Chapter 6

Plegian Midmire

Rain cascaded down heavily and the stench of mud and blood permeated through the air. The Shepherds had been caught on their way out of the desert nation in a ruined canyon with Plegian soldiers at their heels like wild animals to their prey. The fighting was fierce and unforgiving on everyone. No one wanted to surrender to the opposition, even if it meant living was guaranteed, as the enemy general had promised to take the Ylisseans under his protection. Hatred and spite overrode such generosity on the latters side, and another battle ensued. Bodies lay strewn across the muddy wasteland and just as many injured comrades. The last of the Plegians were beginning to retreat, whether out of fear or simply because they wished to fight no longer. The Shepherds were no better off however. None had died during the fight, but casualties were staggering. Some were helping their fallen friends walk forward, pushing themselves to continue the fight.

Robin was among the injured. It seemed that no matter how hard he tried, he simply could not escape from being targeted. He overheard one of the soldiers speak of how Gangrel wanted his head on a pike for a king's ransom in exchange. The white-haired tactician had been running for his life the entire battle, unwilling to fight. He would have survived as well, if not for a surprise attack by a Wyvern Rider, who managed to gravely injure him. As Robin lay with his back in the mud, watching as the bloodied lance of his opponent slowly raise to the air for the fatal blow, his vision began to blur, as if to say his body wished not to witness its own demise.

However, just before the final blow was struck, somehow, the soldier dropped from his stead, blood spurting from his neck onto Robin. The wyvern he was perched on then flew away, no doubt spooked by its master's demise. Robin rubbed his eyes, for clarity, to see Virion stand before him with an outstretched arm. He looked to the fallen Plegian and noticed an arrow piercing through the back of his neck. Never had be been so glad to see the nobelman in his life. Even though the archer had offered his aid, Robin held his uninjured arm over the grievous wound from the lance that ran him through. The pain was ungodly, as it had struck the same wound that had been patched up before.

"Virion... leave me." Robin choked out, laying his head down, and pulling his hood over his head. He didn't want an ally to see his face as he died running away like a coward. But he was surprised to feel his body being forced up from his bloody hand, which was then draped over the nobelman's shoulder. Robin was utterly confused as to why anyone would continue on after seeing such a grisly display. "W-Why?" he asked.

A cocky smile curled at Virion's lips as he carried his tactician through the deep mud. "You and I are not so different, my friend. For, I too, once fought on a deadly battlefield and fled from my comrades." he grunted, trying to support Robin's weight and walk forward. Robin was still a bit confused, however. Virion told this story once to him before... as well as other risque tales. "But... I'll not stand by and watch as another ally of mine falls to these barbarians."

The two walked through the canyon, under the cover of the large bones that dotted the area, and the high stone walls. Eventually they settled down under a hanging cliff, protected from the rain. Robin's wound flared up as he knelt down. He looked up to Virion and noticed that he was also bleeding at around the same place that he was. He lifted a hand to point it out to him, "Y-You're injured..." he murmured.

The noble only chuckled at Robin's concern. "Fear not. 'Tis only a scratch, my boy!" It seemed whatever wounds he had wasn't slowing him down. Instead, they only served for him to work harder. Looking into the torrent, Virion brought two of his gloved fingers to his lips and whistled loudly for assistance. Thankfully, the enemy numbers had been cut down almost entirely, so it was not likely an enemy would be alerted to their position. Whoever had come to help was a mystery to Robin however. The loss of blood from his wound was enough for him to slowly lose consciousness. He cursed himself for once again being a burden to his fellow soldiers, and fell to his side, gripping at his wounds. While the help was on it's way, Virion, gave Robin a light slap to keep him awake. "Do try to stay alive. Your duty is not done here." he said, with a joking tone. Despite Virion's words, Robin's body betrayed his will and slowly his vision slipped into darkness.

