A/N So this is standard. Kind of decent. Sorry for not updating regularly-this entire thing is completely fueled by emotion. Chapters don't come out until I feel like writing and feel that it's acceptable enough to be posted. A big part of why I write this stuff is because I don't want to end up like a playback, mindlessly copying down from the original game to make crappy stories. If I'm going to write trash, it's going to be damn acceptable trash. I don't own Fire Emblem or any of its alternate timeline forms.
He was lying on the bank of the river, screaming.
Chrom… Chrom, where was Chrom? He couldn't find him, no matter how hard he tried...
There was blood, so much blood. It was everywhere, on his face, in his hair, in his clothes. His hands were stained, yet he could hear a faint laughter, a manic cackling that ensnared him in its madness. WHERE WAS HE OH NAGA HELP HE WAS COMING CLOSER, YET CLOSER-
And then suddenly it was all gone.
Underneath he could feel the moist earth, at his head he could hear the soft gurgling of water, and at his feet he felt the coarse brush of grass, still laden with morning dew.
A calming atmosphere, yet he could feel his breathing coming heavily and his pulse racing. There was a coolness on his neck, behind his ears, his forehead that came from heavy sweating.
What… where am I? Why do I feel so… uneasy...
His eyes shot open, and was met with the sight of deep, verdant green stalks with brown cylinders on the end that resembled a feline's tail. Oh. A water sausage, he realized, calming down slightly. He felt his breathing slowly steady at the inconsequential fact, the cool air passing through his sore throat.
And though he knew that he should probably get up soon, he couldn't help but feel a growing sense of relaxation and peace. This was nice. Really nice. There were only the sounds of nature and feeling a kinship to the land. Almost nothing could shatter the moment. His tired eyelids fluttered shut.
He was soon corrected.
"Over here! I thought I heard something next to the river!" called out a high, girlish voice. There was a noisy rustling as the voice came closer. "...or someone. Oh. Oh no."
"Milady, please do not diverge from the group. I cannot fulfill my duty and protect you if you continuously insist upon running away." The speaker was definitely male, judging from the voice's deep tones. He sounded exasperated with the girl's behavior.
"What did you find, Lissa?" a third, curious voice asked. More rustling of grass.
"You're encouraging her, milord," said the second. Yes. Definitely exasperation. The man on the ground guiltily felt some mirth at the other's expense.
"I… I think I found a body," she answered nervously. The man could almost see her wringing her hands in habit, but he kept certainty at bay with eyes clamped shut. "That's terrible." The third voice. "Lissa, stay close to us. If he was slain by attackers, they may be lingering."
"Allow me, milord," said the second speaker. There was a clanking of metal then, and it increased in volume until it stopped at his head. The man could feel the distance between the second speaker and himself shrinking and decided that there really was no getting around this awkward situation.
He opened his eyes abruptly. "Hey," he said, smiling sheepishly. He came face to face with a strong jaw and dark brown eyes. The stern mouth of the second speaker twitched with surprise and then annoyance. "Well. He is alive." The lady behind him was more expressive, letting out a loud shriek.
The man on the ground tilted his head to see navy blue hair, kind eyes, and an exposed shoulder. There was a strange symbol coming from that arm, and it tugged at his memory, as if he should know its meaning.
The marked man maneuvered himself around the heavily-armored brunette. It was this arm that the other man offered to the previously-sleeping human. "Here give me your hand. There are better places to take a nap than on the ground, you know," the marked man chuckled.
He took the help. When their hands met, the man on the ground looked up, startled at the familiarity. If the navy-haired man felt similarly, he gave no outward sign.
The man on the ground had the strangest feeling. This felt so familiar. Was it apprehension? Relief? He couldn't tell.
He felt the need to clarify. "I, um… I'm sorry for the misunderstanding. I'm not really dead, as you all can see, and there isn't anyone lying in wait. I just… had a bad dream…" he trailed off. Come to think of it, he couldn't quite recall what he was dreaming about before his awakening. Or anything, really.
"It was never meant to be a jest, which in the context of what just happened, seemed to be in bad taste anyways. I'm very sorry, my lady," he ended formally, albeit a bit awkwardly. He suspected talking wasn't really his strong suit. His eyes never left the third speaker, but he could see the the third man rummaging through a bag behind her. "That's quite unfortunate concerning your dream, but at least we know there wasn't any real danger. Anyways," the blue-haired man interrupted, "we found this lying close by. Is this yours?"
He held up a dark cloak. It was embroidered and lined in gold, and along its edges were cryptic purple symbols in the shapes of eyes, just like the ones on his hand. At its head was a large hood.
