The Robin Variable Chapter 31: Consistent Amnesia Robin, a fire emblem fanfic

Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem Awakening, all rights to the owners.

The first chapter of Varied Awakenings is up. You'll start seeing some of those Other suggestions done there, as well as quirks applied to characters other than Robin, and whatever else crosses my mind.

Minor: Dark Flier, Immortal, Boxer (Pugilist), Exploitive, Swordmaster.

Standard: Elemental, Deaf, Foreign, Alien, Future sight, Tiny, Nurse/Medic, Valmese Tactician, Medusa, Goddess, Racer, Amazon, Genderfluid, Slime, Gift from Validar + evil to good, Mind Control, Banshee, Bard, Old, Dancer, Mimic, Emotionless, Khan, Savage, Crippling Overspecialization (Idiot Savant), Coward, ESP, PTSD, POW, Magician, Mute, Handicapped, Secret Helper, Crazy, Respawn, Morpher, MPD, Dreamwalker, Motherly, Lich, Twins, Regenerating, Sadist.

Unlikely: Chrom's child, Minotaur, Paladin, Werewolf, Assassin, Future Soldier, Bounty Hunter, Weather control, Kleptomaniac, Druid, Steampunk, Shadow Familiar, Magic Augmentation, Lucky, Exile, Piper (Charmer), Gladiator, Witch Doctor, Centaur, Drunk, Demon, Punk, Harpy, Revenant, Luck Manipulation, Demon Summoner, Megalomaniac, Kitsune, King of Plegia, Mood Ring.

Other: Pokemon Trainer, Self-insert, Second Generation replacement, Dimensional Walker.

Consistant Amnesia as suggested by IsThisWorking.

The man opens his eyes. The bed he's lying in is unfamiliar, the room is unfamiliar, everything is unfamiliar. He stares blankly at the ceiling for a minute, trying to recall what happened… and he can't. He doesn't remember anything: not what happened to him, not his past, not his parents, not his friends…

No, that's not true. He knows some things. His name is Robin and he's a tactician. He likes reading, learning new things, and playing chess.

"My favourite color is purple." Robin murmurs to himself, sitting upright. "Color… my eyes are… brown. Yes, my eyes are brown, my hair is brown. It's long, right?" He reaches up to grab his hair, and finds it does indeed go down to the small of his back. "Right, okay…"

He looks around the room, squinting against the bright sunlight shining through the window. The room is rather small with a large bookshelf taking up an entire wall. There's a finely crafted hardwood desk and chair next to it, with a small peach-coloured couch lying just off to the side, and a small closet. He has a small side-table, also hardwood, and… there's paper and quill on it?

Robin picks up the papers and reads them quietly to himself. "Robin, please complete the following survey, and then wait in your room for an escort to breakfast. Based on your usual rising time, breakfast should occur approximately half an hour after you wake."

The paper is signed 'Miriel'. Robin doesn't recognize the name. The checklist is surprisingly long, nearly two pages of questions. Some are simple, like: "what is your favourite color?" And some are more complex and frankly odd, such as: "Please explain, in as much detail as possible, the Darwin's theory of evolution."

Robin is surprised to find he does know a little about the theory. It's very minor, the only thing of significance he can recall is that when things reproduce they tend to pass on traits that do well because traits that don't do well tend to get you killed. The tactician has a feeling that he doesn't even recall half of the theory, because that seems far too simple for something that sounds so official.

At the end of the survey is another note. "Thank you for completing this survey. In order to ensure your responses were as unbiased as possible I withhold the following information from you: You are a chronic amnesiac, every morning you awake to find that you have forgotten your entire life. This information was withheld so that you did not feel compelled to feign improvement and therefor lie on the survey."

It's a very blunt note, with no apologies given for the deception. Robin doesn't feel particularly offended though, he can understand the logic behind the deception. This also helps explain a lot. Using this new knowledge Robin surmises that this room probably belongs to him. He expects that if he looks around he'll find clothes that fit him, the bookshelf will probably hold some strategy books, and he'll perhaps find a chess set stashed somewhere.

