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...

47. Chapter 47

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

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Chapter 47

"...and then she says, 'Robin, you ARE the mother!' Cue the audience jeering and booing. Am I right?"

I roll my eyes at my own self commentary, reaching for the cup sitting abandoned in the corner of the desk. Numerous sheets of scratched up conspiracy theories lay scattered around it. A few fall to the floor as I pick up my drink, joining the crumpled balls of other rejected ideas.

"Might as well have signed me up for one of those dysfunctional family daytime talk shows. Next thing you know, I'll have a paternity test proving Validar really is my birth father."

I give a pathetic sigh into the depths of my glass, the super sweet tang of the wine inside causing my lips to pucker in surprise. I shake the fizz from my tongue and put the wine back down. "Too sugary for me. What I wouldn't do for a decent shot of rum. And let me tell you Bobbette, it would probably be anything at this point."

My pet plant dances lazily in place on the window's edge. The trip from the capital has done little to hinder her health. She continues to grow and thrive under the sun's ever present rays. I think she's gained another half an inch in length since I last checked. Her stalk might start bending soon if I don't get her another pot.

"I thought you were supposed to be a flower, not a weed," I joke lightly.

A small burst of wind ruffles up Bobbette, causing her to sag in a way as if to sulk from my response.

"So sensitive! I was just playing," I apologize through a not-so-regretful smile. Sorry Bobbette. You may be my precious sprout, but that doesn't save you from my incorrigible teasing.

I reach out and lift up a velvety leaf with my forefinger. Where one single bud had just begun to form, now several more have joined it. I'll have a regular set of blossoms by the time it blooms in full. I should look into what sort of plant she is sometime. Then again, maybe I'll just wait and bask in the mystery of her final showing. I don't want to spoil the surprise of what her flowers may look like, not after waiting this long.

I tickle the underside of her leaf and turn back to my work. "I'll still call you the prettiest plant around regardless of if you're a weed or not."

So what if I'm really attached to my plant? Sue me. I'm a doting parent to Bobbette, maybe even more so in an attempt to fill the void of her brother back home. My poor Bob. I miss your prickly little limbs so much! And your little brown pot decorated from glue and Christmas glitter I made for a sophomore science project that had long since died.

Even if...even if all my stuff is gone, as it probably is by now, I know Julliet would have kept Bob. Just like she has that mangy old cat that hangs around, Bob was my pet. She would take care of him just as I would have taken care of Lethe, even if that feline did eat all my previous plants before the last one. He isn't known as Bob the Fifth for nothing.

I pick up the wine and tilt it back and forth in thought. Feeling a pang of loneliness for my absent friend, I raise the cup in appreciation to her.

"Wherever you are, here's to your unending support of my Bob. This if for you Jules. God knows this wine is more in your tastes anyway."

Of course, I get no answer. The room around me is empty, filled with nothing but thoughts. Papers lie scattered with one crap plan after another reminding me of my failure to grasp the unknown. I learned some of the truth guiding this world's tragic back story, and it didn't hit me until a few hours after I left Lucina to recover on her own. I was in the middle of a bath when the severity of, well, everything sunk in.

I stared at the ceiling well past the water getting cold. I blanked for two hours, replaying everything through my head on repeat. Robin. Grima. Her family. Her legacy.

As I sunk deeper under the water, a great loneliness took hold. It's natural when feeling burdened to seek out a companion to relieve that feeling. I wanted so badly to find someone to help support me with the emotions threatening to burst out. But, I don't really have anyone.

That's slightly untrue. There is a small core group of people who are knowledgeable, if not completely aware of what is happening. Of those people, the only one I am on friendly enough terms with is Lucina. I don't really, uh, trust Anna yet. She's...different than what I first thought. Anyone else I'm just not comfortable enough with to divulge such personal thoughts. And I feel like I should be Lucina's rock. She's endured so much. I hate burdening her with more. It's times like this where I could use an outside party, just like myself, who understands the situation and can offer a healthy perspective.

"I wish you were here Jules," I whisper to the empty air. "This was always the sort of thing you dreamed of having happen to you. If anyone would have an idea on how to survive this, it would be the Fire Emblem expert herself."

I close my eyes, remembering the one person of my past who I have the clearest recollection of. Julliet is the earliest friend I can remember, and the only one to last from high school. I can't forget her signature giggle that ends in a snort, nor the constant smell of baked goods that lingered around her. It was her stubborn dream and forceful optimism that gave me any sort of ambition. She was what got me through the depression after my mother's passing. Jules might not have all the answers, but she would always have something to say about it.

"You would be so pissed at me, wouldn't you? I can hear it now. You would be ranting and raving about me striking out with Lon'qu. Oh, the ideas you would have concocted to make it somehow work. I guess it's better you didn't. I can't imagine Owain with another man as his father now that I've seen them together."

