent of grass that woke him.
Sweat slicked his skin all the way down to his toes. He was in a bed and immobilized under a mountain of blankets.
He glanced out the window and realized it must be morning time, because he could the see the sun buoyed on the horizon, its light refracting off the dew drops that clung to the grass. The room was small but the walls were warm. Shuttering his eyes, he tried to collect his missing memories.
"This is not you...your fault. Promise me you'll escape from this place. Please go."
The voice hit him like a hammerblow.
No! Chrom! The Dragon's Table! Validar!
He killed him! Is that it? Or was it a bad dream? Did he truly slay the prince of Ylisse?
Before he could think any further, a female figure entered the room. She's was carrying a wooden bucket, and he could hear water sloshing from side to side. As she walked towards him, a shaft of light threw her face into sharp relief, and his heart began to race.
A streak of blonde hair landed across her forehead, riding the draft seeping through the open door behind her. Skin alabaster, eyes emerald. Though he'd lost most of his memories, he could never forget the face of his wife
"L-Lissa?" he said dumbly, surprised he could make a sound at all.
She halted in her tracks. The bucket hit the floor like a bomb, splashing water all over the room. She covers her mouth with both hands and begins to quiver.
"Robin," she gasped, "you're awake. Oh goddess!"
She leapt on top of him and hugged him tight. Her head burrowed into his chest, her tears soaked into his shirt. He took her by the arms and held her square with his shoulders. Her cheeks were red and glistening with moisture.
"Lissa," he said, "that was me. That was me, wasn't it?"
She didn't respond, but he detected the near imperceptible nod that her chin betrayed.
He slumped back lifeless against the headboard. He also began to cry, spirit crushed by the full gravity of his crime. He half expected her to draw a blade and end his sorry life right then and there. He wouldn't blame her for that. Instead, she dabbed his eyes with her sleeve and thawed her expression into a tender smile that looked strange with the rivulets gushing from her eyes.
She explained everything to him. What happened at the Dragon's Table, how Grima possessed him, and how he killed her brother. She kept repeating that it wasn't his fault; that he was merely the Fell Dragon's vessel, and that he didn't merit her blame. That he didn't merit her brother's blame. Anyone's blame, especially his own.
He said nothing. By the time she finished, the sun had crested.
…
…
…
Robin spent the next several weeks convalescing. Lissa fed, changed, and bathed him every day, and every day he fell deeper and deeper into affection for her. She understood her duty as a keeper but also talked to him as a friend and kissed him as a lover. She was not embarrassed to sleep beside him in the nude, and Robin felt little reservation in embracing her throughout the night. Her breasts were full and tender, her thighs muscular from years of battle. And they lay together in the darkness to share warmth and trade secrets.
His physical injuries healed quickly, but the damage to his heart and to his soul took longer and could not simply be bandaged with time. He tried to reconcile with his actions, but they continued to torture him in nightmares and daymares alike.
Lissa explained that after he killed Chrom, the Dragon's Table began to cave in. One by one, the columns tipped like giant dominoes and smashed the foundations of the temple. A horrific roar boomed through the chambers. In the confusion, it was Frederick who rallied the Ylisseans and led them out of certain doom. Gregor carried Robin in a superhuman effort as they fled the collapsing rooms. Alas, not all of them made it out. Virion twisted his ankle on a protrusion and was swallowed by a hail of rubble. Libra stayed back to rescue him, but he was also buried by the debris.
No sooner did they burst through the exit than did the ancient minaret completely crumble to dust, providing a final sepulcher for three fallen souls.
Though Lissa had now lost both of her siblings, she was not without family. Sumia, the widow of her fallen brother, often stopped by to exchange gossip and goodies with her. She lived with her two daughters, Cynthia and Lucina, and read to them tales of nobility and heroism each night before they slept.
"We'll visit them when you're better," said Lissa. "We'll bring tulips. They love tulips."
"But why?" asked Robin. "Why do this? Why let me get close to your family? I'm the reason why your brother died, why Virion and Libra both perished."
Lissa took his head and pressed it against her bosom and ran her fingers through his hair.
"Because it wasn't you."
"Then what about … it? Grima?"
Lissa sighed. "After the ruins, we scoured the continent. Reports came in from elsewhere that the Risen had all but vanished. No sign of the dark force anywhere. Poof. Like puff of smoke into the sky."
