Cycle

by RoseWarden

Robin is a young woman who bakes cakes during the day, sleeps at night, and drinks on weekends. She does not wage wars, fight demons, or solve dating issues. Yet, somehow by divine mistake, she's found herself doing just that. Clearly, someone has her confused with another Robin...

26. Chapter 26

Disclaimer - I don't own Fire Emblem. All of its properties belong to Nintendo and Intelligent Systems.

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Chapter 26

The sharp intake of my breath is what wakes me.

I find myself upright in bed, heart hammering in my skull. My breaths come in shallow bursts and my eyes flicker madly over the room trying to tell reality from dream. A cold sweat breaks over my forehead and there's a chill clinging to my bones that causes me to shiver.

I can't shake those damn images from my mind. It always ends the same way. It won't stop!

The deep pit of fear in my stomach. Fingers stretched two seconds too late. Heat on my skin. Guilt. Blood under my nails. Death.

A keening cry of alarm comes out of me as I press the back of my hand against me forehead. Stop it Robin! Stop! It's not my fault. It's not my fault. I couldn't have stopped it if I tried. I...I couldn't stop it!

I spit out a curse under my breath as I push off the bed. My legs wobble and I guide myself along against furniture pieces as I make my way to the small room on the right. My sole good hand grabs at the handle and retches it open as I tumble in. The door slams off the back wall and rebounds against the frame behind me. Fingers curl around the basin of the sink as I press against it. I lean in with my shoulder and use it to push the pump. The cold shock of the water on my face as I bend under it is wonderful. The rush wipes my mind blank and I revel in it.

When I no longer have the strength to push out water, I retreat back. I rest my head forward against the glass of the mirror above it. The room is dark aside from a sliver of light sneaking in between a crack in the door. I focus on the steadying sounds of my breath and the plip-plop of water droplets rolling off my face.

The small enclosed area of this supply room has been my saving grace. There are no dark corners or sounds in this tiny room. It's just me, myself, and I once that door shuts behind me. It's a bizarre sense of security and it does wonders for me when I wake in a panic. The closeness deafens everything and makes my world smaller and less intimidating. If I had one of those fountains with koi fish in it I'd be totally zen right now.

I count the seconds as they tick by, trying to time them with my breathing. Eventually I feel my pulse drop and my breaths even out. Better. We're okay. We're fine.

It's over. Everything is real. I'm fine.

A shuddering sigh escapes from me. I tilt my head up and stare at the tip of my nose reflecting back at me from the other side. My breaths fog up the surface in tiny puffs.

I've fallen victim to another nightmare that claims my broken sleep pattern. It's a rare thing to experience a deep slumber since I awoke. When I do, I'm left more drained than energized. It's a strange feeling, to be both restless and exhausted all at once. It's like my system is always moving and on alert. The sensation sucks, I assure you.

I forget how many days it's been since I woke. Three, maybe more? Doesn't matter. My condition hasn't changed all that much.

"My condition," I repeat out loud with a hollow laugh.

My head lolls to the side and I manage to lift my left arm a bit. White linen wraps several layers down up the entirety of it stopping just short of my shoulder. My fingers flex stiffly one at a time drawing a tiny intake of air as I feel the damaged surface underneath stretch.

Useless log of a limb.

A flush of irritation and anger swoops down and presses on my chest. I close my eyes and force myself to turn away. I swallow the overwhelming urge to scream. Instead, I grind my teeth together and wait for the constricting in my throat to subside. It's unbearable trying to contain this urge. It hits me at least once a day and I can't do anything to relieve it except to simply hold it in. It's not because I want to, it's because I have to.

I am in no position to move. I mean in terms of writing, walking long stretches, or anything that could be considered strenuous to my body. At least, not for another few days. And past that? Another week or so just to recover physically from the exhaustion, longstanding trauma, and toll the injuries took on me. Probably a faster recovery and better odds in my favor thanks to magic, but still. The healing process is going to take some time.

The outcome of that battle ended just swimmingly. Anneliese only gave me enough details to pass off my worry. I never pushed her either. Part of me doesn't want to know the deeper details. I can barely handle my disappointment in the way things ended with my fight. I mean, my fail-whale tactics helped a little in the end. She said Lucina and Owain were still alive when she checked. Whatever damage I did to the priest wasn't enough to kill him though. He overcame me and shoved me off into the fountain. He somehow took two guards out along the way as he retreated into the night. Splendid.

And daddy dearest? He slipped away in the ensuing chaos. What upsets me is that Emmeryn had him in a deadlock. With a bit more time, Chrom could probably have done Validar in with his sister holding the Grimleal as she was. Just the thought of that makes me want to crack my fist into the wall.

Validar should be dead. Well, as dead as he can be anyway. And if Grima is missing, then Validar wouldn't have recovered and potentially caused us a mess later on. My irritation at the whole thing caused Anneliese to quiet about the rest of the events and hasn't mentioned anymore since. Probably doesn't want to cause me to fluster in my delicate state.

I hate when she says that. My "delicate" condition. It makes me sick.

I switch arms and stare down numbly at my right hand as I flex it open and shut. The soft material of the linen scratches together as I do so. Underneath the bindings on both arms is a quilt of skin patch-worked with several swatches of still healing burns. A grueling two-day ordeal that Anneliese and two aides fought vigorously to heal.

Of what little I gathered, I was a flaming wreck. When they fished me out of the fountain, I was more boiled than a baked potato. Bad to severe burns to my lower arms and hands. Minor ones along my neck and torso where the skin was exposed or cloth was saturated. Add in a concussion, cracked rib, and dark magic that severely hampered my internal body functions. I had myself one helluva injury cocktail.

And that's not including my guilt trip down the face of Useless Mountain. Boy, that's been a mighty fall.

I-I've never been in such a state before.

I've always prided myself a strong woman but this...this is unlike any situation I've ever found myself in. Never have I been so helpless before. Weak and frail and damaged. I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be a burden or some weak and defenseless damsel. Why did this happen? How did I let this happen? I'm so goddamn useless it's unbelievable!

"Stop it."

My own voice jars me from my downward spiral. This happens a lot now when I'm left to my thoughts. Negativity bubbles up and I start to drown in this whirlpool of disparaging commentary. It's guilt and shame. The two deadly poisons that all of this healing magic has yet to recover.

I take a deep breath in and imagine the anxiety leaving as I exhale. My right hand lifts and brushes some hair behind my ear so I can see better. As I pull away, I take a moment to hold it before me. I wiggle my fingers up and down as I slowly turn it. Isn't it ironic that my branded hand is the only thing to make a complete recovery so far? While I was promised some substantial scarring even with all the efforts given to my injuries, only this stupid hand and that stupid mark seemed to heal miraculously to the fullest. That's some fate influenced work right there. Bah.

Jeez. How on earth am I going to explain this to everyone back at home?

Magical burns, I guess, are several times more potent than normal ones due to their inherent nature. As such, they require twice the effort to heal and are more prone to leaving behind hints of their presence. So I'm guaranteed some attractive looking patches of wrinkled and wrecked skin all over my body. I'll probably smell like this god-awful plant they've been using for the rest of my life. Every day now before my bandages are changed I get slathered in this Valmese miracle plant that acts like some sort of super aloe vera. The long green leaves reek like the ass end of an aardvark when you mash them up into a salve. I'm use to the smell now but I'm reminded of it every time a different healer comes in and wrinkles their nose.

Worse still is that rancid potion I have to drink every day. Anneliese was not joking when she said I would experience pain if I went without it. There can't be a healer by my bedside every time I start aching, so this is a necessary evil. It's vile and worse than brussel sprouts dipped in motor oil. But it helps. God, does it help. There's a lot of aches and whatnot all over. Except where it's not. Because I can't feel anymore. Yeah. This bites.

I have no one to blame but myself for this though. And it's not like I shouldn't have expected something like this to happen eventually. You're bound to be left with some sort of marks going into a war. Depending on how long I'm stuck here, I could very well be going on past the Plegian one and into Valm's. Let's hope not. The start of this one is already off to a stellar performance. What an asset to battle I sure was. I did my predecessor proud with all the flailing and ill-made decisions. Best tactician around. "A" plus effort. I'm a natural-born leader.

I lean back and really take a look at myself. Aside from proper underthings, I'm in a sleeveless thigh length tunic and cotton leggings. It's the closest thing I could demand for clothing given my other option was that awful old lady nightie they wanted to keep me in. Just cause I look like crap doesn't mean what I wear has to be.

Still, what I have on doesn't hide the wrappings that dominate my exposed limbs. Aside from a fully bandaged left arm, my right is done up all the way to the elbow. Beneath the pant line of my leggings you can see where the edge of the work done on my left leg ends. I can't forget the obvious gauze patch hanging off my neck either. Cosmetically? Dark circles under the eyes and the remnants of some bruising here and there on paling skin. The full effect of my grossness won't be clear until after the bindings come off. Not that I haven't seen it after the constant changing.

I'll refrain from thinking about that. I don't feel like vomiting at the moment.

It's funny though. You know what's bothering me the most looking in the mirror? How long my hair is getting! I haven't let it grow out in forever. It's just easier to have it short when you're stuck with hair nets and machinery it could get pulled into. I was pretty religious with my hair appointments. As soon as it reached a certain point, I called my hairdresser and whacked it off. But these strands haven't seen scissors in some time. It's odd. The more I look, the more I seem to be drifting away from what I remember of myself.

Huh, sense of déjà vu. Didn't I dream the same thought? That's the power of the subconscious for you. What else did I think? My face was too wide or something? It's just psychological probably. You go through things and feel like you've changed somehow.

As I continue to stare, I hear sounds behind me. I stop and half-turn toward the door. Beyond it I can hear the click of the outer one and footsteps as someone comes in.

"Robin, are you still awake?"

Anneliese's motherly call sounds out into the empty room. I hear her step further in and stop in the center.

"Robin?"

I straighten out my clothes and take another peek at myself. I look presentable enough. The last thing I want to do is cause her extra alarm by knowing about my little episode. The poor woman has enough to deal with all the other patients of hers. I'm only adding extra pressure to her already overworked schedule.

