Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem Awakening, all rights to the owners.
Minor: Dark Flier, Immortal, Boxer (Pugilist), Exploitive, Swordmaster, Angry Cinnamon Roll, Tripping, Perpetual Cheer, Chef, Blacksmith, Pegasus Knight, Teacher, Librarian, Masochist, Literal-Minded, Authoritative, Middle Age.
Standard: Elemental, Deaf, Foreign, Future sight, Tiny, Nurse/Medic, Valmese Tactician, Medusa, Racer, Amazon, Genderfluid, Gift from Validar + evil to good, Mind Control, Banshee, Bard, Dancer, Mimic, Emotionless, Khan, Crippling Overspecialization (Idiot Savant), Coward, ESP, PTSD, POW, Magician, Mute, Savage, Handicapped, Secret Helper, Crazy, Respawn, MPD, Morpher, Dreamwalker, Motherly, Lich, Twins, Regenerating, Sadist, Animal Whisperer (horse/wyvern), Naga/Tiki Assistant, Sleepless, Goddess, Plant, Fairy.
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, Reverse Aging, Hammerspace, Prostitute, Demon hunter, Cyborg, Maid/Servant/Butler, Deadlord, Rebellion, Einherjar, Trap, Yandere, Living Weapon, Size Shifter, Queen of Plegia, Gluttonous, Stretchy, Ninja, Alchemist.
Other: Pokemon Trainer, Self-insert, Second Generation replacement, Dimensional Walker, Cycle, Fates.
This is Old Robin, requested by Rotciv557 and Ocharlos. Admittedly this quirk doesn't change nearly as much as I expected. Old Robin is very much like normal Robin. It was really hard to not write in first person this entire chapter, and I don't know why.
Robin wakes up. He glances at his tent flap, frowning at the sight of the night sky. Soft footsteps pad on the dirt nearby with the tell-tale clanking of armor.
Frederick's up early, again.
Sometimes the tactician hates being a light sleeper. It's the natural result of living through two wars, constantly on guard for ambush when forced to sleep in the field. Tactician he may be, but Robin never slept in a cozy tent distant from the frontlines. He brought this on himself he supposes, but he would never say he regrets it.
"Gods kid, can't you just sleep in like a normal person?" The man groans, pushing himself out of his bedroll. He throws on his cloak: a tattered garment that proudly shows its history of slashes and burns in the form of numerous stitches and patches. This is his second, the first was destroyed in the Ylisse-Plegia religious war ten years ago by an enemy sage. It saved his life, giving him just enough protection to throw it off and avoid being killed by the fire that burned along his back
The white-haired man pushes out into camp, grimacing at the cold of the Plegian desert while the sun is down. It's familiar, but that doesn't make it comfortable.
"Ah, Sir Robin." Frederick greets quietly, having noticed him immediately. "My pardon if I woke you."
"Up early?" Robin asks, stretching. He glances around, seeing no other Shepherd awake besides the guards (Sully and Stahl). "What are you doing?"
"Doing my weapon drills." The knight says simply. "I was on my way to the training area."
"Doing drills by choice first thing in the morning?" Robin snorts. "Gee, what a great idea."
"Not just drills." Frederick says proudly, missing Robin's sarcasm."I also exercised, stoked the fire for breakfast, prepared tea for milord, and consumed one egg."
"And you do this every morning?"
"Indeed."
"And you go to sleep later than everyone else?" The tactician asks flatly.
"Well yes…" Frederick says slowly, starting to realize Robin's disapproval.
"You're a maniac kid." Robin sighs. "That ain't enough sleep for a soldier."
"With all due respect Sir Robin, Milord bears a far heavier burden than myself. If I can be of service with extra work, it is my duty to do so."
"Actually, I'm fairly sure it's not." The older man says flatly. "I have a copy of your retainer contract and Shepherd contract, and both say nothing about unnecessary extra work unless ordered to, which you haven't been."