"Like a puff of smoke," Robin repeated.
She nodded. "We looked and looked and looked but we found nothing. Valm was quiet, Plegia was quiet. I guess you weren't the perfect vessel that Validar said you were. Maybe Grima tried to synchronize itself with your body but failed and faded away. That's what Frederick says."
"Maybe it went back to sleep."
"Maybe," she said. "But all we know now is that there's peace now. The specter of a specter shouldn't rule over us."
The rest of the Shepherds, Lissa told him, were able to escape and return here to Ylisstol, where serenity had returned. Many, however, headed elsewhere.
Anna hit the road and went back to the traveling merchant business. Last told, she was selling magic tomes for cheap by Port Ferox.
Gregor and Nowi married and moved to the east, where they had a crimson-haired manakete child named Nah.
A month passed before he could finally stand without assistance. It was the first week of August, and the annual rain festival was to be held at the town center. This occasion marked the end of the intensive planting season and welcomed the coming of the hot summers which were famous in this world. There, the townspeople would pray to Naga for rain and for a good harvest when autumn finally arrived. The town governor prepared a feast which was to commence at twilight under the burning of a pyre (as was the tradition).
Lissa wore a white yukata adorned with large, red roses patterned across the fabric. She dressed her husband in a blue-and-black yukata that was two sizes too large for him, giggling as she went. When noon had passed, Robin loaded a loaf of carrot cake that Lissa had baked the night before into a sack and dangled it over his shoulder.
Walking into town, it was Cordelia who spotted them first.
"Robin!" she shouted from across the way, "good to see you out and about."
She wore a simple red yukata that complemented her hair. A solid blue obi tied the outfit together at her waist.
"Ah, Cordelia," he said. "Good to see you coming early to the festival."
"Likewise," she said. "Frederick, come here. I found Robin!"
"Frederick's here too?"
"And looking sprier than ever."
Frederick shuffled up to them with a brown satchel in his arms. He was much nimbler without his armor.
"Robin," he said, "good to know that you've recovered."
"It's been a while, Frederick."
"So it has," he said. "I hope you can participate in the red ribbon game later tonight."
"Red ribbon game?"
"Yes. After the glorified picnic we call the feast, people can volunteer to play a sort of giant game of tag. Two sides. You get tagged, you're out. Last side standing wins. Quite a spectacle."
"Well you better grow eyes on the back of your head, then," said Robin. "Because if you're not on my team, you better say your prayers."
Frederick laughed heartily. "It's unlikely we'll both participate. Everyone wants in, not everyone gets in."
"By the way, Lissa," said Cordelia, "I have to tell you something."
"Yes?" she responded, bending in closer.
Cordelia whispered something to her, and she jumped back, hands on her mouth, a look of both shock and excitement crossing her face.
"Oh my goddess, congratulations!" she exclaimed.
"Cordelia," said Frederick, "you told her already?"
"Yes, why not? Lissa is our friend," said Cordelia. "And so is Robin. Guess what, Robin?"
"What?"
"I'm pregnant!"
"H-Huh?"
"Yeah, I'm pregnant. I think she'll be due by mid-winter. Miriel's child will finally have a friend to play with."
"You think it's a girl then?" asked Robin.
"Oh, I know it. I've been eating tons of spinach and olives. They say it'll pretty much guarantee a girl if you eat those things. And I've already got a name from her. She'll be called Sev-"
"Okay, dear, that's enough," said Frederick, taking her by the hand. "Why don't we go on ahead and pick up Olivia and Lon'qu. They're expecting us now."
"Yes, yes, I forgot about that."
The two bid farewell and quickly jogged through a side alley and out of sight. Lissa and Robin strolled in the direction of the town center, which was a row of government offices that lined an open plaza. In the center of the plaza was a fountain, and in the center of the fountain stood an alabaster statue of Naga, mouse half-open in reciting an incantation. On the other side of the plaza existed a market, many rows deep and almost a mile across. It brimmed with activity, the unlocalized sounds of laughter and jeering and haggling and bartering loud enough to echo off the fortifications that encircled the city. Adjacent to the market was an open field, many acres in area, used for grazing. This was where the festival would take place.
When they had nearly arrived, they were spotted by Maribelle.