My smirk breaks into a full toothy grin. "Damn shame though. I will mourn the loss of that fine behind of his. I wonder about you. Would you have waited for the war to end to go chasing after Priam, or would you have dropped everything to go running after him right away?"

With eyes still closed, I can see her riding like mad day and night through a dramatic montage of backgrounds to reach her fictional love. "Yeah, that's accurate. You would have left right after the fight in the Arena. You would brave the elements and time itself to race across the country and find him. Then, on arriving at his village, you would go swoop in declaring your everlasting love for him."

I raise both arms and slap them together overhead. "Then reality would smack you in the face, just like it did me. And everything you daydreamed about would go the exact opposite of what you expected."

I open my eyes and find the scene blurry. I blink, realizing they're brimming with the very beginnings of wistful tears. I cringe, tightly drawing my eyes together to dispel them. I sit upright, rubbing away the last from my eyelashes.

"Jules, what do I do? I'm so confused," I whisper, all my earlier joy gone. I stare at my exposed right hand, unblinking.

"Why did I think taking up Robin's role was the smart thing to do? Because it was the safest course of action? Because I thought I could do it?" I clench my right hand shut and turn my face away. "What a joke. I should have just gave the truth. Or ran. Running would have been good."

I think over everything that's occurred until I got here. All the experiences. The death. The scars.

No, running wouldn't have done anything to my benefit in the end. I'm not sure how I got away the first time, but I highly doubt I could have avoided my kidnappers a second time. Marc and Echo were flying around the countryside obviously looking for me. They could easily have taken me back.

Unless...

Could they have been the reason I was separated from my captors the first time? They did seem keen on splitting from their so called allies in Ylisstol. Perhaps my getting involved with the Shepherds stopped them? It definitely halted the other kidnappers. Working so deeply with the Shepherds has created a protective barrier, in a sense, around me. It helped in the beginning, but now that power is starting to wane. The enemy is getting smarter and they were already able to weasel in so close to me. One setback won't stop them.

And what of the Grimleal? Validar has to know about me thanks to Letum.

Just the thought of that gives me chills. Validar could very well claim some sort of paternity over me one day. Ugh. I-is he going to have the ability to control me just as he did the original Robin? I have the mark. I am...I think I am susceptible to his power. I wouldn't doubt it if he could take hold of my actions just as he did the original. Great. A wonderful thought I'll have to take into consideration now.

I get up and throw aside some papers on my lap. I casually bend over and begin to pick more sheets off the floor to burn. So many discarded plans and ideas, a product of hours long brainstorming hitting a mental block one after another. One armful later, the floor looks hardly any cleaner.

I dump the trash in a tiny fire barely holding to life in the fireplace of the study I'm using. It's a bit too lush for my tastes, but I gratefully accepted the peace when I asked Maribelle for a private place to work. The flames crackle upward as they greedily consume the new fuel added to it. It brings more light to the room, filling the darkening crevices of the space as the sun begins its final minutes of descent into the sky.

My eyes catch sight of my own reflection in the mirror over the fireplace. It's only a passing glance as I go to turn away, but it's enough to drag my attention back in. Only because of my prior thoughts are my image of any interest.

I rest my arms on the mantle, staring back into my own face.

Lucina said I look just like her. I raise my marked hand, wiggling the fingers in a way of greeting to my reflection. From the outside, I resemble my missing other self. Now with the revelations of the mark and how my presence in the story has once again kept the Shepherds alive, I realize just how much has come full circle.

This world, this time line, doesn't care who has taken the missing tactician's spot. The fact that I'm here has automatically made me the new substitute. My looks, actions, and whole being have become some other woman's story. If it weren't for the memories telling me otherwise, I would be no different than the original Robin.

I brush my bangs to the side in a way I remember the original artwork of her. Pulling at my now grown out hair, I can gather up the strands and fashion it in a much shorter version of hers.

I raise my chin and turn from cheek to cheek trying to imagine myself as if I was the same Robin. A brilliant, if not lost, woman struggling to guide a war while fighting to make a new life for herself. It's hard to say when looking at your own figure. You're so familiar with your face being your own. It's hard for my brain to process it belonging to anyone else.

My right hand lets go of my hair and presses to the mirror, the cold sheet of reflective glass separating my palm from the other side. I wonder if her palm had felt warm, or did it feel as chilled as mine has become recently? An unknown twin in a separate world, identical in every way. Well, all except the eyes.

Lucina's words remind me of that mistake. One simple thing sets us apart. Though never elaborated on, we apparently have different colored eyes.