It's a bit disconcerting to think that he's probably had these exact same thoughts dozens of times before. He wonders if the him of yesterday was the same as he will be today. Maybe that man was cocky and arrogant, maybe he was timid and meek… or maybe he acts relatively the same every single time.

Maybe he shouldn't dwell on this. While he may feel like he's experiencing this for the first time he probably isn't, and seeing as he still has chronic amnesia he doubts those past bits of self-introspection have done him any good.

There's a knock on the door, and a female voice calls through it. "Robin, are you prepared for breakfast?"

Robin is about to say yes when he realizes he never actually got dressed. He's still in his nightclothes. "Just a moment."

The tactician moves quickly to the closet and pulls it open. All the outfits are identical: an intricate brown and gold longcoat, a plain white undershirt, thick beige pants, and sturdy brown boots. He puts on one of the outfits and moves to the door. Robin is very nervous about actually opening it, he knows that whoever this is will recognize him, but he won't recognize them.

Taking a deep breath, Robin opens the door.

"Good morning Robin, how does the day find you?" A red-haired lady with greyish-blue eyes, glasses, and bulky robes greets him.

"Well enough." Robin says cordially. "You're here to escort me to breakfast."

"Indeed. First though, I must enquire if you completed the survey found on your table." She says calmly. It sounds rehearsed, like she's done this dozens of times before.

"Yes I did." Robin nods. "Do you need it?"

"I would appreciate having it, yes." The woman says. "It is imperative I work with as much information as possible."

That gives the tactician pause. She needs as much information as possible? What does... Oh... "You're Miriel, aren't you?"

"Yes." The lady says curtly. "I require the completed survey for our continued studies on your condition."

Robin quickly grabs the paper and hands it to the lady. She accepts it with a nod, and then carefully folds the papers up and places them in her robes.

"Good. I will explain more over the course of our morning meal. Come." Miriel turns around swiftly and walks down the hallway, expecting Robin to follow. The tactician does follow of course, but he wonders absently if he ever hasn't. Was there one day where he just ignored her and walked the other way?

Maybe, but Robin supposes it doesn't really matter if he knows or not. He'll probably be having this same thought process tomorrow, and maybe he'll take the other path and maybe he won't, but the end result will always be the same: he won't remember what he did.

"Now I'm just depressing myself." Robin thinks, sighing. "I could just say everything is pointless with that logic."

The hallways are, of course, unfamiliar. The walls are simple stone, but adorned with tapestries and paintings. The tactician forces himself to not stop and stare at every single one. He's probably seen them dozens of times.

The dining room is smaller than he expected. From the stone walls and decorations he would have assumed they were in a castle… or maybe this is just a secondary dining area? There are a fair amount of people here though. A girl with light-brown hair and pink clothes, a blond, buff man without a shirt, a toned redhead, a cheery girl with blond pigtails, a really normally looking guy with olive-colored hair, and a tall black-haired guy sitting almost invisibly at the edge of the table.

"Morning you two!" The blonde girl chirps. "Sumia made breakfast today, you're both in for a treat!"

Miriel nods curtly, moving right for the food laid out on a smaller table at the side of the room. Robin trails along behind, feeling very lost among all these people chatting with each other and discussing plans. They're so familiar with one another, and Robin realizes he would be too if he didn't have this blasted amnesia. All these people don't react to seeing him, he's clearly a common sight here, but he doesn't know any of them.

He piles his plate with food, and takes the advice of the normal looking man when he suggests Robin try some of the pie. The tactician nods absently when people greet him, but can't bring himself to greet them back.

Miriel speaks as soon as they both take a seat. "We have a few items to attend to today. We have your usual memory activities to go through, including the piano. Then we shall review our progress and make decisions based on that."

Robin blinks owlishly. "Uh… sure."

"Should everything go according to plan, we shall finish just before dinner." Miriel says, adjusting her glasses. "That will give you approximately four hours to do as you wish before I suggest you retire for the night."