"My, my. Fancy seeing you here, Robin," said the lady donning an ornate – almost gaudy – yukata. Bright flowers of every imaginable color stippled the pink fabric and made her entire body seem to glow.
"Hey, Maribelle," said Robin. "Where's your husband?"
"Oh, Ricken? He's a bit behind. I tasked him with carrying all the customary nourishment for the feast plus a few addition sundry items for our child."
"You mean…"
"Ah, that's right," said Maribelle, "I didn't tell you, did I? Jem is about three months along now. We're anticipating her in late February."
"You wish for a girl as well?"
"Yes, and by 'also', I assume you're referring to Cordelia?" asked Maribelle.
Robin nodded.
"I found out about her good fortune today. I'm sure you did as well. I always seem to be the first to find these things out. But anyway, yes. I'm eating as many carrots and fish eggs as I can. I'm also throwing out all the spinach and olives I have in the house, so let me know if you want any of that. Ricken can't stand them."
"Spinach and olives?" asked Lissa. "But Cordelia said she was eating those things so she can have a girl."
"Unfortunately, she's mistaken. Everyone knows that you eat spinach and olives only if you want a boy."
"Oh, I guess you're right."
"You don't have to guess, Lissa. I'm the standard reference for all things natal. Anyway, it seems that Ricken is taking a lot longer to catch up than I thought. You'll have to excuse me as I go and try to locate him."
"Sure," said Lissa, "see you at the festival."
They walked on and merged with more and more people until they arrived at the grazing field, which was now entirely filled with energetic bodies. Many of them were on pilgrimages from neighboring towns, from Ferox, even from Plegia (perhaps even one or two from Valm). The women all dressed in ornate yukatas of every color, jet black to snow white, with arrangements of flowers, birds, and other emblems of nature patterned among them. The men wore simpler garments. Some arrived in loose robes, others in tight shorts, and even few in nothing but a white rag to hide their private parts, and it was understood that these men sacrificed their share of the budget to satisfy the vanity of their wives.
The travelers flowed like a rainbow river.
All of them carried food for the feast. Sushi from the coastal towns, onigiri from the wetter parts of Ylisse, prime slices of pork and beef and chicken and fish, cornucopias filled with strawberries, grapes, bananas, apples, walnuts, almonds, and foreign produce that Robin had not seen before but nevertheless looked delicious. They set them all beside a gigantic wooden pyre, countless bodylengths tall, and at least twenty bodylengths wide. It stood atop an artificial mound like an extraterrestrial monolith. It was told that it took a thousand trees just to construct the wood of the royal axes which were then used to fell the trees for this pyre.
The festival goers placed their platters of food around the monument in concentric circles starting at a wide berth from the pyre (standing even fifty feet from the flames was equivalent to being the victim of a direct arcfire spell) and then sat between them. This process had begun when the sun surfaced from the horizon and would not end until the sun returned there. Robin unloaded the carrot cake from the sack and left it among the other countless plates of food.
Once everyone had finally finished dropping off their offerings, the festival's chief organizer stepped atop the mound and gave his speech. He wielded a booming voice. After thanking all those who could make the fete, he recited his prayer for rain and a good harvest. When he finished, he was handed a torch by an assistant. He tossed the torch into the pyre and a small flame ignited at its center. All the participants cheered in unison. Soon, the little fire would engulf the entire structure.
That was the signal to begin the feast. Robin didn't miss a beat. Before he knew it, he found himself devouring a drumstick and then another drumstick and then a third drumstick. Finishing that, he ingested an entire string of green grapes and then chased it down with a few heroic gulps of wine. Then he moved on to the fish. Salmon, tuna, marlin in combination with oyster sauce, soy sauce, hot sauce, everything. A thousand people around him were doing the same thing.
"Slow down," said Lissa. "You'll choke on something."
Robin only managed to utter solitary syllables between crunching and munching on rolls of sushi.
"I knew you were a fast eater, but jeez."
Another voice. "Is that you, Robin?"
He turned around to find a familiar lady dressed in an unfamiliar garment. "Cherche!"
"I knew it was you. I could recognize that frizzled hair from a mile away."
"Cherchy!" Lissa exclaimed as she leapt into her arms.
"Lissa, you must be relieved to have your husband able to leave the house now."
"Yes, just in time for the festival too," she said. "And how's your husband? How's Vaike?"
"As enterprising as always. Vaike tells me that he feels Vaiker than usual today. I don't really know what that means, but I think it's good."
