Chapter Two

Shepherds

(Part One)

Robin stirs from side to side, the creases in the bed sheets following the curvature of her spine. Her legs kick out, her arms bind her body. The bandages on her cheek are fraying at the edges, the cast coiling around her right arm creaks as she tenses and balls her hands into tight fists.

In her dreams, she is running.

One leg after the other, she bounds through a field of grey reeds. She looks back over her shoulder, only to find the red glow of fire chasing her through the darkness.

She looks ahead again, but finds a wall of swirling blackness barring her from proceeding.

Her heart is beating fast.

She looks over her shoulder again, but the torches and shouts have disappeared. Looking forward again, a hand extends itself out to her.

Should she take it? Should she run away?

While arguing with herself, the hand draws back and strikes her face.

Robin awakes, violently.

She jolts up into a sitting position, straining her cracked ribs. She yelps out in pain, clenching her side.

Her broken arm quivers and sweats in the cast.

The wounds on her cheek have reopened from her incessant tossing and turning, staining the bandages deep red.

She is shaking. She looks up, and finds a mirror on the opposite wall.

Staring at herself, she becomes very afraid.

Once her heartbeat has softened to a gentle, even palpitation, she scoots back to lean back against the headboard. She whimpers softly at the strain on her ribcage, then breathes out steadily.

The room she is in is nothing special, save for the elaborate etchings in the ceiling and skirting boards, reminiscent of a Greek palace. There is a bed in the middle of the room, which is painted almost entirely white, a mirror opposite it and a dresser beside it.

A closed window collects a summer breeze, which taps at the window pane, as if asking for entry.

The only door in the room is shut tightly.

Robin exhales slowly. Her forehead and neck are damp with sweat.

She looks down at the palm of her good hand.

"Robin," she whispers to herself. "That's my name, isn't it?" She takes that same hand and rubs her eyes with it. "Or is it all a dream?"

Robin gets out of bed, opens the door, and peers out to the hallway. It is empty and is suspended in a polite silence.

Closing the door again, she takes a moment-or a few more-to get changed into the clothes folded on the dresser. They are not hers, and are loose-fitting, but do well to hide the scars on her arms.

No matter what her memory says-or doesn't say, in her case- she is sure that they were not sustained from the accident. They are far too old-looking and stiflingly deep.

As she struggles to lift her shirt over her cast, she spots something purple on her back in the mirror.

She swallows, hard, then turns her back to the mirror and looks over her shoulder.

She sighs.

"Not the type of tattoo I would want, but…perhaps I was a different person…"

She ignores the ink, which scrawls across her back in a dark symbol, and pulls on the other blouse.

After that, she exits the room into the hallway and closes the door behind her.

She touches her cheek, which draws blood through the bindings.

"Where's the bathroom in this place?" she groans under her breath. She stifles her complaints by reminding herself of her gratitude to Chrom.

Truly, if she weren't here, where would she be? In the gutter again, where another car would surely do more damage?

Advancing down the corridor, Robin begins to hear soft, muffled voices. They are neither loud nor forceful like the ones from the night before, or in her dreams, but rather are hushed and polite and engaged in a light conversation.

She follows them closely.

She traces the walls, brushing her shoulder against age-old wallpaper.

At the end of the trail of voices, Robin finds a door hanging ajar, through which sunlight plays on the carpeted hall.

Robin swallows, sighs, and rubs her eyes. The harsh morning sunlight reminds her only more of her dreams, which continue to play and rewind in her head.

She steps closer to the door, peering through the crack.

"You say you ran into trouble last night?" a gentle, female voice asks. It is the most soothing voice Robin has ever heard, with an airy quality imitating the wind itself.

"That's right," Chrom replies. The sound of his voice resonates with Robin especially well. Even if new and still somewhat unfamiliar, it is a nice sound to hear.

Robin blushes-it dawns upon her that she may be eavesdropping. Still, she remains by the door.

"Are you hurt?"