The tactician vaguely wonders if his schedule is dictated by Miriel every day. "Alright."

"Good. Do you have any questions?"

"Many. Most of which I am assuming you've heard before."

"Most likely."

"So I'm going to refrain from asking."

"As you wish." She says, pulling out a small journal and making a tick mark on the inside. The lady also begins writing notes. "However, do feel free to voice your thoughts. They provides valuable insight for our research."

"Sure." Robin mumbles, putting a forkful of food in his mouth. "If you say so Miriel."

###

"Weird…" Robin frowns, flipping over the last card. "Everything first try?"

The tactician was playing a simple matching game Miriel had set up. He flips over one card, and then another, and is supposed to find matching pairs and eventually remove all the cards… except he got every single match right away without any failures.

Miriel looks very satisfied. "Success. This provides evidence for my mother's theory of non-declarative memory…"

"How so?" The tactician asks, tilting his head.

"You spent the last week memorizing that exact pattern of cards and practiced flipping them over in a specific order." Mirel says, frantically scribbling notes. "And today, despite having no knowledge of the test and no recollection of the order you turned over the cards on previous days, you successfully flipped over the cards in the exact order you practiced on instinct."

"So how does this prove… uh… 'non-declarative' memory. No, first, what is non-declarative memory?"

"In simple terms it is muscle memory." The mage mutters, not looking up from her notes. "In much the same way you know how to walk without conscious effort, humans learn to do many things on instinct if they do said things often enough."

"Like eating?"

"Yes, but also things such as a soldier swinging a sword properly on instinct rather than needing to think about it. This memory task, having you flip cards over in a certain pattern, is the very same thing. It does not require knowledge, and therefore is not affected by your amnesia."

"Because if muscle memory was affected by amnesia, I wouldn't know how to walk…" Robin says, realizing what she's getting at. "Wow, that's clever."

"Many thanks." Miriel says, hardly paying attention to him. "However you will have to pardon me for a minute, I must record this."

"Ah, sure." Robin coughs.

It takes Miriel several minutes to finish her notes, and Robin has nothing to do but wait patiently. He vaguely wonders what else he's memorized since he… he… gods, he wonders how he even got here. Anyways, since he got here (however that may be) Robin wonders if he's memorized anything else beyond this card pattern.

"Finished." Miriel mutters with a final flick of her quill. "My apologies. This is very good news."

"I have a question."

"Yes?"

"Can I only remember muscle memory?" Robin asks. "I mean, uh… non-declarative information?"

"No." Miriel says simply. "Contrary to many, many other cases of anterograde amnesia (although you are a case of both anterograde and retrograde) you seem to have a very limited capacity to remember information day to day."

The tactician blinks rapidly. "Really?"

"It takes many repetitions, but you have slowly learned to remember that your favourite color is purple and that you enjoy chess." Miriel says.

"That seems very unlikely." Robin says suspiciously.

"I can prove it." The mage responds, and moves over to a stack of drawers. She pulls open the top one and pulls out a piece of paper. "Here, this is the fifth survey you ever took. About seven months ago."

Robin scans it quickly, and is surprised to find that Miriel isn't lying. He recognizes his own handwriting, and when the question "what is your favourite colour?" comes up the answer written down is "I don't know." Similarly, the older survey also asks about Darwin's theory of evolution and instead of writing something about natural selection he has again written "I don't know."

"See?" Miriel murmurs. "You are learning, albeit slowly. Moreover your level of memory retention is improving every month. It used to take an entire month for you to recall even a small piece of information, but nowadays you are recalling small bits after only a few days of memorization. You only started learning chess a week ago, and yet in the survey today you wrote that it was your favourite game despite not knowing it existed a week ago."

"Huh…"

"My mother also had a theory on that." The mage adds softly. "Neuroplasticity she called it. The ability of our brains to remake themselves upon suffering damage to regain or compensate for lost functionality… among other things."