"Does he still keep the axe sharp?"
"If he can find it, which is about half the time."
"And how's Minerva," asked Robin?
"I'm glad you asked," said Cherche with a smile. "We flew down to the Grand River last week to see the water lilies. She loved eating the grass and scaring away the frogs."
Robin felt a tug at his shirt. "Look," said Lissa, pointing past the crowd, "the red ribbon game is starting!"
The man with the booming voice climbed atop an elevated platform and waited for everyone to notice his presence. Finally, he raised his hands and spoke to the crowd like a preacher.
"Now, it's time to partake in one of the oldest Ylissean traditions. Many hundreds of summers ago, the first Exalt of Ylisse vanquished the Fell Dragon with the divine blade Falchion. With each slash of the sword, the Exalted hero drew the dragon's blood, which sprayed into the air and rained upon the ground until it reeked of iron. We know this because the chroniclers of the time wrote much of this scene and described that moment of triumph in painstaking detail.
"The red ribbon game originated as a representation of this event. Participants will each receive a colored rag and strips of red ribbon, which represents the wounds opened at the contact of a sharpened edge. Tie the rag around your waist; the color of the rag is your team, either blue or orange. Tag participants of the other color by tying them with your ribbons, and continue until only one team remains."
The crowd applauded.
"Please don't be too rough."
The crowd laughed.
"And remember to have fun," said the announcer. "Now, those who would like to participate, please approach the platform."
All at once the bodies shifted in one magnetic pull, dragging Robin toward the platform where a line of soldiers began to toss out rags of blue and orange into the sea of hands. Men, women, and children alike hopped up in hopes of securing a rag. The booming voice carved once more through the wild hoots and shouts.
"Fifty per side. If you get a rag, come to the square. Otherwise, please give our participants some space."
Robin raised his hands dumbly and somehow intercepted a rag out of the air.
"Lucky," a child said. "That was mine!"
"Go, go, go," said another. "You're on the blue side. Get up there."
He felt palms shove him forward and soon found himself in a space cordoned off by guards. It was a small clearing in the grazing fields about the size of Arena Ferox.
After tying the rag around his waist, he searched amongst his co-competitors for anyone he might recognize. A solitary figure donning a pink yukata caught his attention.
"Olivia!"
She turned, wearing a startled expression. "Robin, I didn't know you were here."
"I didn't think you'd be the kind of person to do something like this."
"I don't know," she said. "The rag just kind of fell into my hands, and before I knew it, the crowd had pushed me up here."
"Your outfit looks really nice."
"T-thank you," she said, blushing. "I made it myself."
"Impressive! You wield a needle as skillfully as a blade."
"Oh, you're flattering me," she said. "I got a lot of help from my husband. He bought the fabric and helped me with the hard parts."
"Which reminds me, I haven't seen Lon'qu around. He's here?"
"I'm sure he's watching. Everyone's watching. It's so embarrassing."
"You'll do fine, Olivia."
"Thanks, Robin. By the way, you should have these." She procured a dozen long, red ribbons from her inner sleeve and handed half to him.
"How are we supposed to use these? I don't imagine they'll just stand there and let us tie these around them."
"It's a bit complicated, but you have to make a special knot like this. See? Just loop it through here and you'll form a lariat. Now you can throw it like a lasso and when you pull, it'll tighten."
"I see. Am I doing it right?"
"Whoa, you pick things up fast! As expected from the great tactician. And look, if you're really good, you can also throw it. See that?"
"Very nice. I think I'm getting the hang of it. Do you know when thi–"
The booming voice interrupted. "Begin!"
The crowd cheered.
Robin and Olivia were caught unready as men and women and children whizzed by them. The event had started.
Blue-rags collided into orange-rags, ribbons flew about like confetti. People tripped and dodged and spun as the spectators infected them with their delirium. He knew this chaos. It was the chaos of battle. In his ears he heard the ghostly clangs of steel against steel.
Robin's movements were precise and automatic. He whipped a ribbon at an opponent and tightened the loop around his waist. Out. Another ribbon at another competitor's legs. Out. A frenzied man charged at him, swinging a ribbon above him like a flail. Robin's muscles activated instinctively; he sidestepped the strike and countered with a strike of his own to the arms.