It never bothered me before. We are different people after all. I never attributed my parentage or genetics to match her own. Why would we be the same person? My parents surely couldn't be hers, two Grimleal worshipers. That's just insane.

Things are different now.

I won't lie, Chrom did put doubts in my mind. Horrible doubts about my mother I should be ashamed for. I have no answers for them. I don't even know what I should be questioning. Yet, every little thing is beginning to make me question her. Even something so small as a change in iris color. It does stand out. If Robin and I were as identically physical in every aspect as Lucina had said, why this one difference?

I always assumed I had gotten all my looks from my father's side. My mother looked nothing like me as I've come to remember. Why parts of her still remain blurry and lost to me is a mystery. I suppose it's the way most things still are. I remember enough, which is great! It's some of the important parts that stay hazy. What I do recall is that the mother I knew looked very different from her original self. She dyed her hair, even admitted she got a nose job once. My mom hated that she looked like her own mother. Every time she saw her reflection, Mom said it reminded her of the woman that cast her out. Though her hair was always bleached, she couldn't hide her natural eye color. Suffice to say, it was not the same shade as my own.

I've been thinking about pretty much everything at this point. Things I've never wanted to dwell on I now force myself to. A part of me keeps crying out to stop. To bask in the former ignorance I had and stay safe in the darkness of the unknown. It's impossible. I followed Lucina down the metaphorical rabbit hole and now I have to accept it and all the possibilities that come with it. Where does one begin when there's so much to contemplate?

I tear myself away from my reflection, the hypnotic dancing of the fireplace causing my eyes to glow almost yellow in the room's dying light. It casts an eerie illusion that reminds me of Letum's gaze, the one that still haunts my dreams and causes me to wake up gasping in the middle of the night.

I force myself to bend down and busy myself with cleaning up the mess. So many thoughts ending half-way through a sentence. That was my mistake in the beginning. I tried to think about too many things at once. It was overwhelming, trying to decide one thing and then to tie it to another. I jumped into the deep end without taking a big enough breath and it left me flailing. I wasted a lot of time when I should just have started with how it all began. How can I explain Grima or Robin's stories if I can't even solve my own?

Another stack of trash feeds the flames, twenty more papers out of the dozens I must have discarded. In the end, I've only ten or so to make any sense of this madness.

I turn my back to the fire, leaning over the desk to draw the only salvageable notes I have closer. The sentences run sideways and vertical accompanied by notes in the margins and the occasional crude picture. It's not just for my benefit. This is for Lucina too. A collection of thoughts and theories we can crack apart together. Even though I've begun to come to terms with what I've written, it still causes me to cringe. I had spent so long grasping to my identity. It's what kept me sane. I was so confident in who I was and where I came from. Knowing that truth helped me survive the craziness of waking up in this world and enduring the changes that had come with it. In reality, my truths have become more like lies and I've been harming myself because of it.

I slide one sheaf of paper over another, the soft whisper of vellum speaking their secrets to me. To have one half of the story and not the other is frustrating. There's still so much more to fear. Too much.

The first part of this story I started with comes back into place. A simple retelling of who I am. The Robin I've known myself to be before all of this. Honestly, it's rather uneventful.

No memories of childhood still, probably damaged for good. A spotty remembrance of preteen to teenager years belying a girl who simply got by with just enough success to keep her mother happy. College years that passed in the blink of an eye with average grades and a quiet career that followed soon after.

The woman herself was nothing special. The Robin I was craved no attention or fame. I was happy with a simple, anonymous life doing the craft I loved. I lived in a small town and favored the few friends I had. I drank twice a week at the local bar to forget about terrible customers, enjoyed sappy romance novels before bed, and binged on tactical games during my days off. Skills included strong haggling skills, the ability to snark on the moment, and making the meanest birthday cake you'd ever see.

So why was I so special to these generals?

That blame could lie with my mother. There was a suspicious parallel between my own history and the original Robin's. Both raised by their mother far from their father, both equally steaming sacks of crap. I don't doubt Robin's mother traveled place to place to keep her child safe. My mother did move us around, but it was due to job opportunities. It was something people did all the time. As for why it was always small towns, it was just her preference. She never gave me any reason to feel as if we were fleeing some sinister forces. The man who was my father was simply a dirt bag and had no desire to raise me. An inconvenient accident, and it probably burned my mom to the core. It's why she never spoke of him. If anything, she got over him fast. It was her own family that set her off. Whatever life choices she made went against her parents' wishes and it burned bridges for good. She said she was basically exiled from her old life and simply chose to move on with a new one.

Again, not the norm, but it did happen to people. Sometimes a conflict is too deep for family to resolve. I never questioned whether it was my mother's fault or her family's. She was human. Mom was just as capable of making mistakes as any person, but it didn't change the fact that she was a good woman. She was a patient mother and a damn good cop. Whatever she did in her past is forgivable in my eyes given all she did while I knew her.