An untold amount of hours later, the Shepherds had been able to safely return to Regna Ferox after their ordeals. Chrom wished to address things with his comrades in the Khan's throne room in about an hour, giving his troops some time to themselves to think. That was not the only reason, however. Since they arrived, the prince had just recently gotten word of the large bounty on Robin's head. Apparently, Gangrel was beginning to realize the strategist's value to the Shepherds, and came to the conclusion that their force would fall apart if he took out their "secret weapon". Word was sent to most every Plegian troop who still served the mad king. Most of them had all but deserted after witnessing Emmeryn's noble sacrifice.

In one of the many medical barracks, Robin was resting from his grevious wound he sustained. A strike from a lance was bad enough, but the point of where it struck aggrivated an old wound he recieved, causing much more harm than normal. Suffice it to say, it took quite a few resources to ensure his survival, and thank the Gods he recieved aid in time. If not for Virion, Robin would have surely bled out in the miserable rain.

Soon, the tactician began to stir from his injury induced coma. As expected, his limbs were stiff and the scent of medical supplies wafted heavily in the air. He could hear voices just next to him conversing. On what it was about, he could not say. It all sounded like incoherent mumbling at the moment. He propped his body up on his elbows and slowly opened his eyes. His blurry vision could barely make out the person just in front on him: A soft face, and long blonde hair. Robin knew who it was, even if he couldn't fully see yet. Once he was able to hold his body up, he rubbed his eyes for better visual clarity. The person before him opened their mouth to speak before being silenced by Robin placing a hand on their shoulder.

"Hey, Maribelle... Sorry if I worried you again." he said sheepishly. "I ran into some unavoidable trouble and it lead to this. I swear to you, I wasn't being reckless this time. Please don't be mad." Silence. His vision had returned by then, but Robin had his head bowed, not seeing the person he was speaking to. "You really are that upset with me, huh...?"

The voice next to him chimed in with a nervous tone accompanying them. "Beg pardon, dear boy. But you may be mista-" they started before being cut off.

"No, Virion." Robin interjected. "Maribelle told me that she would never forgive me if I had gotten hurt again. Please, just let me explain."

"Er, but..."

Before Virion could continue, Robin raised his head to meet the person before him eye-to-eye. When he gazed upon the feminine face of the one just in front of him. His face grew bright red and his eyes widened: This was NOT Maribelle...

The one before him eas a man. Androgynous, yes, but definitely a man. And now that Robin had visual confirmation, he also realized that this man's shoulder was actually quite masculine. "Oh, do go on. I was quite enthralled in this little speech, sir." they said, a dark laugh leaving their mouth.

Robin withdrew his shaking arm back to him, flushed face growing all the more redder. He concealed his face behind his hands and mumbled into them, "Oh. My. Gods..." and shook his head rapidly, trying to forget the terrible mistake he had just comitted. He had never done something so embarrassing in his entire life, and it was no doubt equally embaarrassing for the person involved. "I am SO sorry!" he said, refusing to look at the man before him.

The man and Virion loooked at each other briefly, sharing a bit of a strained glance before returning their eyes to Robin. Virion couldn't help but laugh at his friend's misfortune. Placing his hand at his chin and the other on Robin's back, he sought to console him. "Worry not, friend. For even I, the noble hawkeyed Virion, was also very briefly fooled by Libra's undoubtedly feminine features."

Libra rolled his eyes at the archer's misplaced positive attitude and crossed his arms, leaning back on the crate he currently occupied. "Indeed he did. However, unlike him, you have yet to make an attempt at wooing me with words of passion, sir." he said, staring back at Virion, his gentle eyes turning less-than-gentle.

Slowly, Robin turned his head up to Virion, left eye twitching at the very disturbing image of Virion 'wooing' Libra. He was very familiar was the man's verbal flights of fancy, but this was just... wrong. He cringed once again before finding a response within him that he mentally tried to word properly, "Ugh, Virion... you didn't!" was all he could manage.