Glancing over at Olivia, he discovered that she was also faring well amid the bedlam, a consequence of her experience as a dancer and swordfighter. In fact, she was maneuvering more fluidly here than on the real battlefield. He remembered that Olivia had been one of the few fighters among Chrom's army who had trouble lifting an iron sword. But without the restriction of having to wield such a heavy instrument, she could move about much more freely.
The number of competitors the arena decreased until only the adroit few remained.
Five against four. Robin and Olivia both eliminated one orange-rag each but at the cost of three teammates.
Two against two. A teenage girl plunged forward brandishing the ribbon like a whip. Robin recognized this maneuver from the hundreds of Risen myrmidons he'd bested. The girl feinted as Robin had predicted, and he counterattacked with a successful lasso around her neck.
Two against one. The last orange-rag, a young man, slung a ribbon at Robin. He dodged, letting Olivia switch in. She zigzagged towards her target, but failed to make contact. The man rushed in with unnatural speed and lassoed her ankles together, eliminating her from the match.
"He's quick, Robin. Watch out!"
The young man quickly flung a ribbon at him like a shuriken. It was surprisingly accurate, and Robin was forced to twist his body to avoid the attack. Before he could fully recover, the man threw another one at him, and he knew this time he wouldn't be able to escape.
Out of nowhere, a second ribbon shot in and knocked the first one out of the air.
"Huh?"
"Hi, Robin," said a large figure standing close by.
"Kellam? Where'd you come from?"
"I was here the whole time, but no one was paying attention to me."
"Well, heck," said Robin, regaining his ready stance. "Help me get this last guy!"
The young fighter, now panting, clutched one ribbon in each hand, and whipped at them wildly. Both deflected the strikes and then at the same time, moved in for the final blow.
"Dual strike!" they shouted.
Robin's ribbon tightened around the man's right arm, and Kellam's around the left.
"And it's over! Blue team wins this year's red ribbon event!" proclaimed the booming voice.
The onlookers roared in approval.
Three men stepped in and lifted Robin above their heads to celebrate. Cheers erupted all over the fields.
Kellam, the other victor, stood alone as they carried off their hero.
"Oh, ummm. Good game, guys…. Guys?"
…
…
…
Once they returned to home, Lissa lit a candle and placed it on the nightstand.
"When the flame burns out, we'll sleep. But I wanted to see your face first. And I want my face to be the last thing you see today."
"Lissa…"
"Turn around. I give a good back massage."
Robin lay on his stomach, limbs splayed across the bed. She kneeled over the small of his back, thighs firm against his. Her fingers kneaded at his shoulder muscles and descended slowly to his waist. A puff of wind soughed in through the half-open window and the flame flickered in its slipstream. Shadows bounced across the empty wall.
"That was a great show you put on," said Lissa, giggling. "I was cheering the whole time."
"I'm a bit rusty. I could've dodged that last one."
"Maybe it's a good thing you couldn't, because that would mean you were still fighting. I don't want to lose you. I want to be with you forever."
"Me too."
She slid her hands across the nape of his neck, sending chills down his spine. "I can't believe Cordelia and Maribelle are both having kids. Cherche is pregnant too, you know. Everyone is having children."
"How come she didn't say anything?"
"She thinks that the only man who should know about a woman's pregnancy is her husband. She's very old-fashioned."
"I see."
Lissa leaned in, breasts pressed against his upper back, lips beside his ears.
"I want children too," she whispered.
"Children? Plural?"
"One son and one daughter. A son with a bright smile and a strong will, a daughter with golden hair and a righteous heart. We'll raise them well. They won't have to know about the terror we've had to live through."
"So soon? Aren't you rush—"
"You'll be a good father. I know it."
"B-but this is a bi—"
"Robin, turn around."
He looked back just in time to see her wife's smile before the candle burned out. In the newfound darkness, a pair of lips locked with his and a tongue slid into his mouth. Robin offered little resistance as Lissa wrapped her arms around his head and pulled him into her bosom. She took his hand, closed it over her, his thumb gliding up her inner thigh. Electricity surged through each point of contact as skin rubbed against skin. Robin was surprised at how responsive she was at even the slightest tease. Breaths heavy, fingers interlocked, animal instinct stole over them.
Outside, embers continued to rise skyward. The pyre burned and burned and burned throughout the night and then flared up in one brilliant climax before a morning drizzle quenched it completely.