I don't know anything about Robin's mother, but she must have cared for her daughter just as mine did. She threw her life away to protect her child's. I'm sure she lived her life forever in fear, always searching over her shoulder for a Grimleal threat ready to take Robin away. How could she have ever known peace? So much sacrifice to keep her kid alive and safe. I've always wondered if she was the one who taught Robin what they knew. And what did happen to her? Did she die in battle protecting her child? Did she pass on like mine, too early in her years thanks to sickness?

I wonder how much of Robin was like her mother? Hair color? Eyes? Temperament? Genius?

It doesn't matter in the end. It's just another mystery lost to time. What needs to be focused on is the present. Me. My story. And that continues to one misty morning, six and a half months ago.

What do I remember? Pretty much the same as before. Waking up well before dawn to the sounds of my TV. I did the usual morning chores, grabbed lunch and my coat, and went to leave. I heard crickets, smelled the damp air, and then saw...

It's just a blur. Shadows. Pravitus' voice. Garbled words and...and nothing. No doubt that they must have used a spell or something to knock me out. Even if I didn't know how to fight back then, I wouldn't have gotten kidnapped without a fuss. I had neighbors, they would have heard me yelling or struggling. I had to be knocked out cold for them to take me anywhere. Which means after I lost conscienceness, I was transported here.

The 'how' is the easy part. The Outrealms. Anna and Lucina have confirmed they exist. One can assume that the generals used that to enter my own world and take me back to theirs.

Question two, why me? If the Outrealms exist, that means there is probably countless worlds out there to explore. There could be one to several possible versions of the same person existing in separate instances. So why was I the lucky one? I don't even come from a similar world. Mine is wholly different. How did I fit their ideals? Am I the only other version of Robin? Or, did they simply get tired of going from world to world looking for an alternative to use?

And, what about this mark appearing on my hand? I still remember that dreamlike memory I had. If the bruise forming was really this mark then...But how? That's impossible! Yet, the coincidence is too real. I've always debated what those generals could have done to me to make it appear.

Even that has some plot holes. Why would they have done anything? They haven't been referring to me as Robin. They've been calling me Grima. They think I'm already their creepy overlord, which absolutely makes no sense at all.

I began to really think. Given what I know, some major issues are appearing in this story. One would assume that Grima and the generals followed Lucina back to the past upon realizing what Tiki had done. The attack against Naga's daughter is proof of that. Word was slow to come to Ylisse given the war in Valm right now, but the attack on the Mila Tree was devastating and without survivors. It was done in darkness, but those who saw the destruction from afar blamed it on a beast of great size. Another manakete, they whispered. Considering Pravitus is running around in full form, I could guess the honor belonged to him or another of the generals. Maybe even Echo and Marc.

Something went wrong though. Like Robin, Grima went missing and the generals knew that. Worried, they went to find their master. This is where I found a major hole that blew up any theory of mine.

Grima is supposed to appear in the same time frame as Lucina as far as I remember. Validar was resurrected by Grima after all. Yet. Yet! I woke up in the same place as Robin did, clearly having already ran away and escaped from the generals. I already had some injuries, and Marc's words on the plains confirm she had been looking for me.

This would suggest that a) the generals had known Grima was missing for a while, b) they had already been searching for their master and c) I had arrived in Ylisse before the events of Awakening even began. And what, pray tell, would this suggest?

Grima didn't arrive on schedule. The dragon and the generals had expected to meet up at another time in another place! I mean, think about it! Let's say they did get displaced much like Lucina and her friends did upon arriving in the past, the generals would not have reacted the way they have. They would still be looking for Grima. Hell, they might have even been there at the plains waiting for Grima's arrival if that were the case.

However, they did not. They had to have been around long enough to group together, wait, and realize something was very wrong. That something had to have happened, something that could have made their master end up in a whole other world entirely.

My fingernails scratch against the table surface as they slowly close together. I reread my scribbles over and over feeling my stomach drop out with each word. The timing of my arrival versus that of the story's predestined events are all wrong.

Grima just didn't chase after Lucina. No, the dragon had a plan. One all the generals were aware of. In the process, something went wrong. And along the way, I somehow got involved.

This is where I end up stuck again. I have no clues to what this plan would be if my theory is right. When did all the generals appear? What had they planned to do? What made them realize Grima was missing? And...why?

How did they end up in my world out of the infinite realms they could have stepped into. Why me?

There is nothing appealing about this so-called honor bestowed on me. As far as I'm concerned, I'm the last person to be crowned some world-eating death god. I'm no saint, but I look like a damn angel compared to other folk they could have used to fill Grima's role. I have good morals and a general fondness for humanity. I like being a walking sack of meat. I have no desire for genocide or donning a scaly set of limbs. Not my cup of Joe.