I stop just short of the doorway when I hear her gasp out loud in horror. Her padded feet carry her to the other end of the room before she stops again. There's a moment of silence before she speaks.

"No," she breathes out in mortification.

I can hear clothing move and her next words sound further away.

"Blast it all! Did that fool girl really do what I think she did?" her exasperated declaration echoes. I hear the crinkles in her gown as she suddenly shouts out and away from me.

"So help my soul, you best not be out there! You hear me?"

I can hear her skirts ruffling and the bed creak. The woman lets out an unattractive harrumph and then more sounds of cloth rustling. I reach for the door and push it open a bit more, peering out through the crack. The bottom end of Anneliese's skirts sway and shake as her lower torso tries to twist through the small opening of the window above my bed. Her feet kick back and forth as if trying to swim through air to push herself forward.

That's...

That's actually sort of funny.

There's a warm feeling in my chest and the corners of my mouth remember how to flex in a familiar fashion. For the first time in days, I feel something I thought lost. I've rediscovered the urge to smile.

I-I should probably put the old gal out of her misery. But maybe I'll watch a moment more. I forgot this feeling. It's nice to be happy for once and not doused in self-loathing or exhaustion. I hang in the moment a bit more before getting the strength to step out.

"Anneliese."

The woman instantly stops. A second later the layers of her skirts flatten under the pressure of her arms. Parting through the folds, Anneliese's head peeks through. Her silvery bun is a mess and she is red in both cheeks. She blinks once, registering my sudden appearance. Then she sputters and starts to wriggle back out the window.

"Confound it! Child, do you know what you just put me through? Where in Naga's green grass did you get yourself lost in?"

"The supply closet," I answer blankly.

I take a small step back to give her space as she falls out of the tiny opening with an inaudible 'pop'. She bounces off the bed and shakes out her crumbled sleeves. With the powers only a well aged nanny and mother could, she sweeps her hand back through her hair and somehow makes it look presentable again.

She immediately rises and for a moment I think she's about to catch me by the ear. Instead she goes right behind me and gently guides me by the shoulders back to the bed.

She clucks her tongue. "It doesn't matter now. My real question is why are you standing? I made it strictly clear you are on bed-rest. No meandering. No roaming."

I know better than to argue with her at this point. I merely let her push me back to the mattress. Like the mother hen she is, she immediately gets to fluffing my pillow before tucking me in waist deep. Instead, I just try to change the subject.

"Is it already time to change the bandages?"

"No, thank goodness. I don't wish my day to end that quickly." She pats down the sheets and smooths it with expert anti-wrinkle precision. "I was actually stopping in with hopes I could try to get you to eat again."

"I'm not hungry," I lie. That hasn't been the case for a while now. It's just that I find everything I put down more often threatens to come back up. I'm nervous to eat anything heavy.

"Oh," she states sadly. "That's a shame. They are the most lovely tarts."

Tarts?

Anneliese straightens up and looks innocently. "Bogberry I believe. Topped with the most succulent cherry and apple cream. My youngest made it today."

I...I happen to like bogberry.

She gives me a sly look as she taps her cheek as if remembering. "And it's paired with this lovely herbal tea. Does wonders for easing the mind. Freshly made too."

I...I drink tea by the gallons. When was the last time I had a cup?

"What kind?" The question sneaks out before I can stop myself.

"Orange peel and red thistle blend."

Sumia introduced me to that. I love red thistle and citrus together.

Anneliese turns and slowly starts to walk away. "Such a shame. By the time I bring it back to the kitchens it will be cold. I'll just have to drain it. The tarts are just left overs. I suppose the pigs will appreciate them tonight since no one else will."

You crafty, crafty woman. I don't know who you talked to but you are definitely bribing me with personal favorites. And you're winning.

"Maybe I can relieve you of one," I find myself offering. "Just one though."

I really should be watching it. B-but fruit is good for you. Apple a day keeps the doctor away. There's apples in the cream. Close enough, right? Right?

Anneliese looks back just enough for me to catch her victorious smile before she exits for the hall. There's a quiet rattling of silverware as she picks up her tray. A moment later she reenters the room with the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my life.

I guess the old adage about sweets helping when you feel down is true. Staring at those tasty little morsels reminds me again of positive sensations I've been lacking recently. It probably helps that they're something different from the soup, bread, and water I've been having. She sets the plate by me while carrying the kettle and cup away so she can pour it.

Happiness. I am eating the solidified version of happiness right now. Upset stomach be damned. I've been so cautious about everything that the craving need to enjoy something again hits me twofold. Anneliese has barely finished setting my cup down when she looks up to see the smeared remains of the tart hanging off my fingers and around my bulging cheeks.

She blinks.

"Ish gurd," I sputter sending crumbs all over my lap. She watches in quiet horror as I reach up and wipe the side of my mouth with my good hand. I only realize what I've done after I look and see the long purple and red smear staining the fabric.

"Shuut," I respond sending more bits everywhere.

"Robin, please. Don't talk with your mouth full," she sighs.

"Sawry."

I finally manage to swallow but the lump is heavy in my throat. She kindly offers to hold my cup for me and lets me take a long drink. It's not scalding hot, just toasty enough. Which is good since I end up inhaling the whole thing in one gulp.

"Well, you certainly took to that idea," she chuckles. "That's the most enthusiasm I've seen from you yet."

"I've had a hard time finding something to be enthusiastic about," I mumble lamely.

Her step falters and I see the wince of sadness as she turns to set the cup aside. She then takes a seat next to the bed, her look of concern masked behind a thin smile. "So how are you Robin? You seem more alert and talkative today."

I shift and make a little grabby hand at the tarts sitting nearby. Anneliese bends over and pushes them closer to me. Snatching up another one, I take a bite. "These are good. We should have them more often. The constant liquid diet is kind of bland. No offense."

Anneliese politely clasps her hands together and just nods in appreciation. She doesn't acknowledge my change of topic though she looks upset I avoided it. The healer continues to watch me eat and fidgets with her fingers. Her voice is full of mock cheer when she speaks again.

"Your friends were asking about you again."

I pause mid-bite.

"Why, just this morning Sully and her young cavalier friend came by. Such a charming young fellow." She watches for my reaction before continuing. "He's the one who suggested the tea and tarts there. Lovely tastes he has. They're very sophisticated for a warrior."

My enthusiasm drains and my previous hunger drops out. I can feel the urge to clam up rising. I set down the half-finished tart and look away.

Anneliese has been doing this as of late. She keeps subtly trying to get me to talk to someone. Anyone. I'm sure everybody is worried sick and wants to see how I am. And I am too. But...

But I don't want to see anyone.

I just can't get over these stupid, nonsensical thoughts in my mind. My logical side tells me I'm worried over nothing. It's all in my head. But I just have these fears of what they may say to me. Disapproving comments about my failures. Accusations about my weakness and inability to handle myself. Anger over losing those...

A-anyway, it's not just that. I'm by no means a vain person but I just dread the idea of someone seeing me like this. Scarred, weakened, mentally-drained. I'd rather bury my head under a blanket and block everything out until things seem better. In fact, that's what I've been doing since I woke up. Pushing away any visitors except the healers who have to do their jobs.

I know it's horrible of me. Deep down inside I acknowledge that. What I'm doing is not productive at all. The world may not seem like it's turning while I hide away but it is. Lives continue to go on and events unfold. I want to reconnect and see where those lives are now. But this nauseous fear in me continues to outweigh that desire whenever the topic appears. In shame, I can only stay quiet unable to support the idea.

This never goes down well with Anneliese. She's been getting pushier lately about it but ends up backing down eventually and letting it go. Today though, I can see from her face that won't be the case.

"Robin," she starts with a warning tone.

"What?" I reply numbly.

"You can't keep doing this."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not doing anything."

The older woman gives me a stern look of concern. "Don't take me for a fool, young lady. You know exactly what you're doing."

Of course I do. Because I'm a coward even when there's nothing to fear. I shift my whole body away from her toward the window. My voice is dead sounding as I speak. "I'm tired. Can you leave me alone now."

I can feel the rise of emotion from her and the quick gasp of air as she tries to compose herself. Anneliese is very passionate about trying to help someone but she holds herself back with her patients. She has a pushy personality but she curbs it with those in her care because she knows taking them outside their comfort zones will only alienate her from them.

But instead of her typical 'maybe later,' she surprises me with something new.

"Well, for your sake, I hope you change your mind. You're going to have a visitor today whether you like it or not."

I tilt my head to the side and gaze at her. "What do you mean?"

"Just like I said," she answers with a tired look. "I relayed your desire to not be disturbed but there are some people who can override even my authority. If that gives any clue as to who you may be expecting."

My stomach flips. I fall back and cringe. "Great."

Anneliese holds one of the highest positions in the civil side of court. Rising from the ranks of a chambermaid, she is now the head of staff and primary healer to the royal family. She's essentially on rank with Frederick, which means she has the greatest authority in the castle for someone of non-noble or military status. The only ones who can order her around are her bosses. All three of them.

"Which one?" I groan out.

"Emmeryn issued the order but I'm sure you know who is actually coming in her stead."

"I'm dead. Tell them I'm dying and dead," I say in quiet desperation.

Out of all the people! I could probably have gotten away with Lissa poking her nosy way in but her brother? Oh gods, kill me.

Logic should dictate, "Oh that's wonderful! I should be happy to hear my captain is concerned for my well-being!"

Yeah, that's right. If I hadn't stated I quit the Shepherds as a way to undermine him. Or didn't listen to a word he said. Or be practically useless when I swore I would try to do some good on their behalf. Or other stuff I won't think about but know are just as bad.

This visit can't be good. Can it? Maybe? I-I don't know.

I think a root of all my fears stem from this. I just don't want to see the disappointment I've caused my friends. I don't think I could handle hearing how much they doubt my capabilities. Knowing that I failed them is one thing. Hearing it from their own mouths is another.

