"News about the assassination attempt, sir," Maribelle says, delivering a stack of sheets to Chrom's office. "The second body was identified through dental records, and it took a hell of a long time. Apparently, he used to be part of the Ylissian army, although he put down his arms after Emmeryn's death. He was a huge supporter of hers, and not so much of you, by the sounds of things." She points at the face on the top of the pile, and Chrom nods in acknowledgment.

"I recognise him, probably from the army." He lifts the photo to look at the page underneath, and raises an eyebrow at the next picture, taken at the autopsy. "Tharja really did a number on him."

"Well, that's what she's there for, I suppose. Regardless, I'll be trying to find where he may have been operating from. Because he was military, we have former addresses, so we can chase up leads."

"Are you sure you're allowed to do this, Maribelle? I mean, this is usually police work."

"Well, we all have ambitions," she says haughtily, turning her head away.

"I'll take that as a no," Chrom laughs. "Your dedication is appreciated, however, and don't forget that. I'll assign some people to help you with this."

"Oh, don't worry," she replies flippantly, waving a hand. "Gaius is helping, since he's an expert on the criminal underworld of Ylisse, he'll be more help than any team you have."

"Don't go in anywhere alone, okay?"

"Chrom," Maribelle says finally, placing her hand on his forearm. "We'll be fine."

Robin replaces the bandages on her hands herself, with a stash she keeps in the cabinet in the bedroom. It's all stolen from Miriel, who could care less. She got Lissa to heal the cuts earlier, avoiding explaining why, and telling her that under no circumstances is she to tell Chrom. They hurt a lot less than they did last week, but she's pretty sure that some of the cuts will scar. The bruises are fading fast, but her joints are still stiff, and she regrets ever deciding to do archery.

Unfortunately, when you live with someone, it's hard to keep secrets from them. Her gloves don't cover the ends of her fingers, and she ends up begging Maribelle for a pair of her signature pink gloves, although they make her hands far too warm. Robin's gloves are more akin to arm bracers, and she only wears them to prevent muscular dystrophy when practicing magic. Maribelle's are cute, and fleece lined, and are well suited to a high-ranking woman such as herself. Robin finds them uncomfortable, but doesn't protest.

Of course, you can't sleep with gloves on, and Chrom is quick to realise when he catches her hand in his own as she leaves in the morning for the bathroom. They're still bandaged up, and she winces, and he raises an eyebrow. She folds her arms, hiding her hands like a child, in the hope he'll forget.

"What happened? Were you involved in a fight?" He asks, genuine concern evident on his face.

"No."

"Then what happened?"

"I decided to take up archery," she sighs, releasing her hands from the bandages to show him the full horror of her hands. He gasps at the cuts and bruises, but she silences him before he can start on her. "And it turns out, I'm really bad at it. So I won't be doing it again. Maribelle suggested I write a book or take up floristry."

"I think you'd be a wonderful author," Chrom admits, lifting one of Robin's hands to his lips and placing a gentle kiss on it. "I still can't believe that you managed to mess up this badly, though."

"My talents clearly lie in strategy and magic, not archery."

"Hey, don't put yourself down. You're pretty handy with a sword, too. I remember the time when I asked you to spar with me, and you ended up on top of me and almost decapitated me," Chrom reminisces fondly.

"You shouldn't sound so happy about almost being decapitated," Robin points out, her face heating up considerably.

"And you shouldn't be so embarrassed about a memory that you share with your husband," Chrom laughs, pulling her towards him and placing a kiss on her forehead.

"Oh, shut up," she says, weakly hitting him on the arm to free herself from his grip. She sighs, sitting on the end of the bed. "I know you and Maribelle are planning to go after the assassins," she says bluntly, and Chrom swallows hard.

"And?"

"Should the exalt really be putting himself in such danger?"

"It won't be dangerous, Robin."

"I think assassins rank pretty highly on the list of dangerous things, Chrom," Robin points out, folding her arms once again.

"We're going with the police to see what we can find, and maybe make a few arrests. Gaius and Tharja will be there too, and everyone knows that they are skilled fighters."