Why? Why, why, why?

It's a broken record in my brain. I've come to understand a little, but it's not enough. There are pieces in my hand but not all of them fit.

I hate this. I hate not knowing what to expect next or what to do!

"I envy you, Bobbette," I murmur drearily to her. "You can sit there so carefree and ignorant performing the life functions expected of you. I once did too. I miss it."

I wish I could think or say more. These papers should be filled with ideas for Lucina. My ramblings are barely enough for the amount of time I've put into this. No matter what I think, it just never seems like enough. And it's getting to the point where I'm just working myself up over little things. I've hit my limit for the day.

I kick a healthy carpeting of paper aside and crumple back in my chair, casually pulling my gloves back on. The ink has been dry for some time now, so I can start to fold the good letters crease by crease. I've become surprisingly adept at arranging and sealing them. Frederick made sure of that. I can't say I hate it. In fact, it's actually enjoyable. I get a bit of a power rush having the authorization to handle a royal seal of Ylisse. The Shepherd's seal, more specifically. While not as regal as Emmeryn's or any of her siblings' personal insignias, the Shepherd's still holds great power. Not anyone can read paper marked with this seal, and even fewer can use it. It's made it easy to pass notes back and forth to Lucina. Flash one of these "official documents" to a guard and they let you by without question. Lucina and I have both been able to reach the others quarters and deposit private notes for the other without fear of anyone intercepting them.

The papers flip and fold to a manageable size before I place them inside the larger envelope and apply the seal. I've found using my own magic to melt the wax goes faster than using a candle. Miriel likes to do it the old way and grumbles how Ricken and I cheat. Despite being the progressive thinker, Miriel still does have some old-fashioned quirks.

While the seal cools, I finish tidying up what I can. I can't help but feel worried for Lucina. I never wanted to put her through something like that. I had no idea the extent of what she had gone through. I can't fathom how she can even go on. She's pure steel and her will even stronger.

I don't even want to think about Morgan. God...In another world, those are my kids.

…...

Then there's Owain, Nah, and Laurent. All the children who don't exist anymore. Even Marc and Echo, who probably rival Lucina with living the worst life ever! It's not fair. These kids shouldn't have to go through this. It's just not right.

And Shepherds, they don't deserve it either. This whole world just keeps getting spit on and can't seem to find its way to a happy ending.

My head's hurting again. Great. Still so much to think about, but I've got these battles to worry about. I'm splitting my time between trying to figure this out piece by piece while carrying the wait of a war on my back. It's enough to make me feel crazy.

I spend the rest of the time tidying up. Once done, I tuck away my more private materials and lock them in the desk. Feeling the need to get away from this for a while, I tuck the envelope under my arm to take a walk. Lucina's room is not that far from here. I'll make a quick stop and see if she's around. She's been in and out a lot. Between Chrom's condition and working to welcome Emmeryn back tomorrow, I haven't seen much of her. The separation is probably best. I'm not sure how good it is for her to see me so soon after all those raw memories.

Jeez...that kid.

I care way more than I should. This is going to bite me in the ass later. Once you get too attached, you're never going to want to go home.

Hm. What a good question.

Where do I feel most at home now?

I pass by several guards, each acknowledging me with a familiar nod of the head. Even they've come to know me by face now. It's a bit embarrassing, this whole celebrity thing. I'm still unsure whether it's good or bad. Knowing how the court flipped so easily on the original Robin, I'm nervous.

I find the small corridor that houses the remaining royal family members. In a bold move, Lissa had Lucina and Owain stay in a set of joint rooms for visiting nobility and their families. If no one was yet suspicious of the two cousins before, this statement will really make it known now. Emmeryn had been slowly integrating the two into daily life, waiting for the best moment to unveil the bond between her and these two newcomers. The war changed everything. At this point, there's no way to gently let it be known. Regardless, I'll be happy for the two. It means they can be with their family at all times now. As for the others, Nah has no reason to worry. Nowi has barely left her side since the discovery of their shared race was made. As far as the elder manakete goes, Nah is an unofficial sister. I can't tell if this is good or not given how many times Nah has switched between looking ready to cry for joy or shriek in annoyance.

I'm eager to see Laurent again. He's apparently just over the border and expressing a desire to return and divulge what he's learned in Plegia. Lucina has confidence he'll be able to travel the mountain range back to our side with no problems, so I'll take her word for it. Still, I worry.