Anneliese offers a sad smile and reaches out to fix some stray hairs of mine. "You know I can't tell them that. And whether you believe it or not, this is for the best. I know you're afraid but you shouldn't be."

"That's easy for you to say but you aren't in my position," I reply bitterly. "I-I'm not ready yet. I'm barely getting over myself."

"And hiding away helps?" She leans in and presses a wrinkled hand to my cheek. "Tell me how sitting here alone in the dark with your demons is helping anyone?"

Ah, wonderful. Here comes the shame. Anneliese has a talent for that. She's so maternal and doting with that grandmotherly wisdom of hers. She knows just the right thing to say to really tear down your walls and leave you open. She's right in every way but it's just been so hard for me to grasp out and take a hold of that advice with the strength she wants me to.

She gives my face a fond pat and then sits back. "Please try, Robin. It may be hard but you must. If not for others than for yourself."

"I know, I know," I say in exasperation. My right hand plays with the sheets. "It's just been hard."

"It's been hard for everyone," she reminds me kindly. "For some more than others. Recent events have hurt us all in some way. What those Grimleal did really put a rock in everyone's boots."

"Yeah."

We fall into a silence, each unsure whether they want to go on. I don't think either of us want to bring up recollections of the past. She is right though. Anneliese is suffering in her own way. Aside from having to care for her sister, she lost two of her own in attempts to heal the wounded. There were others among the staff who were unlucky enough to hide in time and met similar fates. The loss of coworkers and friends was weighing down on her as much as anyone else. And yet here she was still living, for her and them. Why can't I do that? Why can't I be that strong?

"You're making that face again, dear. Squint that hard and it will freeze that way," she laughs breezily. She reaches forward and taps me on the nose. "Try to find a smile somewhere deep down. Frowns don't become you."

I look down at my twiddling fingers and bite down on my lip. "I don't know if I have it in me right now."

"Ho hum. Such a shame."

Before I can respond, there's a knock on the door that makes me jump. Anneliese's face falls and she rises to a stand with a quick prim of her dress. She retreats to the other end of the room and peeks out. "Yes?"

I turn toward the window and watch clouds float by as her discussion carries on. A female's voice responds too low for me to hear. Anneliese quietly disappears. She shuts the door behind her though I can hear her muffled voice with others in the hall. It goes on for a short bit before they both go silent. I think I hear another join them and that begins a new more vocal exchange. I hope everything is okay. It sounds a bit heated since she raises her voice every so often. Finally, the three-way ends with a final declaration from the elderly healer. Seconds later I hear footsteps walk away.

The door hinges squeak in protest as it reopens and then shuts again. She pauses after the latch falls before taking a slow pace back to my end.

"Everything alright?" I ask.

"Yes. Of course. Just..." She looks back at the door. "It's as I said before. You have a visitor."

"Ah," I say dumbly. "That was fast."

"Indeed. I thought myself a bit more time to warn you but I assume Chrom ended his meeting with that Feroxi friend of yours early. That or Lissa expelled him prematurely." Anneliese ends the last statements with a mischievous grin. "Poor dear is smitten, much to his chagrin."

"She isn't the only one," I admit wistfully. "Has his arm finally mended?"

"Yes, thankfully. If I had to put up with one more day of his fidgeting I swear I would have tied him down. I've never seen a man so restless to get back on his feet. His brooding could rival yours."

I breath out in relief and feel a flutter of gratitude. Lon'qu had sustained some pretty severe wounds that night. Even after he had been pushed to his limit, he had continued fight to keep Lissa from harm. I'm sure there was some embellishment on the witness' end but she claimed it took five men to take down Lon'qu after Lissa was abducted. Regardless, he sure looked as if that were the case. Blood loss, a broken arm, deep wound to the side...that's just to name a few. I heard Libra had been called back in to attend to him as well as a few others. War monks apparently specialize not only in curse removal but traumatic wounds. Hence why they are so invaluable to the field when in war. I suppose they're like a specialized surgeon to someone like Maribelle who's a general practitioner.

Anneliese plays with the tray of dishes trying to look busy as she peeks back at the door. "You don't have to always ask me how he is. Your friend is only two doors down. Would it be so horrible to ask in person?"

Nice try. No way in hell I'd go see Lon'qu as I am now. He's the last person I want seeing me scarred up as I am.

"Can I have more tea?" I ask to deflect her question.

"Of course," she replies in a defeated voice. There's a slight shake of her head as she pours the cup. When she offers it up to me, I gesture with my right hand.

"I can hold it with this one."

She eyes me warily but hands it over. The exchange is slow as she seems hesitant to let it go into my grasp. When she sees me keep a firm grip on the handle, she retracts her hand and eases up.

"That's a good sign," she nods approvingly. "Your strength is coming back."

"Yay," I grunt flatly before taking a sip.

"Robin-"

Anneliese's disapproving lecture is cut short when the door clicks open. Both of our heads turn toward the entrance to see the new body walking in.

I swallow my tea harshly and wince. "Well great."

"Dallied quite a bit, didn't you? I expected you to be right on my heels with the fuss you were making," Anneliese remarks with a friendly chastising in greeting.

"I needed a moment," Chrom replies back as he sets the door shut behind him. As he looks my way, I immediately avert my eyes. Wow, the color of this tea is fascinating. I'll just stare at that a little longer.

As his footsteps get closer, Anneliese gestures to the tea pot. "I brought a little something for her but I can only assume you're feeling famished after that meeting. Would you like me to bring another plate or cup? Both?"

I find some shred of bravery in me and force myself to look over. I dip my head just a tad to the side and I end up looking down at Chrom's shoes. Those silver ones are his fancy boots. Anneliese must have meant another council gathering. I can only guess what about considering everything that's happened.

"No thank you," he comments politely. I can feel his gaze on the top of my skull. It's making my nerves rattle and shake. "I'll be fine. What I would like though is for some privacy. If you don't mind?"

There's a long pause from the elder woman. I then hear her pat down her dress before clapping her hands together. "I-I suppose so. The laundry does need to be seen to after all."

I glance up at her in alarm, a silent plea to stay just on the tip of my tongue. She catches my wordless request and looks genuinely upset with my reaction. But all Anneliese can offer me is an apologetic shake of her head. She's outclassed here when he's this serious.

I can't believe I'm in this all alone.

"Please?" Chrom's voice is more insistent despite remaining calm.

"Of course," she replies. "I'll be by later for your evening changing Robin."

As she leaves, she gently takes him by the shoulder and leans in. Her face grows more serious and her voice drops low and stern. Whatever she tells him, it causes him to somber up. He whispers something back and then urges her on toward the door. With a final glance back toward me, Anneliese leaves us alone.

Oh, this is awkward.

The silence is deafening. All I can do is return to the depths of my tea. Really, it has such a nice deep red color. So...interesting.

Chrom steps away from the beside and approaches the dresser against the one wall. I hear the rustle of leaves as he grasps toward something.

"I hope these suited you better than the last one I brought you," he comments with forced enthusiasm. "They're actual flowers this time."

He's talking about the vase of mismatched flora sitting loud and vibrant on the bland backdrop of the room. I found it on there the day after I woke up. Anneliese said it was from everyone in the Shepherds. A different bud from each member. This led to an assortment of sizes and styles: a dandelion from Sully, and yellow rose from Virion, a white daisy dipped in a glitter from Lissa, and many others. The scent wafting from it was fresh and reminded me of a wild field in spring.

I cried for an hour after seeing it the first time.

"It's great," I respond weakly. "You didn't have to."

"It's tradition though, isn't it?" His fingers trace over the purple lavender sprig in the patch. I know that one's from him. He's the only one who knows that's my favorite. Something that came up in a mindless question dump from him on the way back from Regna Ferox.

Gods Chrom, you are such a...

"It brightens up the room anyway. You should really talk to a decorator about sprucing up these rooms. They're about as lifeless as a Risen," I joke dryly.

"Maybe."

And with that one word response, the conversation nosedives. Despite being a short distance away from each other, it feels like we're miles apart. It only gets worse when I feel him looking me over. I feel like an ugly art piece being critiqued. He must see me start to wriggle because he shifts and instead takes to a comfortable lean against the dresser.

"You look...well."

A shallow laugh bursts out of me like a cork popping from a bottle. In response, I find myself drawing up my sheets as far as I can to cover up my arms."Save the false compliments. I look like a dragon vomited up their last meal."

"I'm not pandering remarks, Robin. If you knew how you looked when-"

I start to fizzle. "I was told in great detail what I looked like before and I'd prefer you refrain from reminding me. These lasting souvenirs are all I need."

"If that's the case, then don't dismiss my sincerity so readily," he counters with angered protest. His voice quickly softens to match his features. "You can't imagine what a relief it is to see you now as opposed to what you did when I found you with Marth."

That's a punch to the heart. I feel myself flush in shame and look away. I don't deserve that.

"I thought you were dead."

"I should have been," I mutter angrily to myself. I don't really mean it but I just can't help but beat myself up.

Of course Chrom doesn't know what I'm thinking as his eyes widen in surprise. "What?"

"Nothing," I hastily protest before gulping down the rest of my tea. Now we're back to being awkward again.

Chrom pushes off the dresser and walks over. His hands rest over the top of the chair Anneliese previously sat in. He looks slightly disturbed and unsure what to say.

"Robin," he starts, trying to get my attention.

I stare into the depths of my cup feeling horrible. "Go away."

"No. Not until I've said my piece."

"Don't waste your breath. I already know what you're going to say."

"Really? That's a surprise considering I only just sorted out what I wanted to today," he replies as he slips around to take a seat.

"It doesn't take a genius to figure the obvious," I say in dismissal as I try to lean over and set the cup on the bedside table. I stretch and stretch and blast it all if I'm not an inch short of it. If I could use my stupid left hand I could do it! Chrom comes to my aid and takes the cup from me. Instead of feeling grateful, I only feel contempt for invalidating my own independence.

"Don't you have something more important to do?" I snap.

"This is important," he answers back coolly, taken off guard by my sudden attitude.

"I fail to see how."