"That's not the point," Robin sighs. "You're the leader of this country. If you die for some reason, who's gonna take over? I'm not popular- I should be running Plegia, not here! Lucina's too young, and Lissa… well, it's not that she couldn't, but it's probably not a good idea for her to, considering she's not diplomatic at all and rules with her heart, which isn't necessarily a bad thing."

"About Plegia," Chrom interrupts, ignoring her previous question. "Are you ready to go? We leave at dawn tomorrow. I know that it was supposed to be last week, and they postponed it due to the king being ill, but are you still up to going?"

"Ah yes, my condition has deteriorated considerably in the last seven days since we last discussed this, as I'm now one week closer to giving birth," Robin says sarcastically. "I'll be fine. You better not get killed or anything later. I am not going to Plegia alone."

"What's this?" Robin asks as Maribelle marches into the library, buried behind a huge stack of paper. She sets it down on the table with a slam, and drops a pen beside. Robin shuts her book, making a mental note of the page number, and sets it to one side.

"Paper. So you can write your memoir," Maribelle states plainly.

"I wasn't serious about doing it. I think I'm a bit young to be writing my life story. Or… the last few years of my life," Robin protests.

"You don't have to do anything with it. It doesn't need to be published, and you don't need to let anyone else read it. Think of it more as therapy. Write what you remember. It doesn't need to be important things; it doesn't even need to be chronological. Trust me when I say this, darling, I believe this will do you a lot of good."

"I'll try," Robin smiles weakly, and Maribelle nods in response.

"Good. I have to go find that wretched husband of yours now," she sighs, straightening out her cloak.

"Make sure he doesn't die. And yourself, of course."

"No one will be dying on my watch, dear, don't you worry. See you later!"

Robin waves at Maribelle's back as she leaves, shutting the heavy library door behind her. She lifts a few sheets off the top of the pile- really, it was unnecessary for Maribelle to bring so many. The whiteness of the pages stares at her, and suddenly her mind is blank. Not one word comes into her head. Where do you even begin with writing an autobiography? Instead of writing about herself, she writes the first name that enters her mind.

Chrom.

She follows it with another: Lucina. And another: Morgan.

Grima comes next, and Plegia follows suit.

She lists all the shepherds, all the people she's fought against, all her allies. She writes Emmeryn and Phila and then casts the page across the table before lifting a second. Well, at least it was a start.

Gaius arrives in the hall of the castle before anyone else, and since no one else is around, he swipes the large glass bowl from the table by the door. He's heard Robin complain about it before, so he reckons he's probably doing everyone a favour. Tharja appears as he's closing his satchel, her dark eyes boring into him. She moves quickly, fluidly, and then she's leaning against the wall beside him, tome held between her now crossed arms.

"She's going to kill you, you know," she points out dryly, nodding at the gap on the table.

"Who, Robin? Nah, that thing was ugly. I can probably get two thousand gold, if not more for it down the market. I'll buy a replacement, something that actually looks half decent."

"No, I mean your wife," Tharja drawls, her mouth contorting into a smirk. "I thought you told her your thieving days were over."

"I did, so you better not say anything to her. I told her I'd cleaned my act up, and she believes me, so you're not to go ruining this!"

"Don't worry, I won't. Maybe a little spell will help? Something that makes the subject's tongue tight, so they can't tell their little secrets to anyone, even by accident… or maybe I'll curse Maribelle so she can't hear it when you inevitably tell her."

"I'm not falling for your tricks again, Tharja. Your spells always have horrible consequences."

"Only on you. I have a perfect track record otherwise. You are an anomaly. Anyone in Plegia would be happy to have me offer them a curse."

"Really Chrom, you shouldn't be coming!" Maribelle's voice carries from down the corridor, and soon the clicking of her heeled boots and the clank of Chrom's armour can be heard as they round the corner and come into sight. "We have no idea what will be happening here, so it's probably not the best idea for you to come!"

"Here she comes, bringing a storm with her… it's only a matter of time before she finds out," Tharja prophesises.

"Shut up."