As I thought, the rooms are empty. All three royals are missing, off on another errand at Frederick's request. The guards don't even bat an eye as I make a request to head inside. As before, I quickly deposit the letters in Lucina's travel trunk. She specifically brought one with a hollowed out bottom big enough to fit her Falchion. It works for hiding the notes we don't want others to see. While most wouldn't open a letter with her name on it, Lissa is excitable enough that she would rip it apart without bothering to see the name on it first.

I put things back where they belong and exit before it seems suspicious. I offer a fake smile to the guards as I depart, a tired scowl replacing it as soon as I turn away. Still so much to do. I can't shake all these worries.

One hope I do have is that I may find a lead tonight. A major obstacle in all of this is the amnesia I still suffer from. Though only partial now, it's still damaging on several levels. I had a thought that maybe I could be suffering from some sort of magical ailment. Maybe a curse or spell was intentionally blocking my brain from recalling my memories? I don't know, but it's worth a shot. I'd like to ask Libra given his expertise with dispelling such issues. I briefly remember from earlier research that dark magic has the ability to cause such extreme alterations. Maybe he can do a magical CT scan on my brain for something?

His induction to the Shepherds hasn't been made yet, but I've been subtly nodding toward his recruitment under the reasoning that we will need a well-versed priest such as him in dark magic territory. He's done a lot of work with the Shepherds since Regna Ferox and has made a good impression. I don't think there will be much resistance in offering him a spot, whenever that may be.

Libra is one of three main caretakers handling Henry's care. With the dark mage's confinement located in the dungeons, Libra's often wandering about the cells offering help to the ailing imprisoned. His aid is usually rejected, but it's the thought that counts. Knowing it's his time of day to work with Henry, he has to be nearby.

Maribelle had refused to let Henry in her private residence so I'll get to take a nice long walk down to where the prisoners are held. Exiting the estate requires me to cut back through the hallways housing the Shepherds. Our wing is empty with all the members up and about in the rare free time we get each evening. Most take the time to head out with a friend or pursue an interest for the day. That's why I find it so surprising to see someone other than myself haunting the corridor.

I would have expected Stahl to be out fully armored and training with Sully at this hour. Instead, I find him standing in a plain set of clothing with a box in his arms. He shifts uneasily expressing doubt at the door he faces. He takes one sweaty palm and rubs it on the back of his pants before hefting up the box in his arms once more.

He doesn't hear me coming up beside him and startles violently when I call out to him. "Stahl, what are you doing?"

"Robin!" Stahl fumbles with the box causing the lid to slip partially off. It looks like some sort of dried stalks inside. He replaces it with a quick wave of his hand. "I, uh, hello there. Nice evening, isn't it?"

I look between his shaky smile and the bedroom he's fretting over. Counting down from the end, I recall the owner of said quarters and find myself even more surprised.

"Why are you standing outside of Miriel's bedroom door?"

"This isn't Sumia's room?" Stahl stares down the end of the hall again and hefts the box under one arm, rubbing a thumb under his chin in confusion. "Oh dear."

"Sumia is two doors down, shared with Cordelia," I gesture. "Before you try, she isn't there. Sumia just left maybe ten or twenty minutes ago. I heard Cordelia say they were doing drills with the other pegasus knights tonight."

The cavalier's shoulders drop, whether from relief or disappointment I can't tell. "Ah."

I point at package he carries, remembering the vegetation inside. Flowers perhaps? "Are those for her?"

He pulls it forth and allows me to see inside. Long stemmed flowers of different species lie neatly cut together. The aroma is heavenly and reminds me of the grasslands they were taken from.

"It's some of the flowers she wanted. I was on afternoon patrol and my route took me to the edge of the plains. I found these on the ride back. It's not everything she needed but I thought..."

Stahl trails off, the box closing slowly. The brief spark of energy dies to a heavy awkwardness. He looks as if he's doubting whether or not he's about to do the right thing.

"Stahl," I say gently, my heart reaching out for him, "you wanted to talk with her? About what happened the other night?"

"It's not what you think. I just wanted to, um, that is-"

I give him a stare of disbelief, one that causes him to drop his excuses in defeat. "Yes."

He holds just a tad tighter to the box trying to hide the faint tremor in his hands. Stahl falls back to his nervous habit of tugging and mussing up his hair causing several strays to pop out and make him look more frazzled. Stahl opens his mouth once to speak and ends up sighing. He closes his eyes in thought.

"It's true, isn't it?" he speaks slowly. "You would know, you are her friend."

"What about?" I feign ignorance, wanting him to admit the scenario with his own voice.

He swallows, falling back against the nearby wall. Stahl lets the box rest on stomach, fingers tapping one by one back and forth over the surface.

"Everyone knows Sumia has feelings for the captain."

"Everyone but Chrom himself," I correct.

Not that it would matter, if what Lucina said is true, as he's already preoccupied elsewhere. With...with...

I can't even say it.