"No, no, I'm fine," Chrom chuckles. "Frederick and I arrived before the bandits could do any real damage. It appears they were trying to beat a man for information. Frederick and Sully also found explosives in their possession."

"Oh my…"

"They were Plegian thugs, it seems."

"They seem to be turning up more and more every day. I'm sorry I couldn't be more vigilant," the woman mutters.

"Don't blame yourself, Emm. Frederick called this morning to report his findings. After interviewing the group, he found out that they're not just ordinary brigands," Chrom's voice turns sharp.

"Oh?"

"It appears as though they weren't shy in admitting they were part of a larger organisation. They call themselves 'The Risen.' They're a denomination of Plegian rebels who…and this is where it get strange…believe a demon dragon will wreak havoc on Ylissean 'sinners'." Chrom pauses to clear his throat. "Moreover, they seem to be openly planning to lay waste to Ylisse as some form of-of patriotism."

"That's certainly a predicament…Plegia is increasingly becoming a problem, and at our doorstep, no less. What of the man they were beating? Why him?" the woman, despite his words, seems to keep calm. Her voice is unwaveringly peaceful.

"Ah, Virion. He's a foreign diplomat. It may be that he was deliberately targeted, because he wishes to join the effort against the Plegian uprising," Chrom explains. "He's a…colourful character, nonetheless."

"But he is safe?"

"Yeah, he's fine. I'm only worried that more will end up like him if we don't do something, and quickly. On that note, I'm sorry I had to cancel the meeting with the ambassador yesterday. I ran into some other trouble."

"Ah yes, I heard. Your new friend, wasn't it?"

"Robin. I hope you don't mind her staying here. I feel dreadful about the whole affair."

"It's fine, Chrom, put your mind at ease. Besides, I already tried contacting the ambassador, with no reply. Their king, too, won't return any of my inquiries."

Robin inches closer to the door, tilting her head somewhat to see through. She catches a glimpse of the mystery woman's angelic face before a hand captures her shoulder.

She gasps and turns, only to find Frederick, his brow pulled tightly over his narrowed eyes.

"What, might I ask, would you be doing?" he annunciates so clearly and so sharply that the words themselves bite and sting.

"I was…looking for the bathroom…"

The conversation within comes to an abrupt halt.

"Hm. You expect me to believe that? I should have known there was something odd about you," says Frederick.

The door opens, and Chrom stands in the doorway.

"Frederick? Robin? What's going on?" he inquires.

Frederick turns Robin around manually, his hand grasping her shoulder firmly.

"I came to report the rest of my investigation into the Plegian affair, and when I got here I found her eavesdropping, sir. I suspect she's a Plegian spy," he almost spits. His distaste is apparent.

"W-wait, hey, Chrom, he's got the wrong idea," Robin stammers. She looks up, only to meet the stern gaze of the police chief.

"Frederick, let her go. I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation for this. Right?" Chrom smiles softly.

The woman inside's voice calls softly, "Chrom? What's going on out there?"

He pokes his head back inside. "Nothing, Emm."

"Nothing? Hold on, is that our visitor you're speaking to? Bring her in. I'd very much like to meet her."

Chrom turns back to face Robin and Frederick, a gentle beam gracing his lips. He nods. "Come on in. Both of you."

He pushes the door open and lets the two forward in awkwardly. Robin clears her throat nervously.

The woman sitting down at the long, wooden table in the centre of the room is indeed a graceful sight. Her blonde hair cascades in billowing tresses over her shoulders. Her long eyelashes cap slightly squinted and brilliantly vibrant eyes. Her slender fingers are folded neatly on the surface of the table. Her lips curl into a soft, almost nonexistent smile.

"Frederick, it's good to see you're safe," she says.

Frederick nods, then gives a shallow bow. "I'm glad I could keep Chrom and Lissa safe, Madam Sovereign."