Virion had a blush of his own growing on his face. He crossed his arms and looked away, in a vain attempt at trying to hid his own folly. "Lest we forget you were also mistaken!" he mumbled, trying to sound serious.

"Maybe, but I'm not the one who went so far as to speak to the man as if i planned on courting him!" Robin shot back.

The two men bickered for a while,, with Libra sitting back and simply waiting for it to be over. As embarrased as they were, he wasn't exactly enjoying the subject of his features. He was able to subtly bring the argument to a close by roughly coughing into his fist. The two came back to reality and noticed Libra sitting patiently while they were at each other's throats. They fell back in line, silencing themselves. The priest stood up from his crate and looked at Robin's bandaged injuries. His mid region was practically fully bandaged by this point. "Well, Robin, after much time and effort, you will certainly live. However, I highly recommend sitting the rest of the campaign out. Your body has gotten to the point that it cannot possibly sustain itself on the battlefield."

Robin sank in his seat upon receiving the news. He had certainly done it this time. His carelessness had practically ended his role in the war as it were. Nevertheless, he was unwilling to simply sit down and accept defeat. They were so close. He couldn't allow himself to back down now. Not when his comrades had bled just as bad as he had.

He reached his hand out to Virion in assistance. The noble obliged and helped him to his feet. Robin noticed his body was significantly harder to carry now. His wound roared to life, sending a terrible pinch through him. Sucking in air between his teeth, he sat back down, unable to take the pain. Libra shook his head at Robin's stubborn efforts. He had heard word from the others that he was quite determined in his work, but he hoped against hope that his determination would not carry over to foolishness.

"If you'll not listen to me, sir, I do have another that you could speak with." Libra said. Without waiting for Robin's confirmation, he began to walk away. "Although, I can't guarantee that their time with you will be as painless as it was with me." With that ominous tone and never confirming who this person was, Libra left the tactician and noble alone, exiting the barracks and letting in the person who would speak with the former.

In stepped Maribelle of all people. She was carrying a knitted bag with her, which she dropped by the entrance on her way in. Her expression was sour beyond words. Her brows were furrowed and she held her parasol between her fingers, twisting and contorting it back and forth as she walked. Once again, Robin sank in his seat. In truth, he expected someone like Maribelle to be the one to chastise him on his injuries and behavior on the battlefield. With her being the go-to person when it came to Robin, it was simply a matter of seconds before she would be informed of it. He readied himself for whatever verbal abuse she would deal out. Hopefully Virion would be around to defend him if she laid into him too hard.

The noblewoman walked to the two and sat on the same crate Libra previously occupied. She crossed one leg over the other and stared at Robin pensively. Her lower lip was curled inward and her head was raised slightly, looking down her nose at the pathetic injured man that sat before her. Those russet-brown eyes of hers burrowed into Robin, enough to churn his stomach in nervousness. Robin briefly thought of trying to apologizing for what happened. He reached his hand out to explain himself but the moment it came up from his lap, Maribelle pointed the end of her parasol at Robin. It was pressed at the very tip of Robin's nose and the noblewoman shushed him quite before he began speaking.

Again, she stared at him, saying nothing. Internally, she was suppressing the urge to yell and scream at the top of her lungs. A struggle that occasionally nearly rose to the surface. Her lips reflected that as they twitched and moved as if she was already mouthing the words of the many things she would call him. Through it all, Robin was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. He didn't even want to ask if she would speak. He was that afraid of what she would say... or do.

The silence was broken by Maribelle slamming the pointed end of her parasol into the floor, sending a startling *clack* through the empty building. She held it before her as if it were a makeshift cane. Without breaking her sight from Robin, she spoke in a low voice, "Virion. Leave the room."

Robin looked up to his friend with a pleading look as if to beg him to not leave. He really didn't want to be alone with Maribelle. He doubted she would do anything to physically harm him, but mentally or emotionally, that was a different story. Her tounge was as sharp as any sword. A claim he could make with full confidence.