"It's not much of a secret that Sully and I...well just myself I guess..."

Stahl rests his head back against the wall, his frown deepening to match the conflicted tilt of his eyebrows.

"Sumia, she's...She's nice. She actually listens to me. I enjoy her company and we've been spending time together more than we did before. Then she started acting differently not long ago and I had thought that maybe..."

There, that's what I wanted to see! The faint glimmer of interest. So Stahl is at least curious about her! He only convinces me more when he turns a perplexed, if not hopeful look toward me. Even though I really shouldn't, I find myself ruining the surprise with a guilty smile of satisfaction. He understands my wordless confirmation and his chest releases a breath of pent up anxiety.

"I couldn't honestly come to believe she would have somehow turned her attentions from a prince to someone like myself. Just a plain old soldier." He sighs sadly, staring at an empty hand. "Not even a knight."

"I'm surprised myself, to be honest. She really admired Chrom," I find myself agreeing. I step across from him, sizing him up and down. In his own way, I do think Stahl could be a perfect fit for Sumia. He's patient and kind-hearted, just as she is. If anything, his defining trait is how supportive and loyal he is as a partner. Sumia needs someone who can make her feel comfortable while still encouraging her to become a better woman. They share a lot of interests and make the most formidable cooking team in the entire group.

Someone tell me again why she couldn't support with him in the games?

"But," I start again, causing his head to raise up, "Sumia is a very compassionate person. She would put the happiness of her friends before anyone else. I won't name names, but there are others here who also have feelings for our captain. One who she is very, very close to."

"Sumia shared some interesting words with me once. I have a feeling she would rather step back and give up the pursuit in favor of said friend."

The recognition on his face, followed by the knowing glance at their bedroom door, hints that he knows as much about Cordelia as I do. Sumia might have even shared her own lamentations with him.

"From what I hear, you two get along very well. She's comfortable with you Stahl. Sumia feels like she can be herself and not fear ridicule over her actions." I smile teasingly, adding a wink in for his benefit. "She also like to brag that you bake a mean roast."

Stahl blinks in astonishment, taking in Sumia's admissions bit by bit. The more he does, the more his face changes color. He looks off to the side, biting down on the corner of his mouth where a tiny corner begins to peak upward. "She said that, did she?"

Growing more serious, I offer the only real advice I can for this type of situation. "Stahl, it's not my place to say anything about what you should or shouldn't do. Of course I want the best outcome for Sumia and yourself. But as a friend to you both, let me say this. If your heart isn't into it, then tell her now. Sumia is not the type of person to be lead on."

Stahl nearly drops the object in his arms as he jerks away from the wall. "Of course not! Robin, I would never do something as low as that."

"I know," I say quickly to ease any hurt I might have caused him. "I just felt I should say something. You seemed hesitant earlier."

"I was, am," he admits, settling down once more. "I still don't know what I was going to say."

Stahl peeks into the box again, staring hard at the contents. His looks soften at the thought of something before he picks himself fully up. He straightens out his shoulders and does away with his uncertainty for a more resolute stance.

"I-I think it was good she wasn't here," he admits. "I should talk with Sully first."

Ah, I get it. It's unfair for him to say anything to Sumia if he has his partner still in his thoughts. Sort of like how unfair it would be if Sumia still had Chrom on her mind when talking to him. I think he needs to settle his feelings with one woman before another.

"Thank you, Robin."

"For what? I didn't tell you anything more than you probably already knew."

"True, but it makes a difference hearing it from someone else." Stahl looks once more at Sumia's door. He seems more sure of himself. Good. "I guess there's no reason for me to be standing here any longer. I should go."

We part ways with a final farewell. If something does come of this, which is may, it will be an unexpected twist much like several other couples I have seen form. While Lucina has shown surprise at recent developments, she hasn't actually given her opinion on these changes. I'll have to ask her. I know she was keen on keeping her surviving friends and their parents together, but does that include those who have been gone? From both her word and what I could make out from the roster, when certain Shepherds disappeared due to death or simply not being recruited, remaining members could still marry others changing up the parentage of a child. What am I to do in an instance like that? So far letting things occur naturally has produced surprising results.

This time line business is so messy.

As I walk, I let my mind wander over the possibilities of who may be next in adding to the future gene pool. There hasn't been much romantic interest outside of what I already know. By now, everyone is taking bets on when Miriel and Vaike's "will they, won't they" courtship ends. Sometimes I see them acting real close. Other times, Miriel seems married to her projects while Vaike continues to flirt with other women.