"I do not mean literally." The knight responds curtly. "It is my duty as a good man."
"Still-"
"Gooday Robin. I must be off."
Robin watches the man walk off to the training area and shakes his head. "Now that is a dam waiting to burst."
###
"Never thought I'd be on this side if another war rolled around…" Robin mutters, pouring two a glasses of wine.
"Then why are you?" Chrom asks, accepting a glass. He downs it in one swig and pours himself another. "Gods, today was horrible."
The old man nods absently, swirling his drink in the glass. "Gangrel has the wrong of it, I suppose that's why I'm here and not booking it back to Plegia. Both of the other times Ylisse was the aggressor, and they were in the wrong. This time it's Plegia, all thanks to the Mad King."
"So we get another war." The prince grimaces. "I had hoped to never be on the front lines of one, I was too young during the last one, but fate cares little for my wishes."
"Smart man to never hope for war." Robin murmurs. "Too many young men wish for it, dream of it. They hope for glory and money and victory for their country. Instead they get blood, tears, permanent injuries, and a pittance in pay compared to what their service deserves."
"Bandits were dangerous enough, but professional soldiers? I'm not sure…" Chrom trails off. "People die in war Robin. I don't want to lose one of the Shepherds."
"I can't say no one has died under my watch." The old man admits reluctantly. "Mostly when I was young, foolish, but even in the final days of the last war I still lost people. I can do my best for us, but I'm only a man…"
They both fall into solemn silence, nursing their drinks. Eventually Chrom gets up and nods respectfully before saying. "I'm going to find Sumia."
Robin nods. He understands. Today was a terrible day, and the touch of a close friend is always comforting. The emotional overload is also probably why Chrom admits such a thing out loud, he's too drained to be abashed.
The tactician once had a dream of finding someone. It never manifested though. A combination of Robin lacking non-war-related skills and being nearly thirty after the first war was over meant he'd missed the prime of his life. Sure he was rich enough to attract suitors even now, but they were all too young. Robin has standards he holds himself to after all.
Sighing, the man gets up and grabs his coat. He should go to bed soon or his joints will ache in the morning. He'd just dwell on his own problems if he stayed up anyways.
###
"You asked to see me?" Frederick asks, ducking inside the tent.
"Yes, I did." Robin says seriously. "Sit down, please."
The knight does so. He sits perfectly straight with hands linked patiently in front of him.
"Now…" Robin says slowly, flipping to the right page in his notepad. "I've noticed a bit of a problem with your behaviour."
"Truly?" Frederick asks, raising an eyebrow. "If this is about those posters again-"
"No, no, not those." The tactician huffs. "I speak of your fanaticism towards your leiges. It's becoming problematic."
"How so?"
"You're taking stupid risks in battle Frederick." Robin says bluntly. "You're putting yourself at risk, blocking every attack for everyone. You can't do everything at once!"
"Of course I don't, I leave the distance strikes to our mages and Virion." Frederick scoffs.
"Frederick…" Robin says in a warning tone. "Don't play stupid with me. You know what I mean."
"Yes, I do." The knight admits. "However, I think I have done fairly well all things considered. There is only a risk to myself and not the others, which is more than acceptable."
The tactician decidedly does not like that. "Yeah… about that. You're sorta wrong. Doing what you're doing is a great way to get yourself killed by running around the field like a maniac. You're going to exhaust yourself Frederick."
"It it my job to be the shield of the Shepherds." Frederick says sternly. "So long as I die saving the others, I have done my duty."
"That's not in your contracts." Robin responds, equally stern. "We need you alive, and the others can handle themselves. I don't put them in positions they can't deal with Frederick, or do you not trust my tactics?"
"I do…" The man says slowly. "But I cannot fail them as their protector, and if that means running around the field like a maniac so be it."
"A protector is only useful so long as he's alive to do the protecting."
"And if he's alive because his charge is dead he's worse than useless, he's a failure!" Frederick barks back with unusual venom. "If his liege or his comrades suffer a permanent injury because of his inability to protect them, he has failed!"