He gapes at me like I've grown another head. "Robin, you just said you'd rather be dead than alive. Tell me how that doesn't sound wrong?"

I try to wave him off. "I didn't mean it."

"I don't care if you did or not. The fact that you even made a comment like that is worrisome. Had I known you were like this I would never have walked away the first time."

I glare angrily at him. "I wasn't ready to talk."

Chrom holds my gaze with equal intensity. His fingers tap furiously in the crook of each arm as he speaks. "And that excuse went for everyone else too? Lissa? Frederick? The rest of the Shepherds?"

"You really think I'm in a talking mood with what I've got weighing on me? I'm barely pulling myself together. Talking out how badly I screwed up is really going to help with that. Excuse me for not being a chipper ball of sunshine. I seem to have lost my sense of hospitality between being a completely useless sack of air consumption and mutilating my already lackluster self in the process of a battle I utterly overestimated."

He tilts his head and processes my words as if trying to pick out whether I'm speaking the truth or not. "Is that seriously what you think?"

Is it? I-I don't know. Everything is just so garbled and messy in my head. One second I think I'm okay and the next I'm remembering and feeling the bad stuff all over again. It's a vicious cycle of blame and forgiveness.

I find myself peering at some spot on the far wall. It's hard to keep eye contact when he looks so intense. "I don't know what I'm thinking or feeling anymore. But this conversation happening now is not helping any."

He leans forward, his voice losing its hard edge. "Then tell me how to go about making it work."

"Stop talking. Period," I plead, breaking under the amount of concern he has. "I don't need to be reminded of my own blunders that already weigh down on me. I-I'll get over what I need to in time without being lectured on it."

"That's a blatant lie and you know it."

His blunt answer renders me mute.

"Robin, Anneliese has given me updates on your recovery. I know about the insomnia, the lack of eating, the desire to hide from socializing." He pauses. "The night terrors especially."

I can feel a sense of desperation starting shake me. "Do not bring those up to me," I warn.

"So we should just let you suppress everything? Keep it all inside until you crumble under the weight of it?" Chrom looks so concerned and frustrated. Not with me but the situation. His one hand works nervously against his pant leg. Him being this upset makes me upset because inadvertently I'm at fault for the discomfort.

"I'm handling it just fine. I'm not burdening another person with my problems," I argue. "And you all don't need another reason to find disappointment in me."

"Why in Naga's name would you assume something like that?" he argues right back. "Robin, if you think what happened that night-"

"Would you save your breath. I'm not talking about that." I can feel the irritation threatening to bubble over. Didn't I say I didn't want to do this anymore?

"And I'm not ignoring-"

"I said NO!"

The final interjection of my voice comes out desperate and cracked. You can feel how broken and tired I am in the way it just blurts out and then dies as quick as it came. The look of shock on his face is the last straw for me. I bury my face into my hands and give up. Can I just pull the blanket over my head and pretend everything is gone?

"Gods," I hear him whisper to himself.

There's a long pause between us as I continue to hide behind my hands. I can't believe I snapped at him like that. I shouldn't have. I am such a moron.

I hear him shift. "I-I went about that all wrong. Forgive me."

Now he's apologizing? Crumbs.

"No," I push out quietly as I pull away. "No, I'm sorry."

"I'm all twisted up in here," I add while pointing to my head and then my heart, "and in here. I shouldn't be assuming anything. I've been so scared of everything that's happened. Myself. My actions. But most of all, I've been fearing everyone else's opinions."

"I've been growing stronger and stronger here in Ylisse. Comfortable even. But in reality, I'm still so fragile. The thought of losing what I have and being left with nothing, especially after that night, is unbearable. My mind just keeps whirling with all these probable outcomes and none of them were good. I prematurely decided by myself what you would say, or Emmeryn, or the others."

"Such as?" he ventures out.

"I don't want to repeat them. Just know I assumed you'd be very critical about everything."

He sighs and rubs his cheek with the back of his hand. "Of course I'm going to be critical about some things. But is that the only thing I feel? Absolutely not. Worried. Relieved. Confused. Take your pick. You left me in a difficult spot."

I let out a bleak laugh and a sliver of my old self slips out unbidden. "If I wasn't difficult who would keep you all on your toes?"

He takes a moment to consider my tone, then ekes out a similar response. "Lissa already fills in that role quite nicely, thank you."

"Shame," I shrug dimly. "Guess I'll have to find a new job then."

"The Shepherds just acquired an open position that needs filling. Tactician role I believe."

Ah, well done. That's a proper burn.

"I never meant what I said," I answer back, my tone dropping softly.

"I had hoped that was the case. All the same," he says, "I couldn't help but think otherwise."

"Guess I thought you knew me better than that."

He glances up. "That goes both ways."

Ouch. Double burn. He's serious today. I can't blame him though. I must sound like a sodding fool.

"I'm a moron," I wallow as I smack my forehead gently with an open palm.

"Can we please refrain from all the negative self-battering?" Chrom requests.

"I'm a bit too far-gone for that, in case you hadn't noticed."

"Well then explain to me what you can. That's part of the reason I'm here, Robin. Do I have some choice words about your decision making? Yes. But it seems to me talking this out is more important than any chastising or commentary you seem to be assuming for me."

I freeze up, unsure what to say. I was never a person to share my troubles so willingly. I could usually just ride out whatever was bothering me. But what I faced in my past life was nowhere near as harrowing as what I'm facing here. Just trying to suck it up isn't doing me much good. But, still. This is so messed up.

"Look, you've got enough responsibilities on your own," I mumble out. "My troubles aren't yours to carry."

"That's where you're mistaken," he asserts with a shake of his head. "It's always my job to be there for my men. As captain, it's my responsibility to keep them at their best. And if that means sharing in their troubles, then so be it."

Leadership. One of the things that put me in this spot to begin with. Probably the one thing still holding me under. I dream of that more than anything. Countless times Anneliese told me I was wrong. That I wasn't to blame. I'm no god, she said. Even with my map, I can't see everything and assume from first glance what is and is not there. Yeah, that's great. It makes sense. It doesn't override the feeling of just being a second too late to stop a searing inferno from destroying the charges under you.

That horrible sinking feeling as you watch it all happen. That their lives could have still existed had you not taken one extra second to look. One more to react. I-I...

Oh. Oh no. Not again. I'm starting to feel sick. Wrong. Everything is just wrong. S-somone get me a paper bag.

"Robin?" Chrom questions in sudden alarm. I feel the bed weigh down next to me as I start to curl up. He says my name again with greater urgency. I can feel his hand resting on my back in support.

Shoot. What helped the last time? Uh, uh. Candy I think? Yeah, motherfudging Candyland. Gumdrops and that peanut brittle house and the lollipop trees. Frolic Robin! Find the fudge rapids and never look back!

…...

Okay, better. No dead skin and smoke. Just sweet scents and the quiet chirp of birds on licorice lagoon.

I'm vaguely aware of Chrom's voice in the background. I blink away my haze and find his blue eyes wide with worry. Reality comes crashing back in.

"You with me?" he murmurs.

I lean against the support of his shoulder and stare morosely at my hands. "Yes. No. Sorry. Sometimes I think about certain things and it just gets overwhelming. That's why I didn't want to talk about anything. The guilt and everything just comes back like a kick to the face."

"I'll take a guess and assume that is this about the charge you led?"

"That. Always that. But the fight too. And everything else."

He shifts to a more comfortable position. "You know you can't let it consume you like this. It's causing you to break."

"I can't just pretend it didn't happen," I point out.

"You aren't suppose to. But you can learn to live with it."

He thinks I can just magically turn off the switch that makes this happen? Just like that? I snort in irritation. "Really? With the snap of my fingers I can just wash all the blood away? Brilliant! I'll do that tonight and then sit down to a nice meal where we'll laugh about all of this over a cup of wine."

He stiffens up in irritation under my attitude. "You can mock my words but what I say is truth. I understand what you're going through."

I reel back angrily. "That's hilarious. How would you understand anything I'm going through?"

Chrom stares at me in disbelief, mouth set in a deep frown. His voice grows cold. "You honestly think I haven't been where you are? That I haven't felt failure as a solider? As a leader? Hells, Robin, think about it! At the end of the day the repercussions of the Shepherds' actions have to bounce back on somebody. And who do you think that is?"

"When the Grimleal attacked, what do you think I went through after everything was said and done concerning you? I'm your commanding officer. I'm the one who failed twice to assert my authority in an attempt to stop you from acting. I'm the one who didn't keep you close enough at hand when the responsibility fell to me in battle. I'm the one who nearly ended up with a dead Shepherd on my hands!"

He takes a deep breath and stables his rising voice. His eyes are deep with emotions. "Tell me how I can't understand your point of view."

"I didn't die Chrom," I press back. "You also don't have the added weight of mucking up your fight! The way I hear it, you practically won with nothing but a few nicks to prove it."

"That's not how it works, Robin. The severity of one's predicament does not negate the other."

The urge to shove him off the bed is getting real bad. I know he's trying to help and be supportive but it's only building up my anxiety. I'm growing more restless instead of peaceful with his words. How can he say he knows the same level of the pain I'm in?

"See, this? This is what I was talking about. I cannot deal with this criticism right now. It is not helping me get over things. This talking thing is not going to work until I'm ready for it!"

"You never will be ready for it."

"I may," I protest childishly.

"You won't," he presses back even harder. "I already told you, I've know what you're experiencing."

I can't help but roll my eyes. "I find that hard to believe. You've been groomed all your life to handle warfare and fighting."

"True," he nods though he doesn't look any less resolute in his stance. "I may have been trained to adjust quickly to the sudden tide of battle. But nothing you learn will ever prepare you for losing a comrade. The pain is only worse when it's under your direct command."

Chrom goes very quiet all of the sudden and turns away hiding his face behind his hand.

"If...if you had passed on, you would have been the third Shepherd under my command to do so."

My heart stops. "W-what?" I stutter in shock.

"Is that such a surprise?"