Despite Robin's silent plea, Virion elected to leave the two in peace. There were some battles that even the archest archer would not participate in. Patting Robin sympathetically on the shoulder, Virion took his leave. With no one there to break the tension between the two, the atmosphere around Robin and Maribelle was just as chilling outside in the snow as it was inside. When the smal of the doors echoed through the barracks, Maribelle rose up from her seat, looking down on Robin still, albeit literally. Robin couldn't even see Maribelle in the eye, instead, his head stayed where it was, eyes falling on the pink heart shaped buttons that wrapped around her mid section, keeping her outfit together. He held his breath in anticipation for her to begin another tirade.

Contrary to his decision to keep eye contact to a minimum, Robin couldn't help but feel his head gravitating upward. He could feel something cold and hard press against his throat. He would have swallowed in nervousness, but he couldn't from the object pressing against him. His head wasn't rising of his own volition; Maribelle had placed the tip of her parasol at Robin's chin and forced his head upwards to look at her with it. The act sent a chill of panic down Robin's spine. It almost felt like she had a sword at his throat to cut him down.

Even if the tactician wanted to say anything now, he couldn't. The pressure on his throat was enough to suppress his ability to speak. If he tried to pull himself away, she would only press forward. At this point, Robin was genuinely afraid of what she would do. His eyes shifted left and right, hoping there would be someone around to help if things went even further south. He was brought out of his thoughts when he finally heard Maribelle speak.

"You have no idea how things have gone for you, do you?" she asked. Her voice was low and threatening. Nothing like the Maribelle that everyone knew.

"Er... Well, I know I've gotten everyone worried, if that's what you mean?" Robin said. It was an attempt to make a joke and lighten the mood between then. A poor attempt that that. Maribelle was having none of it, and when he flashed that half-hearted, crooked smile at her, her patience wore down to it's last. In a move that Robin didn't expect, the noble struck him across the face quite hard with her gloved hand. The sound of her slap rang through the empty room. She had removed her parasol from his throat, and waved her hand about a little bit, as her strike had also hurt her delicate hand. A red hand print marked Robin's face. His eyes were wide with shock at how Maribelle even brought herself to do that, and make it sting quite a lot at that. He rached a hand up to touch the burning spot on his face, only for another slap to be delivered on the other cheek.

Two red hand prints were emblazened across the tactician's now strawberry face. He leaned forward, lightly pressing his fingers on either side of his face. "Okay... I suppose I deserve those. But, Gods, if that didn't hurt as all the seven Hells!" he mumbled under his breath.

"Those were for confusing me for Libra. THIS is for yet again nearly throwing your life away!" As quickly as her slaps hit Robin, another blow, this time to the top of his head was delivered. However hard she struck his cheeks was nothing compared to the one she gave him now. Instantly, Robin's hands went from his cheeks to his head, clutching it with trembling hands.

"Okay, okay! I'm sorry! Please don't hit me again!" he squealed. He cringed and shuffled backwards to try and avoid any future assault. He was prepared to have his ear bitten off, metaphorically. He didn't want to risk the literal meaning.

A grumbling sigh erupted from the noblewoman's lungs and she dropped down to her seat again. Her posture was a bit lopsided, but she corrected herself quickly. The only thing she could think of right now was a nice cup of elderberry tea to calm her flared nerves. It seemed like every single day after she met Robin was filled with frustration, and all because of his reckless insistance on rushing into the thick of battle. He was the tactician of the Shepherds. He history always mandated a tactician would stay off the battlefield for self preservation's sake. Yet she simply could not comprehend why he would willingly put his life on the line. If he were cut down, that would be it for them. She was well aware that they only made it this far because of him.

Another long silence overtook them. The entire time, Robin wondered what other things the blonde woman would say to him. Nothing he hadn't heard already no doubt.