"Not always." Robin responds. He takes a deep calming breath, and continues. "Most of the time I would agree, if you liege dies in your care, it's your fault. However during war, or at least on the battlefield, he is not in your care. He is in mine. I am the tactician, you just follow orders. Your comrades are similarly not in your care. People die during battles Frederick, you can't always stop it, and when it happens it won't be your fault."
The muscles in his jaw bulge as he grinds his teeth. "I refuse to believe that. If a Shepherd is injured, then it is my fault for not being there to protect them."
"That's just stupid. This is war, shit happens." Robin says bluntly. "You're too smart for this Frederick, stop degrading yourself with such a childish way of thinking."
The man looks furious, and speaks in a low growl. "No. You Sir, are speaking out of turn. It is not your place to tell me what is truth and what is otherwise. I know my duty, even if you do not."
He stands up, and marches out of the tent.
###
"So yeah, that's the problem." Robin sighs, flipping through his notes. "I don't know what to do about him. You know Frederick better than me Chrom, what do you think?"
"Frederick… has failed before." Chrom says slowly. He taps the wooden table nervously, the boy dislikes talking about others' personal details behind their backs. "Well, to say he failed is a bit of an exaggeration. He looked away at just the wrong moment, and the bandit took that opportunity to strike at Lissa."
"Lissa got injured?" Robin asks, frowning. "No, she seems fine… captured then?"
"Neither." Chrom shakes his head. "Someone else took the hit for her. He lost his leg and hasn't been in battle since."
"Emmet." The tactician says. "Well, that answers that question. I've always wondered why he got that wooden leg…"
"Well now you know." The prince grimaces. "Emmet aside, Frederick became much more fanatic after that. He was always overly serious, but after that happened he became… worse."
"How long ago was this?" Robin pushes.
"A year before we found you." Chrom murmurs. "Two years ago."
"Hmm…" The white-haired frowns. He scratches at the stubble on his face, thinking. "Did those two ever have a confrontation?"
"That's a question for one of them." The prince says firmly. "I don't claim to know everything, and I shouldn't speak in their stead."
###
"I need to talk with you." Robin says, not bothering with pleasantries.
"Inventory is almost done." The man responds dryly, not even bothering to turn and look at the tactician.
"Not about the inventory." The older man clarifies.
Emmet gives something that's halfway between a sigh and a growl. He turns and regards Robin with a distinctly unimpressed look. "What?"
"Did you and Frederick ever have an argument over the loss of your leg?" The tactician asks bluntly, realizing the quartermaster probably won't appreciate me beating around the bush.
"No." He responds curtly.
Robin is genuinely surprised. He would have thought they would have had at least a minor altercation, especially with Emmet's generally negative attitude. "Did you talk it over at all?"
"A little."
"Emmet." Robin says seriously. "I need information here."
"Why?" He asks with narrowed eyes.
The tactician holds back a sigh. Emmet has every reason to not give away personal details, he doesn't know the situation, but at the same time Robin doesn't want to go around telling everyone that Frederick is being problematic. "There's a problem that I think you can help solve."
"And you can't just ask Frederick?" Emmet growls.
Robin purses his lips. The quartermaster is forcing his hand here. "He is the problem."
The man raises an eyebrow, unconvinced. "Right…"
Naga above this man is frustrating. "Look-"
"You're the tactician." The man says dryly, cutting me off. His eyes are narrow and full of suspicion as he speaks, but nonetheless he says: "I'm trusting that you have a good reason for prying into something that usually isn't your business. What do you need to know?"
"I need you to tell me about your interactions with Frederick after you lost your leg." I say. "An idea of what your relationship with him was beforehand would be useful too."
"Story time?" Emmet sighs. "Alright, fine. My tent is nearby. We can sit there."