"Well, I'm coming either way, and that's final. Don't forget, I'm your boss, not the other way around. Gaius, Tharja, ready to go?"

"Yes, sir," Gaius says lazily, pushing himself off the wall and away from Tharja's presence. She smirks in response, brushing past the table where the glass bowl sat before, drawing Maribelle's eye to it. The blonde narrows her eyes at the gap on the table, her eyebrows furrowing, but shakes her head in response.

"Let's go then," she sighs. "And no one is to get killed, alright?"

Their destination is a while away from the palace, almost on the outskirts of Ylisstol. Maribelle walks in front, and Chrom behind her, his head down, mumbling to Gaius. Tharja brings up the rear of the group, arms folded, glaring at anyone who makes eye contact. Gaius seems to know where exactly he's going, and Chrom assumes that this is why he's in the group in the first place. He mutters instructions to Maribelle, who doesn't respond outwardly, but follows the directions expertly. They quickly end up in a part of town Chrom was ashamed to say he'd never seen in his life. The buildings were run down, some on the verge of collapsing in on themselves.

"Are you certain this is the right place?" Maribelle asks, tapping her foot impatiently.

"This is the address you gave me, so yeah, I guess," Gaius replies. She sighs and marches up to the front door, if you could even call it that, knocking briskly. Within a few moments, it opens, and a young woman cradling a baby comes to the door.

"Hello?" She asks, her hand not leaving the door.

"Hello," Maribelle says, smiling warmly. "My name is Maribelle, and I work as a retainer for Lady Robin. I have a few questions for you, but I can assure you that you're not in trouble. Would we be able to come in?" The woman glances around her, and upon realizing that they're the only ones there, nods.

"Be quick." Her voice is rough, and her eyes are tired, and Chrom can tell that she's seen a world of troubles he could never imagine. She leads them through to a back room, with a few rickety chairs in it. She sits on one, and Maribelle perches on another, dusting it off not so subtly before sitting. Chrom sits on the last chair, and Tharja stands at the doorway, facing away from the room. Gaius leans against the wall, not afraid by the fact that it looked as though it might collapse any moment.

"Do you know this man?" Maribelle says, getting straight to the point. She holds the photo up of the man in his military uniform, and the woman's hand goes straight to her mouth before she nods slowly. "Who is he?" Maribelle prompts, but the woman is too shocked to speak.

"Lady, we need you to tell us truthfully how you know him. It's of utmost importance to the kingdom," Chrom speaks up, and Maribelle shoots him a look of despair.

"Chrom," she hisses, her tone clearly a warning for him to shut up.

"Exalt Chrom?" The woman asks, and Chrom turns to her, nodding apprehensively. She takes a deep breath, before exhaling slowly. "That man was my husband. Sergeant Donald Armor. He used to serve in your army, a long time ago. But then Lady Emmeryn passed away, and he left, saying he didn't agree with the new Exalt's views."

"A lot of people don't, even though I'm trying to follow in my sister's footsteps the best I possibly can," Chrom admits.

"When was the last time you saw him?" Maribelle questions, pushing forward with her investigation.

"The end of March, start of April, maybe… it was a long time. He said he was going to work somewhere, and he may not be back for a while. I've been trying to bring up this one on my own, but it's difficult."

"I understand the struggle of being a single parent. I know our circumstances are different, but…"

"Seriously Chrom, shut up," Gaius interjects. "You know nothing of poverty."

"We've had this conversation before."

"Sorry." Gaius rolls his eyes, returning to his original silence.

"I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but I'm afraid your husband is dead," Maribelle says, gritting her teeth for the reaction to come. But there is none. The woman is silent, staring straight at Maribelle.

"What happened?" She asks.

"He broke into the palace on the night of the royal banquet earlier this year, with clear intent to assassinate either the king or the queen. He, along with his accomplice, were killed on the spot."

"I always knew he was opposed to you, but to attempt to take your life… something else must be going on here. It wasn't like him."

"We understand-" Chrom starts, but Tharja cuts him off.