"I apologize." Maribelle sighed. Robin raised his head cautiously when those words rang in his ears. He couldn't believe what he had heard. Maribelle leaned back as well when she caught that piercing gaze she was recieving, as if Robin mistook her for some creature that crawled from the dark depths of the earth. "Wipe that look from your face!" she barked. "I'm not so high and mighty that I cannot extend a word of apology when I know I've been wrong..."

Yet another thing he never thought he would hear from Maribelle. She had never admitted to being wrong about anything- not that she usually was, mind you- and that tone of slight remorse after those powerful blows was like the graces of a Mend Staff after a particularly harsh battle.

"Well... I accept your apology. But what are you apologizing for?"

The noblewoman planted her parasol, point side down and rested her palms on the handle. "As odd as it sounds, I apologize for striking you. Not for the slaps of course, I stand by those proudly." she said, flashing a devilish smirk. "I know very well why it is you've gotten injured. It was beyond your control that time." She got up from her seat and walked over to a small bag she left by the door on her way in. From it, she pulled a newly sewn cotton shirt and Robin's familiar black cloak, now clean and free of mud. She walked back over to the tactician and handed him his garments. "Hurry and dress yourself. Chrom has ordered a meeting with all the Shepherds at Khan Flavia's throne room. And..." she trailed off.

Robin carefully pulled his shirt over his head, making sure not to agitate his latest wound, then draped his cleaned cloak over his shoulders. It smelled rather nice. Familiar even. He couldn't help himself from pulling the side of his hood to his nost and taking in the pleasant, floral scent. Then it hit him: His cloak smelled exactly like the perfume that Maribelle favored. She must have taken care of cleaning his garments after he lost conciousness. He was able to tear himself away from the relaxing scent and looked back to Maribelle, waiting for her to continue her sentence.

"...I'm asking Chrom to take you off the field for the rest of the campaign..." she said, her eyes breaking away from his. Robin couldn't help but be taken aback from her statement. He honestly couldn't comprehend why she would want him to discontinue fighting alongside his comrades.

"Maribelle... why?" he asked, almost pleadingly. His calm eyes now racked with utter confusion.

"You cannot fight with the way you are now. Any more injuries and I fear you'll be beyond even the finest Cleric's help next time." she stated bluntly. She turned away from him completely, resting her parasol on her shoulder and slowly walked away from him to the barrack's exit. "You still have your duties as tactician, and that is all you should be able to do for now. There shall be no more fighting for you."

Robin struggled a bit to rise from his sickbed, his injury shooting another jolt of pain through his abdominal area. He clenched his teeth and fought through the pain, edging himself on sheer willpower to reach the noblewoman. "But Maribelle, you can't-"

He was interrupted by Maribelle turning on her heel quickly, her earlier frustrated expression returning. "There will be no debate on this!" she shouted. "You are NOT to set foot on the grounds of battle throughout the rest of this war, or Gods so help me I'll tie you to my stead and drag you off myself!" Not even giving Robin a chance to give a response, she stormed out of the building, and slammed the door loudly. Robin only stod there, still confused on how anyone could exclude him from his duty as a Shepherd. His thoughts did not last, as he felt the pain of his injuries escalating again. He held a hand over the wound, feeling the bandages moisten with blood. Perhaps it was for the best that he withdrew...

A/N: Well, well, well! What be this, then? Yes, for all the fans who are probably lining up to take a leak in my mailbox, I have finally returned to this long hiatus'd fanfic! I have to apologize for that, actually. Got a bit too caught up with my other one, and decided to silently put this one to bed for now. BUT, since that one is almost finished, I thought it was high time I continued with this one. To be honest though, part of the reason this took longer than it should have was because I ended up scrapping the chapter when I originally finished it. The reason was because it came off as way to angsty, and I decided that was probably not the best choice to go. Instead, you get to see Robin getting b1tch slapped by Maribelle for a change! So for all of you who desperately wanted to see this continue, wish granted! You all know I'd never leave you hanging, right?

...Right?

Aaaanyway, I appreciate all of your patience for this and hope you will enjoy the continuation of this fanfic!