It takes less than a minute to get to his tent from the supply wagons. He is the quartermaster, it makes sense he'd be stationed nearby. Emmet moves with a stilted gait, but now that I'm paying attention it isn't nearly as bad as I thought. I know from his entry in the unit roster that his leg is gone just above the knee, but his fluid movement shows both that he has a proper prosthetic (not a pegleg) and that he's rather accustomed to it by this point.
Considering "this point" is two years after the loss, I'd be worried if he wasn't accustomed yet.
"So…" The man grunts, dropping onto his matress. He's given me his stool, maybe because he assumes it will be easier on my old bones (and he'd be right, I'm in good shape for my age but I'm still old no matter how you look at it). "In the interest of not giving you my life's story, I'll stick to the important parts."
"No, please feel free to tell me everything." Robin says honestly. "I've got information on almost everyone else, but I only have military records and a few anecdotes about you."
"And it's going to stay that way." Emmet says curtly. The tactician can't say he's surprised, the quartermaster is even less sociable than Lon'qu. "Anyways, Me and Frederick used to get along fine. I'm older than him, and an actual veteran, so he afforded me a level of respect that was probably undeserved."
"He looked up to you?"
The quartermaster purses his lips. "Maybe. I never asked him. He was my equal in combat though, I don't see why he would look up to me."
Robin nods absently as he pulls out a notepad. He'll write this all down even if it doesn't end up being that relevant.
"Before you came along Frederick was our tactician. Unofficially of course." Emmet says with a dry smile. "He never really knew what to do with me. I didn't fit into the usual categories very well."
"Why?"
"I use magic weapons." He says, but doesn't elaborate on the subject. "Anyways, Frederick always rushed into battle. I think he wanted to kill everything before Chrom and Lissa even got there. He only let one or two foes pass by, intentionally I think, so that Chrom could stab at someone and feel like he was contributing."
"I see…" Robin mutters. There's certainly similarities to Frederick's current behaviour, the desire to do everything before others can being the most obvious (and most problematic) trait in common. "That's your guess right? You didn't actually talk with him about this?"
"Right." The man says. "So one day we went to hunt some bandits. Bigger band than usual, but nothing outrageous. We spotted the group, drew our weapons, and charged forwards. Frederick and Sully overtook us as usual, but everything seemed to be going fine."
"But...?"
The man sighs, grimacing. "They had another small group hiding in the woods. They saw us coming and set up a flanking ambush. Seven men against me, Chrom, Lissa, and Maribelle. The others were inexperienced, something was bound to break if we didn't fight perfectly."
"And you didn't."
Emmet nods grimly. "Lissa stepped too far forwards to heal Chrom. Either I intercepted, or she took the hit." His face is dark as he growls out. "Turns out levin swords aren't all that tough. Not enough to stop a good axe swing."
Robin nods silently. He gives the man a moment to calm his frustration at the memory before quietly asking: "and Frederick's reaction?"
"I didn't see him for a few days. I never blamed him, but from the fights I saw he fought very close to the group. He still tried to kill everything himself, but he did so from close by so he could keep an eye on everyone."
"I see." Robin mutters. Back then it was probably a good thing that Frederick was so overbearing because everyone was inexperienced… but now the Shepherds are too big for that to work, and only a few of them are novices. He's using an old strategy because he can't see that things have changed. "Thank you Emmet. You've been very helpful."
The quartermaster smiles thinly. "If you say so."
The tactician walks out of the tent, pondering this new information. While Emmet apparently never spoke to Frederick about the incident, it's fairly obvious that the quartermaster's injury was the catalyst for Frederick to adopt his current plan. It's not too hard to guess that the knight must feel guilty to some extent, it would perfectly explain Robin's earlier conversation with the man and Frederick's oddly specific examples of what failure is.
Robin needs to have another talk with Frederick.
###
Frederick is giving him a flat stare, and Robin hasn't even said anything yet. The knight knows what's coming it seems.
"Frederick…"
"Robin."
"You know what I'm going to say, don't you?"