"Wow."

"That being said, you are a very odd case among amnesiacs, so perhaps it is wrong with me to assume neuroplasticity has anything to do with your case." Miriel admits. "For all I am aware, your amnesia is magic, and your improvement is due to your body developing a resistance to the magic. Or perhaps there is a problem with your body's chemicals and not it's structure."

"Do you think I'll recover?" Robin asks, hoping for some good news.

"I think it is a possibility." The mage says slowly. "However, I suspect it will take many years, and you will not likely regain anything you have lost."

"Better than nothing." Robin sighs. Tentatively, he smiles at her. "I hate that I'm not going to remember you tomorrow."

Miriel gives a tired smile in return. "I appreciate the sentiment."

The tacitican pauses, eyes narrowing. "I've said this before, haven't I?"

"A few times. This is one of the more rare outcomes." The mage admits.

Robin sighs. "Right, of course."

"Let us move on then." The mage murmurs.

###

Robin doesn't know what to do in his free time because he knows it doesn't matter. He could read a book only to forget the contents, or play chess only to not remember what he learned.

No, no, Robin has another idea. Miriel says he has limited recollection, right? So far he's been remembering pointless things like his favourite colour, but he should theoretically be able to remember something more relevant, such as, say, Miriel's name.

That's why, for the entirety of his four free hours, Robin spends his time trying to program his own brain to remember her. Maybe, he thinks, if he associates her name with a particular action then doing that action may prompt him to remember the name tomorrow.

He chooses an action that is slightly out of normal. Robin opens his dresser, stares for a few seconds, and then walks to the bookshelf and firmly utters the mage's name. He feels like a moron doing this, and he doesn't know if it will help, but on the extremely off chance this works he does it again and again.

Eventually he has to go to bed though. Robin feels like he should be fighting sleep, but he knows it's pointless. The last thing he sees before going to bed is the survey he put on his side-table for tomorrow, and then he closes his eyes and waits for sleep to come.

###

No, that's not true. He knows some things. His name is Robin and he's a tactician. He likes reading, learning new things, and playing chess.

No point in dwelling on this though. Robin realizes he should probably get dressed. He walks over to the dresser, opens it, and then pauses.

"There's something…" He frowns, trying to think. "Did I leave something on the bookshelf?"

It's a very random feeling, Robin doesn't know why this is occuring to him now of all times, but he gives in and walks over to the bookshelf. Of course, there's nothing there of note.

"Weird." He mumbles. "Whatever. Time to get dressed."

He dresses quickly, and a female voice calls to him from outside. He opens the door to find a red-haired mage with glasses standing there. They share a brief conversation, and Robin hands her the survey.

As they're walking to breakfast though, he's struck by a thought.

"Miriel… that's quite a nice name."

Well this is a slightly depressing chapter. I like it though.

Mram99: That's fair. I have several pairings that don't really click with me either for no particular reason. Stahl was strange to write because I found myself constantly talking about food despite knowing he had other character traits. Also yes, that really does sound like an end piece. I'll keep it in mind I suppose, but we're not even halfway through my list of ideas yet.

CorEagle: Gun Robin has already been done (see Captain Robin) and I've added Luck Robin to the list.

Darkness is complete: Added Demon Summoner to the list.

Vanderspiegel: I really like that idea. I'll have to keep it for a milestone of some sort.

Guest (X2): Samurai, Megalomaniac, and Kitsune are all fine.

Makeanotherone: King/Queen is unlikely, Ancient, Naga, and Scientist are a no-go, and Dimensional Walker is going to fall under Other.

IsThisWorking: Snek.

Guest: Sure, I'll put on the list.

Ren-A-Gade: So Twin Robins of opposite genders? Sure.

ARSLOTHES: Already done that. Giantess Robin is a thing.

Guest (X3): That's a crossover, so no, not in this story, and I've already got an idea for MPD (or DID as you wish) so I'm saying no to the sneeze thing. Drunk is already on the list, and I'll add sadist too.