Oh my God. He mean it. "I didn't think something like that would have happened to you. The Shepherds are all elite and experienced. I mean, who could have...I mean, um, that is...Sorry, I shouldn't pry."

"It's alright. You wouldn't have known. They came well before you. This was back when I had just left boyhood." His gaze seems far away. "I never told you how the Shepherds actually formed, did I?"

"No," I practically whisper, still thrown by what he just said.

Chrom leans back on his arms and watches a bird hop around the windowsill pecking in the cracks. "After the last war ended, Emmeryn did everything she could to rebuild the country. There was so much that had to be done. The economy was a mess and all our foreign relations had fractured under the years of fighting. There was no way my sister could repair everything with the limited resources we had. So she had to make a choice."

"Her strategy made sense on paper. Detract all excess funds from our military expenses, aside from the minimum requirements. Expelling the military recovery from our rebuilding endeavors would allow us to maneuver more investments into the other struggling domains of Ylisse. And she had hoped that it would send a message of peace to Plegia. She feared building up another large force would seem like a direct act of aggression."

"That's noble of her," I remark meekly.

He gives a thin smile. "It is. Emm's always been like that. She believes that peace and harmony among countries is possible. That there is some good in all men. It's an ideal of hers I try to uphold as much as I can."

That actually explains a lot about his mannerisms. Picking up people in the middle of a ditch and inviting them into the palace makes so much more sense now.

"As much as I wanted to believe in Emmeryn's ideals," he continues, "I acknowledged that we hadn't fully reached that point yet. Disgruntled Plegians still assaulted our borders and the desperate among our own kin turned to banditry to feed themselves. It was more than our small army could handle."

"The only solution she saw was to start pressing forth more capital into our defense program. But doing so would have fully stopped progress in other areas of need. The university's reconstruction would have been halted, several outlying thorpes would have gone hungry, and several negotiations with foreign traders would have gone under. Either way, hundreds would be suffering from the decision. There was no winning regardless."

So she was stuck essentially. Damned if she was, damned if she wasn't. Not a great place to be in when the fate of a country rests on your shoulders. Suddenly my own problems seem a bit smaller. What's my angst to being the Exalt and knowing hundreds of people were starving and dying under your watch. Man. Why is everything so much more severe than I thought? Royal life is harder than the movies make it.

"I was determined to do something. My sister had been too young to pick up the throne and she worked hard to gain the respect she deserved from the court. This dilemma would have been her undoing. Regardless of who came out the receiving end, some in the court would scorn her for ineptitude and the people below us would lose faith in her. I couldn't let all her hard work vanish into nothing."

"So you proposed the Shepherds," I surmise.

My answer is rewarded with a brighter smile. "Yes. It was an idea that came to me one eve in the library. My ancestor, the queen consort to the first Exalt, was renown in legend for her band of vigilantes. A simple bunch of shepherds, like herself, who came together and protected their villages from the wilds around them. One passing day they came upon a group of travelers being ravaged by bandits. It was a fateful meeting that led them to the future Exalt. He praised them for their heroics and invited them to his side as a private legion of warriors who would do naught but uphold the protection of the people."

"I thought to myself, why can't I do that? I had just upheld my oath to wield Falchion." His eyes roam over the room and linger to where he had set the sword down earlier without my noticing. "It was my duty to now be the champion of our people. If I could do as my ancestor did with a band of my own, it could solve Emmeryn's problems. We could move independently of the normal military constraints and travel wherever we pleased."

"But what about funding it?" I ponder. "That was the primary problem to begin with."

"The royal family's personal coffers are very deep."

Once again, I'm taken off guard. "You pay for everything yourself?"

"Lissa and I both actually," Chrom states with pride. "It prevents us from throwing the elaborate parties the castle was once famous for, but that's a trade-off I'll rally behind any day. How could we even think to spend a single eve in excess when there are those that same night being accosted with no help at hand?"

"Wow. I had no idea. That's really incredible."

He colors a tad in embarrassment. "Thank you. Though I fear I'm going off tangent. My whole point to this story is coming around."

"The Shepherds were small at first. We didn't have a long list of nominees when first gathered. Aside from myself, the council approved of two chaperons picked on experience and loyalty to advise my decisions. The first was Frederick, an obvious choice. The second was an old retainer and dear friend of my father's, Sir Humphrey."

"Among the recruits was Vaike, Sully, Stahl, and a squire by the name of Maire. They all had such promise back then. I could only dream of the good we were all going to achieve."

"I don't recognize two of those names."

"You wouldn't," he remarks with little emotion.

"Oh?" The realization hits me hard and fast. "Oh."

"It wasn't even that many years ago but it feels like an eternity." His voice starts to lose strength as he goes on. "I still remember the feelings of our first day together as a group. Our first training run. Our first mission."

"I had Falchion at my side, having proven myself capable of wielding it. Because of that, I thought myself and the rest utterly blessed from harm. I was ready to pursue the ideal of justice and safety for my countrymen as my ancestor did before me. I truly believed we could take on the world."

Chrom's hands ball up into fists and his face falls. "But I was naïve to believe such a thing and brushed off Sir Humphrey's attempts to bring me back from the clouds. I became so disillusioned with my invulnerability that I became too reckless. And then one day we came across some brigands raising a ruckus on a primary merchant road. I led us in too deep and too fast. Had I restrained my enthusiasm, I would have lingered long enough to see the reinforcements charging from the trees. I did not though and soon found myself under the threat of being overrun. Frederick and Sir Humphrey charged through but the numbers were not in our favor. Humphrey was a great man and his lance carried a wide berth. He carved an opening big enough for Frederick and I to ride through. However, he..."

This isn't in the game. The Shepherds are perfect and awesome and nobody is suppose to die. Everything is all sunshine and rainbows. So why the hell am I listening to him talk about his teenage self watching a family friend die for him? That isn't fair.

And yet here I am watching a shadow of my own predicament happen before me. It's not pronounced and obvious like mine. Just a faint echo in the things Chrom does. The way his half-lidded eyes stare too deeply into the dark crease of the room. How his voice stays void and never wavers. The way he starts every few sentences with an unspoken syllable that turns into another as he struggles to find words for memories he never wanted.

"He died for me. Humphrey died so that I could escape and live. I swore I would never lose another man that day to honor his memory. And yet..." There's a brief flicker of disgust that passes almost unseen to match the sudden increase in power toward his next sentence. "I let my emotions take hold and I stormed their camp the next day. There was a platoon of cavaliers in a fortress nearby who would have readily joined us in capturing those rotten knaves, but I wouldn't wait."

"Chrom..." I choke out in barely a whisper.

"I was so caught up in my need for revenge that I lost sight of everything, including the archer behind me. Maire took an arrow for me. I didn't even know it. It killed her instantly and I spent the battle not even knowing she was lying right underfoot. It wasn't until we were checking for those still breathing among the fallen that we found her."

"Y-you should stop. Really. I get it. No more bad thoughts or anything," I put on a creaky grin that seems to sink more than float because I can only feel for him. "See, I'm totally cured. So you can stop treading memory lane and get back to the present again. Please."

I'm vaguely aware of my hand squeezing and receiving and equal pressure back in response. Somewhere along the way I had unknowingly reached my hand across my lap to lay a supportive grip on his own. There's nothing romantic or platonic or anything about the gesture. It's just a way for one human being to connect with another to share support in the tiny way she can.

Chrom looks weary but there's a brighter look in his eyes despite everything. "Cured already?"

"If it will stop you from continuing to remember for the sake of proving a point, then yeah."

"That's the thing Robin. I can't just not remember. Things like that never leave you. The intensity is dulled and the repetition in your mind lessens, but you never forget. And you shouldn't. It's a disservice to their memories. But it's also a disservice by letting that failure carry you down. You still have a responsibility to live for those still standing. Others are relying on you, and giving up like this is also letting them down. That's why you don't get to hide or roll over."

He looks me dead in the eye. "I won't claim my situation was any more severe or painful as yours. Everyone copes with these things differently. But I can at least claim a shared kinship of the situation. I'm hoping that's proof enough that you can stop fearing or doubting and at least let us back in."

I take a deep breath and feel a bit of the pressure on me subside. "I know. And I'll try my hardest to not just clam up again. But doing and feeling are two separate things. It's hard to shake something so powerful."

"I'm not asking for an over-night recovery." I feel a spark in the air. His old spirit comes back and he speak with a hint of playfulness. "Besides you own it to me at this point."

I raise an eyebrow, suddenly confused.

"I did believe you for dead. And there was all the worry and waiting. That's a lot of weight for one man to carry," Chrom declares, voice filled with mock fatigue.

"We're guilt-tripping now? Ah, your true colors finally show. I knew all that sage-like wisdom was too good to be true," I pout as I start to nudge him in protest off the bed with my hip.

"Hey!" he yelps, grabbing hold of the head-board to steady himself. "It lifted to mood, didn't it?"

"A bit," I comment wryly. I give him a final push and settle back. "Seriously though. How did someone so young get so damn wise?"

Chrom retracts his grip and sits back down beside me. "Experience. Age. You act as if I'm still a child."

"It's not that. It's just that you've been through so much more than most people your age have seen. It's astounding."

"Robin, I've seen twenty springs pass," he points out with stung pride.

Ah, right. His birthday passed while I was out. What a great way to celebrate. I'll have to make it up to him later somehow. Speaking of age...

"You know, that's not saying a lot from where I come from," I say as I think back to what I was doing then. It wasn't even that long ago. The things I've accomplished with the few extra years I have on him still doesn't come close to what he and the others have endured.

"It's funny," I muse. "You're still technically on the cusp of transitioning from underage to adulthood. I was just learning responsibility and where I wanted to go with my life. Wow. Now I feel even more ineffectual. What have I been doing with myself?"

Where have I gone? I mean, what I was living was safe. My life was manageable and predictable. I was in control of every element of it. My job allowed me to live comfortably and afford luxuries as well as daily needs. I had a small group of acquaintances to fulfill social needs and that was that.

I could easily have lived, died, and just become another faceless spirit to history's pages. No lasting impressions or contributions to the greater whole of humanity. The thought never bothered me before.