It's yours.
He nodded. "Yes, it is. Thank you, Chrom," he heard himself say. He took the coat gratefully and slipped it over his shoulders. It took him a second to register the three confused looks directed at him.
"You dare to address Ylissean royalty in so casual a manner?" the brown-haired man growled. Chrom held up a hand in his direction. "Frederick, it is quite all right. You know I was never much for titles in the first place." He turned to Robin. "Still, I find it a little unfair that you know my name while I know nothing about you. What is your name?"
Robin, your name is Robin, said the little voice in his mind. It offered nothing else.
"...it's Robin," he finally responded. "I… I don't know much else about myself, so I guess we're pretty even here, Chrom. I can't seem to remember anything about you either, only that your name is Chrom. What's Ylisse?"
Why couldn't he remember anything, anything at all? He wracked his head for a reason, but still came up blank. Was it amnesia? His head felt fine, so it couldn't have been blunt force trauma, but there was no other explanation for the mysterious loss of memory, or the selective knowledge, such as Chrom's name.
Frederick grunted. "Milord, I like this man less and less. To forget the very country he lives in, whilst remembering only your name and his… he's obviously lying. He could be a Plegian spy-Naga knows Plegia has been causing all sorts of trouble recently."
"If he's spying, he's doing a really poor job of it. He's already forgotten the location of his assignment!" piped in the blonde. "I think he's fine, Frederick." She giggled and gave Robin a not-so-subtle thumbs up. He gave her a lopsided grin back, and was dimly aware of Frederick's glare.
"He is playing the fool!" Frederick interjected angrily. He moved protectively in front of the petite blonde. Chrom then stepped between the knight and Robin and placed a hand on Robin's shoulder.
"You see a spy, Frederick, but I see a man who is lost and needs help in this world. Perhaps we can take him with us, just until he finds his way." Ylisse's prince made eye contact with Robin. "You're not secretly working for Plegia against us, are you, Robin?" he asked semi-seriously.
Robin looked at him with confusion. He doesn't give a damn if I'm out to kill him, so long as I'm helpless like this. Is he always this trusting? he thought. Still, he shook his head. "What's Plegia?" he asked, both amused at the repeated question and frustrated at his own lack of information.
The prince searched Robin's face intently, before apparently finding what he was looking for. "You really don't remember anything… Well, there'll be time to answer your questions later. It's settled. You're coming with us!" announced Chrom triumphantly. "Yay!" cheered Lissa, pumping her fist in the air. Frederick only narrowed his eyes at the newcomer. I'm watching you, his brown eyes said.
It was with a purposeful glance that he responded with, yes. Please do. Robin could respect that, considering the man's job and affection for the . And thinking back on his time before the three's arrival… suffice it to say that the possibility of a malicious past wasn't ruled out.
"Robin! Are you going to walk anytime soon?" called Lissa. She had already pushed aside the tall grass in their exit. They all stopped to look at him.
He nodded reassuringly. "Yes, just give me a moment to wash up. Sleeping in the mud hasn't exactly done wonders to my complexion," he said, gesturing to the mud that caked the back of his head and neck.
"Oh, that makes sense!" replied Lissa brightly. "Go, go everyone!" she said, making a shooing motion at her brother and his friend. "We'll wait up ahead for you, Robin!"
"Thank you."
Once they were out of sight, Robin let out a long sigh. Truth be told, he was having mixed feelings about the whole situation and needed a little time to himself.
He walked over the river and gently kneeled away from the mud. He pushed his sleeves up to his elbows to reveal pale, somewhat thin arms. Cupping his hands, Robin brought water to his head. Freshwater and mud alike ran down his neck in rivulets, and he closed his eyes at the cooling sensation. With one last cupful, he splashed off the remaining dirt on his face.
When he reopened them, he saw his reflection.
His hair was a snowy color, bordering on blonde. His eyes were an unremarkable brown, until the sun hit them just right and he saw hints of green and black. His nose and mouth were average-sized, and his skin matched his arms. Pale, as if he spent the majority of his time indoors. His cheeks looked a little thin. I must not eat very well, he thought critically.
Overall, Robin looked like an average, run-of-the-mill guy. Nothing about him screamed danger, or posed a threat to anyone.
Relief. Good, he thought. That's all I can ask for, at least, for these kind people.
Feeling refreshed and a bit more confident in himself, he put his best face on and rejoined the others.
You're… different… this time… more… open.
Leave him alone.
We don't have a choice.