"I'm glad, too, especially after yesterday's ordeal. I've been told you ran into the Grimleal cult," the angelic Sovereign murmurs, her tone turning almost grim yet still capturing that airy, tender quality.

"Yes, Ma'am. I've sent a unit to investigate some of the so-called Risen hideouts. We've already recovered a good amount of explosives and firearms, not to mention idols of demonic worship."

Chrom pats Robin on the shoulder.

"Emm. Might I introduce Robin. Not only did I mow her down yesterday, but she actually helped in apprehending one of the culprits last night," Chrom laughs, alone. "Robin, this is my sister, Emmeryn, Sovereign of Ylisse."

"Sovereign…? Is that like…like a queen…?" Robin raises her hand to her mouth. She struggles out of Frederick's grasp to curtsy. "I'm terribly sorry for my manners, milady."

Emmeryn chuckles. "Don't be. Any friend of Chrom's is a friend of mine, and if you aided in protecting my people, then I trust you all the more. Frederick, please spare her your icy glare," she beams.

Frederick obeys immediately, his eyes tearing away from Robin, his gaze softening.

"Oh, no, I really didn't do anything. I kneed a man in the groin because I thought he was attacking me. Seriously, I don't deserve your thanks," Robin's jumbled words leave her dry mouth at a mile a minute. "It's I who should be thanking you, for allowing me to stay in your home. And for being so informal. I apologise, Madam Sovereign."

"Please, just Emmeryn is fine. I might be the Sovereign, but first and foremost I am Chrom and Lissa's sister, and they seem to have taken to you finely. If you have no home to return to, I'm happy to have you stay here for as long as you want," Emmeryn stands, her back straight and her green dress flowing perfectly around her, and quite humbly reaches over the table to shake Robin's hand.

"Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to speak with Frederick and Chrom about some matters of the state. Perhaps you'd like to spend some time with Lissa? I hear she's put on a meeting for the Shepherds. Perhaps your groin-kicking expertise will be welcome there. I know I'd feel safer with more people on the taskforce, keeping our borders safe."

"Yes, ma'am. Anything to repay you and your family for the hospitality," Robin curtsies again.

Chrom chuckles. "Robin, it's me who has to repay you, remember? But I'm sure Lissa would enjoy the company. Why don't you go down to the courtyard? I'll fetch a maid to escort you."

"R-Right."

The courtyard of the Ylisstol Complex was a cobblestone clearing accessed via shaded exterior corridors and garden avenues. Rose beds adorned the yard in orderly, colourful lines, with gardeners shuffling back and forth, pulling out weeds and spraying fertiliser on pest-eaten bushes.

Robin followed the serving girl through the building down to it, inspecting every single corner and alcove in awe of its grandiose architecture.

"This place is beautiful," she noted beneath her breath.

The maid did not reply, but stepped out of the way when they arrived at the courtyard and bowed low.

Standing in the outside hallway, Robin spots the bumbling, bouncy figure of Lissa in a yellow-and-white dress, giggling and conversing loudly with a small party of other people.

She is arm-in-arm with another blonde woman, who in her other hand is shading herself with a frilly white parasol. There are bows in her hair, and she wears predominately pink, and the only thing that betrays her upper-class, frilly white appearance is the stern frown on her face.

In front of them is a beefy blonde man sitting on the edge of one of the garden beds and a young, fair woman standing rigidly to the side.

So these are the Shepherds, a ragtag bunch of youths barely out of their teens, who are meant to be the ones to expel the Plegians from Ylisse and prevent bombings.

Lissa's eyes draw over to the shoulders of the courtyard, and when they lock with Robin's, her smile widens and she waves in a broad arc above her head.

"Hey! Robin! Over here!" she hollers brightly. "Guys, she's the one I was talking about. Hey! C'mon, don't be shy!"

Robin doesn't even attempt to protest as Lissa comes over and forcibly pulls her into the centre of the group.