But now that way of living feels sort of empty. Like, where's the meaning in me being here? What's the appeal about living in such a small world like I did. Closed off and ignorant to everything around me save for what I knew. I feel like I stunted my own growth somehow. That I deprived myself of something. I didn't pursue enough and now I'm thrown out into the wide ocean and am scrambling to take in everything to accommodate that. Too much, too fast.

Hm.

Chrom's words break my concentration. "You've gone very quiet."

I lift my head, voice giving sound to my thoughts."I'm just realizing things is all. Little mistakes that led to big ones. Things I could have done or learned that could have helped prevent those mistakes. And...and how I've not done a thing to fix that. Even now, I'm just sitting here wallowing." I sigh heavily. "I'm in this big hole and it's so hard to dig out of it."

Chrom throws me a knowing look. "Usually when someone is in trouble they ask for help."

I wave my hand. "Yeah, they do. Hence the realizing."

The sense of shame I'm starting to feel is not the same as before. It's not so heavy and suffocating. It's more like a light blanket laying over me. It still is a presence that hangs over me and shadows my thoughts, but it no longer seems immovable. I'm stuck under it but, when I'm ready, I can actually throw it off my shoulders.

"Thanks, for this. I know I was a butt and all, but I'm glad you stormed in here and forced me to listen." I stare down at my arm mentally picturing what lies beneath the bandages. "So much happened that I wasn't expecting and it became one big mess that's just been screwing with my emotions. Acknowledging all that bad stuff and knowing that I failed so miserably made me think everyone would just hate or look down on me. Just cause I feel like that about myself, doesn't mean others will. That's been my biggest mistake."

"I'd agree with that. Along with disobeying your commanding officer and undermining his authority," Chrom adds without missing a beat.

I wince. "Am I still getting a lecture on that too?"

He considers the thought, then shakes his head. "We'll work on direction taking when you get back on your feet. I think you've had enough of my nagging for one day, as much as I'd like to make my displeasure known."

"Aren't I lucky?" I drawl. "Thanks though. I needed this even though I didn't know it."

"Sometimes you need someone to knock a bit of sense into you."

I make a face. "I'm already beaten bad as is. Can't we tickle some common sense into me? Or feed it in through a lovely piece of cake?"

He snorts in good humor. "I believe lessons are suppose to be learned the hard way. They wouldn't be lessons otherwise."

"I suppose not," I respond drearily as I lean back against the wall. My feet rock back and forth idly as I rest.

"Feel slightly better now?" he asks hopefully.

"Maybe."

"How about enough that I won't hear about you turning me away the next time I visit?"

"I suppose I could creep out and socialize."

"Good," Chrom grins. "Lissa has been asking nonstop and it was beginning to irritate everyone."

Everyone...

"How is Lissa? Has she been okay since everything happened?"

Chrom doesn't try to hide the irritation in his voice as he vents. "She slept with Emmeryn a few eves but has mostly gone back to her usual self. She's always trying to get back to the rooms here. It's a personal duty of hers, she believes, to help nurse Lon'qu back to health. Despite protests, she's sneaking off when she can to visit."

"Your protests," I ask slyly, "or his?"

"Both," he states bluntly, arms now crossed over his chest.

"Lucky gal. I'd be right with her if I could," I gripe.

"You can."

I sit up and draw my hand down my body. "Are you serious? Show up like this? No way I'm letting him see me as I am. I'd be mortified knowing he's seen me this messed up. Not like it matters though. I've probably lost in the attention-getting department anyway."

"How so?"

"I'm saying I know when I'm beat," I admit with pained defeat. "I'm not going to try to win a man's affections when a princess is vying for them as well. That's like putting a pony and a Thoroughbred before a knight and asking which one he'd like to take to battle."

Chrom looks utterly shell-shocked. He bolts right up and stares. "Y-you're...?"

"Are you honestly surprised by that?"

He nods unsure.

I can't help but press my hand across my face. "No wonder you have no idea about any of the little romantic side quests going on in the Shepherds. You're so dense sometimes. Doesn't matter though, like I said. He's all Lissa's as far as I'm concerned."

"That does not make me feel better." There's a particular intensity to the 'not' in his sentence.

"No, but there's not much you can do about it. Brothers should only invade their sister's privacy so far before learning to respect their choices."

"I'm aware. That doesn't mean I have to enjoy watching it happen." Poor Chrom probably still sees her as the baby sister who still needs protecting. "Can we change the subject?"

"Sure. I want to know how everyone else is doing. Like...like Marth and Chris. I know nothing of them except that they survived. Did they up and disappear again after the fight?"

Chrom freezes up. His mood tanks and I get a bad feeling. Uh oh. "You're making a very bad face right now and I'm getting worried."

He still doesn't say anything, only growing more agitated as he thinks about it. His silence causes fears to start to rise. I can feel the tremors starting to shake in my hands. I-I saved them. That's what Anneliese told me anyway. Nothing should have happened to Lucina and Owain. But from the way he's acting...Did something happen afterward? Did Anneliese feign ignorance because she didn't want me to know. Know what? They're injured? Dead? Did I-

"Robin? Ah gods, not again."

Chrom's got me gently by the shoulders and gives me a shake. "They're both fine. Marth and Chris are alive. I didn't mean to imply otherwise. Truly. They're both whole thanks to...your efforts." He pushes out the last part with some effort.

His confirmation is music to my ears. My lungs stop threatening to seize up and the adrenaline subsides. Alive. Good. Not dead. If they were, I don't know if I would have gotten over that. Those kids are so important to the future right now. We can't lose them. Not for anything!

"Why?" I ask. "Why are you so upset then?"

His hands fall to his side and he lets out a long stream of air. "Because. I...I wasn't going to bring this up today, not with everything we went through. However, the subject did come up."

"And?" I press insistently.

"First off, they are alive and fully recovered. They're also still in our residence along with their friend while she recovers."

"Oh, the manakete."

So they are still here? I guess that makes sense. That priest had them under one spooky spell. But Nah is here too? Lucina did imply she was injured from her earlier fight. But where's Laurent then?

He rubs his nose. "Don't even get me started with that. First a member of the Taguel race and then a manakete appears."

"That's bad?"

"Not just bad, impossible. Neither species has been seen in the flesh for years," he states with a hint of disbelief. "Though I suppose I shouldn't be surprised to see two legendary races reappear when we have Risen walking our lands as well."

"Stranger things are happening still I bet," I comment idly. More than I can keep track of.

"You speak an unfortunate truth."

That's sort of alarming. I glance over in surprise. "What now?"

"Did you notice anything off about Marth when you were with her?"

"Everything about Marth is weird," I point out.

"I mean...physically. You were in close proximity with her for some time."

"She's a girl, not a boy."

"Robin," Chrom warns with narrowing eyes.

"Seriously, no. Nothing at all. What are you getting at?"

He hums deeply and considers his next words. "Well, Anneliese noticed something interesting as her friend Chris was changing."

"He's really a girl?"

"Robin!"

Sheesh! Fine! "Chrom, you're being dodgy. Just tell me already!"

His hand comes up and settles over the brand on his shoulder. His voice dips to a deadly low and I have to strain to hear him.

"Chris carries the mark of the Exalt on his arm."

Oh.

Ooooooh!

Oh gravy! That is true, isn't it? He has one on his arm according to the game. If he was careless and didn't cover it then someone could see it. I bet Lucina is going to kill him. I'm going to kill him! What does this mean though? Someone had to have told and confronted them! Chrom wouldn't know otherwise. What would they have said to explain that though? I bet this has never been a problem before. Lucina is always gone by the end of the assassination event. She's never here. If this whole thing is true then is the secret out?

"You don't look surprised."

I startle and try not to stutter. "Ah, I'm just shocked more so. Are you sure it's the same thing?"

"I would know my family's own mark," he retorts stoically.

"Right. Right." We're boned. "That's, um, wow. W-what does that mean?"

"It means Emmeryn and I demanded to know the meaning behind them."

Frick. "And they had an answer?"

"They did. Marth came forth and told us everything."

Should I be panicking? I'm panicking. Why isn't Chrom panicking about me? Shouldn't he have said something? Maybe he doesn't want to rile me up? Too bad. Now I'm on high alert. What do I say? What can I say? This is not suppose to happen for a long, long time!

"Wait, so you know about...and she told you that she's...and they're both..." I'm going to hyperventilate if I don't breath. "Crap."

Chrom sits up straighter and I can see him start to bristle. "Are you implying...You knew?"

Sounds like Lucina didn't mention me after all. Ha, ha. "Um..."

"Gods, you did know!" All that nice friendly bonding we did? Out the window. I'm back in hot water again. "How?"

"I-she told me," I slowly respond.

"Why?" Chrom demands angrily.

He's on his feet now and his ire is growing by the second. The need to retreat is growing real strong. This is not the direction I was hoping this conversation would take. Nor is this the revelation I wanted dropped on me. Holy cow. What happened while I was in here? Clearly he's more upset with me knowing about this than the actual fact so I'm assuming whatever was told has already been processed and accepted. Still. How am I going to handle this?

"Robin," Chrom pushes, "why?" That's as firm a demand as I'll ever get.

"I...was only made aware of this in Regna Ferox." Partly the truth. The closest I'm willing to give until I know what's been exchanged between them.

"That's still a long time? Is there a reason?" He looks down and his voice dips. "And-and why wouldn't you tell me?"

"I don't know Chrom, maybe because the story sounds crazy? Maybe because I didn't need the cloud of doubt hanging over my head to be a little bigger than before at that time? Remember the whole deal with Raimi at the wall?"

Chrom starts to pace, the rapid tap of his boots echoing around us. "It is insane. I can't even begin to fathom it myself. We've questioned them both and the stories are the same. Emmeryn has someone looking into the facts but I doubt there will be any solid proof given that it's all been lost to the past."

He's taking this really well for someone who just met his future daughter. Maybe a little too well. Sure, he's visibly upset but I would expect there to be more than what he's exhibiting. Something about this all seems off.