"I know my duty Robin. You won't change my mind."
"Things have changed Frederick. You need to change too." Robin says softly. "Your first duty may be to Chrom and Lissa, but if you intend to act as a Shepherd you must follow orders."
Frederick's expression darkens. "You are pulling rank on me?"
"If I need to." The tactician admits. "But I hope to convince you, not force you."
"You may try." The knight says. "But I will not be swayed."
"Logic won't change your mind?" Robin offers. "You know the Shepherds are too big to protect all on your own anymore. You can't feasibly watch all of them while being on the front lines yourself."
"I can and I will." Frederick says stubbornly.
"You'll only wear yourself Frederick." The tactician says patiently. "The others aren't weak, they can fend for themselves now. You don't have to be everyone's shield."
"I know all of that, but I need to do it anyways." The knight insists. "I have a duty, and if I let myself fall short of it for any reason, least of all being physically or mentally incapable, then I have failed as both a retainer and a knight."
"Yeah… that's not how it works." Robin scoffs. "Frederick, how old do you think I am?"
"I don't see how-"
"Just answer the question."
"... sixty."
"Seventy two, but close enough." The man snorts. "Old men like me all look the same after a certain point. The point is that I've met a lot of people, directed a lot of soldiers, and I can tell you right now what you're trying to do is only going to make things worse overall. Worse for yourself, worse for the others, worse for Chrom."
That strikes a chord with the knight, and he grimaces in response to the tactician's words. "Milord has made no comment expressing his displeasure at my performance."
"Of course he hasn't." Robin scoffs. "How could he complain about someone trying to protect him? That's what I'm for, I look at things objectively… well, as much as possible."
"I cannot just leave my fellow soldiers to the whims of fate." Frederick says quietly. "I must be there to help."
The tactician's expression softens just a bit. "You're not Frederick. You've watched over them long enough that they can hold their own. Trust me, if it was possible for you to be everyone's shield I would gladly let you. We're too many in number now though."
The knight's shoulders sag. "I do not want to fail again Robin. I know the price of not watching over others as I should."
"But you will be doing it as you should. You will still be watching others Frederick, there are still new recruits in this army that could use a protector as they learn." The tactician offers. "And your status as heavy cavalry is invaluable. We need you Frederick, it's just not what you've been doing in the past."
Frederick looks on the verge of giving in, so Robin draws from his conversation with Emmet for the final strike.
"Emmet doesn't blame you, did you know that?" Robin says quietly. "I'd guess you've never really dealt with your guilt, have you?"
The man flinches as if struck. "I-I..."
"I wish I was young enough to be stubborn like you." The tactician chuckles, and pats the sputtering knight on the shoulder. "You understand though? You need to move on, both from your old role and from this guilt… and you'll find it isn't nearly as drastic as it sounds."
We'll end here.
I was worried about making Emmet a somewhat important character. OCs are hit-or-miss after all. Actually, he was supposed to be the main second character of this chapter (due to being the only war veteran in the Shepherds besides Robin) but I decided on Frederick at the last minute because I had a decent storyline idea for him.
Mr. Martin: I'll put it on the list.
Mram99: Well there are plenty more to go, so no worries.
Darkness is complete: Sure, that's not a bad idea. I can think of a thing or two for that…
SilentAltair: I have, and I'll tell you right now it's unlikely because Yandere are both difficult to write and very one-dimensional.
Guest: Yes, of course, how could I have forgotten Potato Robin? The best Robin.
Guest: Sure? That's a tough one though.
SolidShinji104: Yep, that's part of the tragedy of the chapter. It was a fine line or trying to make her sympathetic but still manipulative and eerie.
ThirtyK94: I think if this chapter has proven anything it's that age really doesn't change much for a character… at least not when I write them.
Invisible Prince: I've noted most of them down (not taking kirby powers, pear, nudist, gluttonous, and shovel knight). No guarantees I'll stick to the gender you've assigned the ideas though.