"Guys, this is Robin. Chrom ran her over, she has amnesia, she packs a punch and we've invited her to stay at the complex for a bit. You know, the usual deal," Lissa sighs, as if it is the most banal explanation she had ever had to give.

"Robin, huh? Squirt's been talking up a storm about how you kicked a Plegian terrorist down to size. Nice job. The name's Vaike," he stands, catches Robin's hand in a violent grasp, and gives a toothy grin. He points to himself with his thumb. "But the guys around here call me Teach. It's a sign of respect or somethin', y'know."

"Nice to meet you, um, Teach," Robin offers a small, somewhat uncomfortable laugh.

Vaike disregards it.

"So where's Chrom, huh? Still recoverin' from battle wounds? Ha! What a weakling, am I right?"

"Yeah, where is the captain, anyway? I've- I mean we've been worried about him- I-I mean all of you since you left," the shy, fair girl stammers. She glances at Robin and smiles.

"That's Sumia," Lissa gestures to her, then lowers her voice to a whisper. "She's good with horses, if nothing else."

"I see."

"Chrom's fine, guys. He's just in a meeting with Emm and Frederick about the Risen or whatever."

"So, Robin, ya got any skills? To join the Shepherds, ya gotta be real good at somethin'. Like, I'm an expert with all sorts of weapons. Gimme a gun, a sword, an axe, and I'll cut those Plegian asses down to size!" Vaike roars, swinging his fists. "I'm teachin' Chrom how to handle a sword. Y'know, like old fashioned samurai and knight kinda swords. He took up fencing in high school, but I was always better than him."

"You certainly seem quite eager," Robin smiles at him. "I look forward to witnessing your…skills."

"You bet. 'Tswhy I joined the Shepherds. The Vaike wants to beat Chrom and protect Ylisse," he slumps down onto the cobblestones. "What can I say? I'm a simple guy."

"Ugh. Vaike, get up! Is this how you handle yourself in front of visitors? And don't encourage him, Robin. From what Lissa had told us, I would have thought you were a little less uncouth like our abhorrent barbarian over here," the blonde woman latching onto Lissa huffs.

She spins the parasol idly in her hand.

"And letting my Lissa tread off into danger-honestly, the lot of you are simply mad. I have an appointment to attend to, either way, and I won't miss it for this. Lissa, I'll see you later," she scoffs. She clicks her heels on the ground, then flicks around and leaves without another word. Everyone watches her go.

"Don't take it to heart," Sumia sighs. "Maribelle's a little tightly strung, but if you give her time, she's really a good person."

"I wouldn't try to fight with her, though," Lissa giggles. "Her words sure do pack a punch."

"So, what exactly are the Shepherds, anyway?" Robin asks. She scratches idly at her arm cast.

"We're a Sovereign-sanctioned taskforce," Lissa says. "Chrom formed it to keep an eye on the borders when Plegia started to act up. Ever since the last war ended, it's been in bad condition, and terrorist and bandit activity have been up. We work with the police in order to secure the safety of the people. We're like, hm, how can I explain it? Y'know those special elite cop units you see on TV?"

Robin shakes her head.

"No? No, I guess not… But basically we're just your average joes looking to start a militia and stop a rebellion. You know, the usual stuff."

There is a loud bang in the distance, piercing and too close for comfort, like thunder clapping next to one's ear.

Vaike jumps to his feet, his head flicking back and forth, searching for an opponent. He takes Lissa by the wrist and acts as her shield.

"What wuzzat!?" he grunts.

"I-I dunno!" Lissa gasps.

The smell of fire wafts into Robin's nostrils. The burning sensation is frighteningly familiar, and for the briefest of moments she is transported back to her nightmares.

Dark smoke rises over the building, carried by the summer wind into the courtyard.

Pairings locked in:

Henry x Olivia (Not a huge fan of this one, but I know it's popular and those two are very cute.)

Also, I'd like to note that even though this is a Modern AU, it will still contain themes such as religious cults and human sacrifice.

Plegia is an interesting place.