"Chrom. We've got trouble." Her eyes flicker from the front of the house to the woman, and then landing on Chrom. "We need to leave. There are people at the front, and they don't look happy. They must've seen us coming in."

"This whole area is very anti exalt," the woman admits. "You can leave through the back. I can tell them you've gone."

"It's too late, they've already seen us," Tharja explains, drawing her tome book out and flicking through the pages. "You need to leave too. Your life is now in danger."

"Is there anywhere you can go, even for now?" Chrom says, getting to his feet and unsheathing Falchion.

"Yes," she replies, grabbing a bag from the counter. It was clearly meant to be a get away bag- already packed and ready for whenever she needed it.

"Then go. We'll protect you. Gaius, Tharja, you take the back. Maribelle, behind me. We'll get you out of here safely, don't worry."

There's a loud crash fro the front door, and Tharja's voice yells out 'Nosferatu' before anything else can happen.

"Run," she says, and she retreats backwards, hand held outwards for when the cloud of dark magic clears. She squints to peer through the darkness. "Maribelle, throw me that fire tome." The leather bound book is passed to Gaius as they continue their exit, and Tharja lights a single flame on the tip of her finger, peering into the smoke. Suddenly, a figure jumps at her, and she steps backwards, only a few steps from escape. Chrom and Maribelle are already outside, and Gaius is currently standing in the doorframe, sword drawn and held out in front of her.

"I'll protect your life here, and you keep quiet to Maribelle, okay?"

"Deal."

He steps out in front of her, and she runs out to the back, muttering spells under her breath, her hands glowing blue and yellow and red to protect Gaius. He arrives outside unscathed, and she breathes a sigh of relief.

"Is that it?"

"No," the woman says, pointing to the end of the alleyway. "Here they come."

"We can execute them for threatening the exalt, right?" Tharja drawls, putting the fire tome back in Maribelle's bag. The blonde shrugs in response, but Gaius nods, so the sorcerer takes that as her cue to rain down all hell on the four men advancing towards them. "Nosferatu!"

"Bolganone!" Maribelle cries in response, the fireball flying behind Tharja's dark magic. Chrom runs in after, Falchion gleaming under the noon sun. There's silence for a second, before the unmistakable cry of pain, and Gaius moves this time, flying after Chrom. Maribelle swaps her tome for a heal staff, and she teeters on the edge of the brawl. Tharja clears the air of her dark magic in one swift movement, and the catastrophe is revealed.

All four men are down, but so is Chrom, clutching at his side. There's a pool of blood, but at least two of them are still alive, so Tharja conjures up dark magic handcuffs, restraining them. Gaius runs off, yelling something about the police. The woman is shaking, but Tharja places a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"It's okay. It's over now. And you're safe, which is a bonus."

"B-but…"

"I've seen worse. Really."

"Chrom, you absolute buffoon! I told you this was a bad idea, you troglodyte! Gods, what have you done?" She drags his body out, with many protests from him. She kneels by his side and notices the blood spilling out from under his clothes. She carefully peels them back, wincing at the deep gash in his side. "Well, you haven't severed any major arteries, so I guess that's something," she mumbles, putting her healing staff to work on his side. "We'll have to get you back to the castle right away."

"Thanks, Maribelle."

"Shut it. Robin is going to go through you."

"I told you to be careful!" Robin screams, all the while still holding his hand.

"I didn't know they would have concealed daggers."

"You should've assumed!"

"I'm sorry."

"At least Maribelle says you'll only have a recovery time of a few days," She says, brushing his matted hair out of his eyes.

"That means you have to go to Plegia on your own," Chrom says, averting his eyes.

"No way. You can heal on the road. It takes a few days to get there, and you'll be mostly patched up. And it's not like Plegia is without healers, anyway."

"Fine. But if I die, it's your fault."

"Don't be stupid… what was it Maribelle called you? Troglodyte?"

"We're not going to speak of the slew of insults she said to me."

AN: This isn't edited properly so ;; also I'm aware this isn't as angsty as originally promised, but chapter 12 will (hopefully) be really emotionally draining. It's the bit I was aiming for, so!