"It's really something. Hard to believe...she's related and all," I press out with the deepest of fears to what will happen next. I can't help but close my eyes and wait for the outcome.

"To think all these years...this-this won't do well for Lissa if their identities get out to the court."

I crack an eye open, confused. What? "L-Lissa?"

"It's not something we bring up because Emmeryn and I know the truth. But to others..." Chrom leans with one arm supporting him against the wall. The other supports his chin and his fingers tap against his cheek as he lets his thoughts stream out. "You may or may not have noticed, but Lissa's brand never surfaced. At least not yet. It's caused some concern among the nobility. The accusations aren't made in public but rumors float around nonetheless. There was a long period where my mother and father fell apart due to their differing opinions on my father's decision-making about what was best for the country. She spent time away in the eastern palace while my father continued to reside in the capital. You can imagine how that sent tongues wagging in gossip circles. Even when they returned together and my sister was born, some accused her conception of being too soon after their reconciliation."

I think this was in the game too, right? It was mentioned in Owain's recruitment chapter about Lissa not being the Exalt's daughter. "They think she's not your full-blooded sister."

"Yes. Which is ludicrous! Lissa is as much my sister as Emmeryn is. But if the news of Marth and Chris get out, that my father has two illegitimate children of his own...Imagine what they will say of her."

Whaaaaaaaa...?

"A sister and brother? From your dad."

His voice quakes in a quiet rage. "The ages lines up with their separation. Chris' brand and Marth's facial features match my father. How could I think they are anyone else but who they claim to be?"

Well your daughter and nephew come to mind. But clearly that's not the angle Lucina went for. All the same, well played. Apparently she had a back-up plan for a situation like this happening. She's thought of everything hasn't she? Other Robin taught her well.

"This must be hard. I'm sorry," I offer in sympathy.

"More than you know." His eyes flicker to the side, staring me down. "The question still lingers. Why do you know about them?"

Yikes.

I-I have no idea what to say to that. Unlike them, I never thought about this occurring. What do I do? I don't want to make up something specific and then he asks Lucina and she says something completely different. Then we'll both be in trouble! But what can I say that's vague enough to placate him?

"I-"

He waits quietly with a burning intensity. I can feel my throat start to constrict in fear. This. This is exactly what I feared happening today. It isn't for the same reasons but I've found myself boxed into a corner. I don't know how to answer this without ruining her perfect cover-up.

"I don't know why," I state lamely. The stupid amnesia excuse is the only thing I know how to use.

"You really think I believe that?"

"Considering that's been the situation since you've known me, I would hope so," I argue back.

"That not a valid excuse anymore. I know you're memories are coming back. You told me in the Arena that day. Regardless, that has nothing to do with knowing why she told you what she did."

I can feel myself start to get defensive. What does he know about what I can and can't remember? "A few things here and there does not restore years of memory loss Chrom," I press back. "As for Marth, I don't know. She approached me in a non-combative fashion on the field and said she wanted to help you all. I was all, 'Nice, whatever works. Help is good.' And, that's it."

"If it's that simple, then why don't I believe you." He marches up to the bedside and stares me down. "I interrogated that thief who surrendered, the one who worked with you. He seemed to think otherwise. The way you both interacted with each other was far from simple acquaintances he assumed."

I just want to scream to his face how right he is and be done with this stupid charade. This hurts more than ever before. But there's so many twisted truths behind everything that I can't possibly tell him. At least not yet when I have nothing to prove my words. But trying to keep up with all the lies when nothing is going as it should is getting to be too much. I don't know anymore. This is making my head hurt. This is all moving too fast and too heavy for me.

Chrom must notice my distress because he takes a step back to try and control himself. His exasperation at the situation is hard to mask. "Naga's teeth, why are we even having this conversation? After everything we've been through you still can't tell me the truth? Even something like this?"

Son of a pickle. You think I don't know that? Screaming like this in my head won't fix a thing though. I have to say something.

"You want to know why, just ask her. That's her story to give, not mine," I say in hopes of deflecting the question off me.

"I'm not asking her. I'm asking you," he persists.

"I don't have any answers for you! And will you stop looking at me like that?"

Why did I have to open my big mouth? This is ridiculous!

"Robin, I've been respectful of everything up until now. You've deflected me every time I ask about you. That's fine. When you're ready to talk then I'll accept that. But this is different. This has to do with my family. When it's something this personal I can't just let it go."

"Well then go ask your 'siblings'! Why the hells would I know about your stupid family affairs?"

"Because-"

I explode. "I don't know anything! Okay? I have no answers! I can't even find them for myself. I'm struggling to make heads or tails of this bloody nightmare. I can't even figure out why those bastards even brought me here! I'll tell you what, next time I remember something about your private family details, I'll let you know!"

My chest rises and falls rapidly with the great huffs I'm taking. I can't believe I just yelled like that at him. But I wanted to. This whole situation is aggravating. Why can't he just let it go? Yes, logic I know why he won't. But I can't answer properly so all can I do is scream and hope it goes away. Wow, way to act your age. Ball like a child and hope you get your way.

How did this go from bad, to worse, to good, to bad again?

"Robin." Chrom's voice has lost all of its anger.

"What?" I snap harshly despite feeling slightly alarmed at the change in his tone.

"Someone brought you here?"

I immediately go back over the words I just said in my head. Did I imply something. I yelled. Then protested. Stupid family details...

"Ah shit," I hiss as I bury my face in my hands. I slipped up, just like I feared. Lucina is going to kill me now.

The atmosphere shifts drastically. All the animosity seems to revert and sway to something heavier and somber.

Should I do it? Should I say something? It could backfire on me. Horribly so. More than it has already. But he deserves something, doesn't he? Chrom's been doing so much for me and I'm not giving anything in return. Even one small truth can't hurt too badly. It is halfway out in the open anyway. I just can't be careless about what I say. Too much and...I'm being so negative. I keep worrying about what he'll do and every time I'm proven wrong. And wasn't game Robin forgiven super easy?

This isn't a game though. This is real. I don't have the benefit of plot convenience to help string along events. If these people don't like what they hear, I could be in serious trouble.

Something tiny wriggles in from the depths of my conscience. It's a tiny memory of the two of us before the inn fireplace talking about his trust preferences. And then another slips in about me and Sumia starting to bond. My first real one in the Shepherds. And then the wall. Frederick and I talking. More and more about trust and how I keep forgetting to give back when I've fully earned theirs.

Haven't I learned by now? Maybe it's time to make that leap of faith finally. What's there to fear after all?

He wants the truth? Fine. He'll get my truth. No time traveling or any of that nonsense because that really isn't my story. That's all Lucina and other Robin's problem. But me? I can do that. At least I can give that much.

So I do.

"I was kidnapped."

The line hangs heavy over my head, deafening even after I finish uttering it. I don't dare raise my eyes because I fear what I might see in response. And then, it all comes pouring out.

"I don't why. One minute I'm in my home and the next there are these people I don't know staring me down. Don't ask for faces or names because it's still a mess. They knocked me out and then I woke up in the middle of nowhere with nothing but a head scrambled and void of my whole life save for a handful to get by on. Three people I'd never met before ended up dragging me through a strange landscape until some dumb thugs decide to ruin everyone's day. Suddenly I'm saving somebody's life, getting threatened by pointy objects and then...then taking somebody's life. That's not what a...what a baker does on your average day."

I hear his breath hitch. "Excuse me?"

I try not to vomit on my own words as I push out the rest of my tale. "I'm not a tactician. I'm a baker, okay? Strategy for me was more of a favorite pastime I devoted a lot of attention to. Like chess and whatnot. I was really trained to bake bread and food and serve the public with a smile even if they're being an unbearable shrew. But I had the map on me and I wanted to help and I lied and now I'm here. So all this shit I've screwed up with and caused to happened should make a lot more sense now."

"I mean it. I don't know what's happening. Memories come back but it's only a trickle. And Naga knows why I wound up where I did or why some sarcastic simpleton in the backwoods of nowhere would mean anything to anyone. I'm not a genius or have money or come from a famous line of heroes. I'm just a baker. There's no prophecies or dreams or lineages for me to uphold. I'm just me. And yet, I'm still here without a damn clue as to why."

"So there it is," I breathe out a final time. "I don't know anything. If you want answers, go ask the kid who actually seems to know what she's talking about. I don't know what's going on anymore. I barely even know myself after those Grimleal attacked. But, it sure isn't close to who I was before."

The chair next to be scrapes as Chrom falls wordlessly into it. He gazes at me for a long while and I can only look away in response. That ended up being more than I planned to say. But it came out and I really don't care anymore. I'm too tired for all of this. Everything hurts and nothing is wonderful. Hurrah.

"A baker."

It was funny the first time Lucina said it. Now, not so much.

"Why?" he murmurs.

"Why what?" I mimic back.

"Why play the role? Why jump into battle when you needn't have? And why live that way if that's not who you are?"

My pointer finger picks at a thread coming loose off of my blanket. "Because it's all I had on me to identify with. And why wouldn't I try to help? People were in trouble. I had tools to aid and put them to use. What else is there to say?"

"Most in your case would run the other way. Not charge in recklessly with the odds of death looming in their favor."

I shrug. "I really didn't think anything of it. Isn't it our duty to help others? I mean, it's just human nature to reach out and help when things get bad. I stumbled on someone in trouble and ended up intervening."

I finally force myself to look over. He's regarding me with an unreadable expression. "That's a noble sentiment" he murmurs, "though not as well pursued as one may believe. Usually one doesn't jump into a fight unless they are under the pretenses of gaining something from it. Or it's a direct threat to their own possession or interests."

"Oh. Guess I'm an oddball then."

"Hm."

Somehow we've rounded right back to the beginning with that heavy silence making everything strange and foreign. I just want to disappear into the ground. Eventually, I find some courage.

"You happy now?" It ends up coming out more bitter than I would have liked.

"I don't know what to think," he answers back neutrally.

"Oh."

I ruined everything, didn't I? I took a gamble and blew it. Maybe that's too harsh. I could be getting arrested right now for impersonation or something. There's that.

