Updates are scheduled strictly on the basis of whenever-I-feel-like. Since most of the story is done anyway, that means multiple chapters sometime this week. Big thanks to you all for reading.

Heartfelt thanks to the reviewers, whose encouragements brought about the quick update of this chapter. This chapter is dedicated to you.

Something about you now
I can't quite figure out
Everything she does is beautiful
Everything she does is right

The key word here was that she tried.

After her speech praising the tactician's true values, and how she should be hailed as a hero and not condemned for being born Plegian, the entire council has all but exploded, expounding how she had been brainwashed by the woman, and how said tactician was only becoming close to her to manipulate her, and 'worm' her way into the noble bloodlines that have 'built' the Ylissean kingdom. The words 'murderess' and 'conniving little street urchin' made their way into the verbal storm that was threatening to pour down on everything. Maribelle was a lady, and she will not join the common thrashings of the mouth that this council seems to be so fond of. Plus, it was getting so hard to control her violent reactions to the unfounded words that sprung from their filthy mouths. As calmly as she could, while everyone around her yelled, screamed, beseeched and pointed their pudgy fingers, she curtsied to Chrom and exited the room, screaming out of frustration the moment she got out, the shrill cry dulled by the slamming of the iron doors.

The chaos inside, however, continued.

"Milord, what of Sumia? She is a lovely girl, full of grace and charming light. It would—"

"Majesty, perhaps marriage to the current reigning khan in the north would increase the economic—"

"My king, if I may be so bold, my daughter is of marriageable age and it would be—"

"Your highness, I know of this lady from Valm who knows of a charming princess in the oriental north…" They all began to jabber at the same time, their mouths so full of their egos, their minds so full of self-importance that they actually thought that Chrom CARED about their opinions. His sister respected the council. It was the same council that his father has assembled, and frankly, anything that had to do with his father, he doesn't really give a damn about. But Emmeryn kept them, and she was civil, diplomatic and courtly when dealing with them…

...

Naga's sake, who was he kidding? He was no Emmeryn.

"ENOUGH!" He roared, his fist banging on to the undamaged arm rest, his face scrunched in fury and anger. Most of them cowered silently, startled into quickly taking a seat. Other more audacious council members had the nerve to look at him admonishingly, as if his royal highness was simply a misbehaving brat.

"Emmeryn may have been tolerant of your self-serving mannerisms, but I'm having NONE of this. No, no more. I don't need judgement calls from bunch of old men who sat on their laurels while MY SISTER fell to her death." He glared at each one that dared meet his eyes. "YOU have no right to say anything about the person I love. She has the most beautiful soul. You were not there to protect me whenever my defenses fell. You were not the ones that comforted me at my time of need. You were not the one who fell in exhaustion or illness, often burning midnight oil so you could come up with a plan to keep everyone safe in battle.

"You don't know Robin like I do. She is kindness and laughter embodied and I intend on wedding her."

Commotion slowly began again, and Frederick, who was furiously grasping on his last shred of civility, was about to order to court to be silent or be charged with undermining the new king's authority, but Chrom beat him to it.

"Shut up! You are all useless! From now on, this council is abolished! I don't know if Emmeryn kept this intact for nostalgic purposes, or simply because she was benevolent, and didn't want you cravens out of a job, but I am king now, and Robin my queen. The words you spoke at this assembly could have damned you well with treason, but if you leave now, and never show your face again, I'll only strip you all of nobility. For you all have no right to be called 'noble'."

"But milord, every ruling body needs—"

"I will assemble my own council, one that I trust to have the knowledge and the wisdom to properly guide me. Now, I suggest you leave, quickly and quietly. The next person to utter a word will become my next sparring dummy." Chrom announced firmly, becoming more adept in hiding the rage burning within him now that he has regained control of the situation. His stare bore holes at the back of the council's heads and he watched intently, not averting his gaze from the entrance until all of them left, escorted by guards to the main foyer and into their respective carriages.

After the last of them vanished, Chrom felt all the wound up tension in him give out, and he collapsed into the damaged throne, sighing. He looked over to his companion, who looked at him with unreadable eyes.

"My apologies, Frederick… I know it wasn't so diplomatic of me to lash out in anger, but those damned idiots…! They think they know so much!" Chrom sighed once again, head in his hands, nursing the guilt that loomed in his head. Frederick shook his head.

"Milord, you were of true royalty tonight, in stature and in soul. You defended Lady Robin's dignity well and to be frank, milord, they simply care too much about birthright because the heritage that their ancestors left is all they have. You have a prosperous kingdom and a noble wife to care for you. You have everything they could only dream of." Frederick smiled and assured his lord, who smiled back at him gratefully. Chrom may mention his thanks rarely, but Frederick knew a smile of gratitude when he saw it.

"Right, well, my liege, I bid you good day. I'll make sure that the rest of the day is clear for you." The knight said, earning another nod of thanks from his king. "After all, milady will need to start bearing heirs fairly soon. You'd best get started on that, milord."

With cheerful spring in his step, Frederick left his charge alone as he babbled incoherently on the throne that held the most esteemed of kings, blushing like a child.

...

I can find at least 3 instances in the game where Fem!Avatar/Robby is either too tired to function and just falls asleep, or becomes ill because of stress: Lissa's C support, Tharja's A and Noire's A, and yet she still has time to cook, interact and do all those other things. I feel so Severa about this.