CHROM'S POV
You know when you're having those bad days when nothing good ever happens? I think today really classifies as a 'bad day'. The Fell Dragon was back, most of my army was scattered about the Longfort either tending to the wounded or stumbling blindly through the snowstorm, and did I mention the Fell Dragon was back?
At the moment, there was nothing to do but run. We would be too exposed if we marched back to Ylisse, so our only safe option (well, safest option. With the Fell Dragon alive you can't really be totally safe) was to seek shelter within the walls of Regna Ferox.
Luckily, the Longfort gates were already open. We hurried inside, only to be met by a patrol of Feroxi. "Ylisseans," the leader of the patrol spoke with a gruff urgency in his voice. "The Arena is the closest safe house for now. We will go there and relocate when necessary. Is your army intact?"
I shook my head. "We are missing a few people, but I think they are lost in the blizzard." I said, doing a quick head count. The patrol leader nodded. "Fujin," he beckoned to one of the Feroxi, who stepped forward. "Remain here and escort the stragglers to the Arena when they arrive." Fujin nodded and made a beeline for the probably warm confines of the guard station.
"Ylisseans, you will follow me." The patrol leader nodded to me and started trudging through the snowstorm. "After him, soldiers." I called, and we all began to march.
It was an uneventful march, really. Surprisingly enough nothing completely radical or astronomical happened. We didn't get attacked by the undead, or assaulted by barbarians, or shot from afar. If anything, the biggest concern was trying not to freeze my ass off.
However after an hour of half-marching half-slipping, we finally made it to the large wooden doors of the arena. The patrol leader beckoned us forward, and slammed his shoulder into the door, causing it to slowly creak inward. We ran inside, seeking asylum from the cold weather.
We all sat huddling in the center of the arena, not saying anything. I don't know about anyone else but I was thinking about ways that the day could be worse. Perhaps the Einherjar army could resurrect and attack the Arena, or Grima would bust through the ceiling and destroy us all with purple fire. Without the Fire Emblem or Robin, we were sitting ducks.
After a half hour, we all jumped into battle positions as the door slowly began to creak open again. I'm not going to lie, we were all freakishly paranoid. However, when Fujin stepped into the Arena, we all dropped our weapons.
"I have a straggler." He said, opening the door wider. A man in a dark blue cloak staggered in. He barely made it across the threshold before collapsing to the ground. "He isn't in very good shape." Fujin added, which I found a bit unnecessary.
"Lissa, come help me." I said. Lissa nodded and dashed to the stranger, staff in hand. Slowly, she turned the stranger onto their back and lifted the hood on their cloak. Upon seeing their face, she dropped her staff and backed up.
"Lissa, what's wrong?" I asked, stepping forward to take a look at the figure. Immediately I understood what the problem was. The person laying on the ground was Robin.
Jack's Corner
The plot thickens! Let's play my favorite game: How many times can I have Robin return and still have it be a surprise to a character? So far my ongoing record is three. Hooray! Anyway, aside from that I'd like to implement a little shameless self advertising and ask all fans of A:TLA to check out my new long-term fanfic if they so choose. Thank you! Anyway, the usual: Enjoy, review, favorite, follow etc. etc.