Chrom slowly rises without a word, much to my surprise. Even more startling is when he steps around the chair and heads toward the door.

"I should have Anneliese refill your tea. It's probably cold," he says in the same dull way he had before.

"You're leaving?" I question, bewildered by this weird set of actions.

"I can't tell her if I'm in here." Was that suppose to be a sarcastic joke or something? I can't tell because of how hollow he made it.

His ambivalence is starting to scare me. I can't help but ask. "So you're not going to question me about anything?"

"No."

"That's it? The visit is over?" I sound desperate.

"I have a meeting with someone of import later today. It'd be best if I left now to prepare for it."

What the heck? I don't understand. After everything I say and Chrom just wants to leave?

He reaches for the door and pulls it open. He doesn't even look back when he utters his final line. "If you need anything else, let her know."

And then he's gone.

I...

I...

What?

How?

What just happened?

I can only stare at the door slack-jawed. Did I screw up?

Naga, preserve me. What did I just get myself into?

---

A/N: I don't know if I should be apologizing for the length. I started writing and it sort of just flowed out. Some of my own frustrations and fears with my promotion and leadership helped to fuel some of the doubts in the chapter. This was a bit of catharsis for me I guess. But there's so many words and I still couldn't fit everything! Too many thoughts floating around that I wanted to get out but couldn't! Did I also mention this isn't strictly sticking to the story line? It's not. Not entirely. Hope that's not a bad thing. Anyway, I'm off to find something utterly happy and uplifting to watch. The feels man, the feels! Cheers!

---

Review Responses -

Arthogawa – Yeah, Robin's in a bit of a mental pickle right now. Even with the talk she's had and the support that will be behind her, it won't be going away just like that. She's got a guilty conscience, low self-esteem, and feels ineffectual in the grand scheme of things. These strong feelings will linger still and take work to get rid of. But once you hit rock bottom, the only way is up. The thing with her is she's been so caught up in the physical side, learning to fight and wield magic and whatnot, that she never mentally prepared herself. She's neglecting the actual basics of her role, which is all intellectual. Trying to throw in a tactics book in between the million others things she's trying to master is doing her no good. And it came back to bite her. She's starting to realize that now so the little changes will progress her forward. That's what growth is all about.

You know, one thing I do hate about first person POVs is that loss of ability to jump into other heads. Chrom's emotions are only available through the visual clues he offers. And though Robin is very perceptive and notices more than most, she can't read his mind. So big chapters like this where their relationship evolves makes me wring my hands because I would love to give his side too. There are things going on behind the scenes that Robin isn't aware of that is affecting and influencing his mindset so there's so much left unsaid. But you are right, this isn't a "simple friendship." My aim was always to give a reason to why the game made these two as close as they were. I've always been open about what the final status of social standing was. All that mattered was that the "bond" was there. That inseparable force of emotion that would make the one die for the other. Of course I'll also point out that whatever happened with Other Robin does not apply with current Robin as they're different. But if what people think is truth and history repeats itself, well awesome! I've done my work regardless. Hopefully.

sylveon-bit-me - Believe me, I will be writing for a veeeery long time. This is my pet project and helps me chill after work. I'll still be typing away in my own little hovel.

I'm super excited as well. The shift in tone when that dancer came on and the music started gave me those excited goosebumps. And I love the art style and seeing it come back again got me one hundred percent more amped. This is going to be a long wait!

ArcherShirou – Thank you! Great user name by the way. Fate/Stay Night and its other works are among my favorite works of fiction.

RoseNitemare - Glad to help spread the word! Be hyped! I sure am.

The paintings depict the history of something specific. While knowledge of game lore helps, it's not necessary to help guess it. A lot of the clues are in the story already ;)

timewastin – Always happy to reply. Wish I wasn't so busy but this is the best way I can respond! I do agree, there's lots of potential there. Depending on your definition of early, I would nominate Gaius as well but that depends on your own avatar's personal quirks.

I'll fit in some outsider introspection where I can. There's a few different people I can see Robin opening up to about the dreams and her condition so I'll see where that flows in best!

When the Moon Met the Sun – Heh, thank you. Glad that made your day! I slammed out the end of the chapter just so I could revel in the news with everyone else. I'll be keeping spare change under my pillow until the very day I can preorder it!

That chapter was very epic. Took a lot of tea bags to get through! Robin's enemy is very persistent about getting their way. They aren't the type of enemy to sit on their laurels and wait. Expect them in the creepiest of places! But wherever they may be lurking, her friends(?) will too. Well, when they get better anyway. I'll drop a hint someday if no one catches the main hint that gives away who their dad is. ;)

And there will always be Frederick and Emmeryn bits when I can find them. More than ever before because Robin is now aware there's something going on. Yes. Let me tap my fingers together and proclaim, "Excellent."

Random – I laid groundwork as a backdoor if I somehow found myself doing that pairing but I initially thought I couldn't do it the justice it deserved. Also I thought Chrom and Sumia was the most preferred coupling. Little did I know where Sumia ended up being steered toward. Suddenly she was off the market and I think I gave up after that. So now we're here and if that's where we go, awesome. Sail away!

King Keith – Eh, there ended up being a bit more than bandages and definitely some scarring. To someone like Owain, she'll probably end up even more badass than before.

Yes, excellent! I continue to do the fandom proud! Fate/Zero's Berserker was wicked awesome. Turning that jet into a weapon will always be a favorite moment. And the gate is open you say?May I request a slice of cake from the fabled En-cake-du?...Okay, bad pun. I'll see myself out now.

A Shadow's Lament – I figured you'd be one of the one's celebrating Shadow. XD I won't leak out precisely who's in her support log yet because things are still up in the air, but it was a smaller group that had some Shepherds, NPCs, and a "village maiden excuse" if nothing ended up working. This Robin is different from past Robin so her options are obviously going to be different.

I wholly suggest analyzing the paintings however you like. They're not just there to be pretty. Dreams are an intriguing mask for one's subconscious so there are meanings wherever you look. All of Robin's dreams have so far. One of them implied something veeeery important but I think it got read over. And thanks for the song mention. I love Coraline (Neil Gaiman is a personal inspiration of mine) and the movie was everything I had hoped it would be. Surprisingly, I never really looked into its soundtrack. I definitely will now!

The Overgoat – Oh my. Why would you put yourself through that story in one sitting. I could only take it in small doses. You get a gold star just for surviving that in a single go.

The new game has me super excited! If it was the SMT crossover, that would be interesting. It would also explain the golem's presence a bit more. I'm more inclined to believe not though since Atlus tends to spearhead the development of their games as opposed to the programming, like the Persona Arena games. I believe they did the art and writing but Arc System Works did the core development. And Intelligent Systems seems to be working both ends of this. But who knows? It looks shiny and I want it.

My advice? It depends on how long you plan on writing the story. I honestly think you'll be okay just on the fact that the new entry seems to be in a whole new setting. You have a long time frame anyway before we'll even seen the newest Fire Emblem. On top of the time it will take to even finish it given the implications this is still early in development, you usually have a year span between the Japanese release and the rest of the world due to translations and file editing. So you'll have secured interest in FE13's plot for a while longer. If you have the passion and time for the story, then go for it! You had a unique premise going for your plot so continue it for as long as you desire. Hope that helps!

Titan127 – Yes. Grima is. Horrible and nasty as implied by the games. I'm not shying away from that! That paralyze heal will be great with the copious amounts of burn heals being tossed at her. Maybe a poke flute too to wake her up from the dreams. Poor thing. Anyway, thanks for the compliments!

Forgetful Dreamer – I honestly think you're right...I dabbled with ship tease and now I've created a monster. A wonderfully hilarious monster I'm still not sure how happened but laugh at nonetheless.

And sorry for the shortie. It was meant to be just a quick thing to cap off the last chapter since the length was abysmal. But we're back to our regularly scheduled programming. And don't worry too much. Dorky Robin will return in her full glory little by little. One cannot simply suppress the snark!

Skarrow – No worries! The ones you do write are very in-depth and helpful. I couldn't ask for more.

Good to hear the mystery is still strong. I've been trying to reveal more and more without being too obvious but I suppose I'm still being discrete. I thought the last chapter would maybe cause someone to catch on but not quite yet it seems.

Ah, I hear you with the off screen scenes. That's the one restriction with first-person view. You get a more intimate and detailed view of things at the expense of seeing everything through a narrowed scope. Scrapping the siblings' fight will be one of the greatest regrets I'll have with this story. Sometimes scenes just don't fit into the main plot no matter what I try.

And speaking of action scenes, no need to apologize there. I totally get where you're coming from. I played through Fire Emblem Sacred Stones and could barely tell you the details of the main plot. But the supports hooked me right in and I could gush for hours about them. Either way, it helps me in the end because it just pushes me to strengthen areas outside of what I'm good at. No harm, no foul.

I've had a few people request Robin and Owain interacting so that will happen. Considering he has a hero crush anyway, it would be hard to avoid him no matter what she did! As for Robin and Chrom maybe being a thing, it's a sneaky surprise for me too. But I had requests for it and experimented a little with the party in Regna Ferox and found it wasn't as difficult to write as I initially feared. So hey, whichever way the wind blows! I'm happy the support is there wherever we go.

Raiden312 – A very good and very interesting guess! It definitely has a message and the paintings are a huge part of that. But that's for all of you readers to deduce. Or not and you can just wait for the answers to come. Either way works just fine! Thanks for reading and reviewing again though. Delivering creepies is always a pleasure of mine.

RNGesus – Hey, welcome aboard! Ha, glad my grammar is still intact. I'd be a little worried if it wasn't and wonder why the heck I even have a diploma! Glad the plot is working for you though. My forte has always been horror so if I can get a reaction at least once and a while that makes me proud. Self-inserts vary so much so I understand it can be hard to find one that fits well with a reader's specific interests. It's a hard sub-genre to pull of but I like a challenge. Regardless, I'm pleased mine seems to fit the bill. Thanks for reading and I hope the wait wasn't too unbearable!