Kellam and Raimi are still strong despite it all. He's trying not to seem too excited knowing Raimi has rode ahead to join Flavia when she arrives in Ironhold. The same can be said of Frederick, who tends to glance at the windows more often in wait for Emmeryn. Lissa remains in a romantic limbo with Lon'qu, but her admiration has yet to be doused. She's been taking slow steps with him, trading her earlier exuberance for patience as she slowly gets him to talk more and more. They actually can hold a conversation for a whole minute now without him looking away.

With only a handful of the remaining Shepherds left missing, I'm sure I'll start seeing developments soon. I won't make any obvious pushes if I can help it. I meant it when I said I would rather let things play out naturally. I'll offer advice if needed, but this isn't the game. I can't just pick and choose who to pair up with who.

That being said, I am curious to see who falls into the clutches of love and matrimony. Ah, um, aside from myself of course. That's still a messy subject for me to think about. Sort of like Stahl, I'm in a bit of shock over my situation. Royalty isn't as big a thing in my world as here. All the same, they do exist and the high standards remain in place for them. It's all fun to dream about finding a prince or princess to whisk you away. Reading the books or watching the movies leaves that gooey feeling of desire. That of all the people, of all the nobility, someone insignificant like yourself manages to charm another of so much importance.

Reality check, it's not fun and games. Especially in Ylisse where the royalty plays a large part in politics, becoming a consort to a royal family member is an actual job. There's court intrigue to deal with and maintaining one's reputation. Everything you do can set a trend or demean another.

I-

I know I can dream and I can pretend about certain things. I'm aware of my own desires and what seems appealing.

I also understand the truth behind certain responsibilities and what I'd be getting into if I entertained such dreams. Unsure as I am of everything, and how unappealing many aspects of such a life is, I'm not inclined to make any sort of moves at this point.

I just never actually thought that he was that serious. It's a reversal of Stahl's situation. Whereas Sumia turned her attention from a prince to a commoner, I'm astounded that anyone of royal stature would find me...

Interesting? Alluring? Dateable?

The one thing I have to do is make sure this doesn't ruin our friendship. More than anything, I need to preserve that if I plan on continuing to survive here. Chrom and I's bond goes beyond romance and platonic fondness. I've become such a better person since meeting him. I've accomplished so much thanks to his guidance and encouragement.

If there is one thing that holds me back the most about returning home, it's knowing I would never see him again. Even if he doesn't become Exalt, he has his duties to the throne. The chosen wielder of Falchion can't go gallivanting off to another world to play commoner in a small town bakery. He can't leave Ylisse no matter what excuse I could think of.

Oh, I made it to the cell block already. That was fast. .

Putting aside my thoughts, I head inside. The icy chill of the damp underground corridors force me to bury my hands in both sleeves. I pull up my hood for good measure as a drop of water hits my shoulder from the ceiling. A quick inspection found the major portion of this area of the wall still structurally sound. With the tower above having fallen to human influence, there's no need to worry about damaged rocks from a weakened wall. Major repairs are going to have to be done to a portion of the living barracks and the upper walkways, but that's a small price to pay for an intact fortress.

I work my way down through the suffocatingly dark passages. Lit only by the mercy of torches, the dungeons carry an extra ominous atmosphere that helps impress a sense of hopelessness on its prisoners. I approach the final door, a heavy metal shield as opposed to a door, that separates me from the cells. Two guards carrying on a conversation before they stop to salute me as I approach.

"Lady Robin," the left male greets.

"Hey there," I reply back. My casual nature always allows the guards to relax, as evident by the way they ease back to a comfortable position.

"Something amiss, my Lady?" his female partner questions.

"I'm looking for a young man by the name of Libra. He should be here somewhere. You would recognize him by his robes. He's a member of the church?"

The female readjusts the sides of her helmet, looking over her shoulder through the bars of the door. "Can't say I've seen him. Hal, you seen anyone?"

"He has long blonde hair. About this tall? Typically in white and gold robes?" I add, bringing my hand up a bit higher than myself to show off Libra's height.

The male throws his partner a cocky smile. "No. Only visitors we've had the past few hours were a few young maids off to heal the prisoners. Though, one of 'em did look a bit like you described. Tall and fair. Alwynne here was getting pretty sweet on her."

"Oi, Hal. Shut yer face already. You don't go saying stuff like that out loud," the woman shouts angrily, breaking form to raise a fist in threat. She barely collects herself, promptly stepping back against the wall despite the other guard's snickers taunting her. "Beg pardon, my Lady."

I try not to laugh at her expense and just point at the door. "It's fine. If you don't mind, I'm going to look about anyway. I have business I need to discuss with him."

"Sure you don't want to wait for him to come back out? It's not the nicest place to go pokin' around. Nothin' but a bunch of sacrilegious wretches back there," her companion advices in concern.

I visibly try not to flinch at his disgusted tone and demeaning sneer. Oh boy. We have a long way to go in repairing relations between Ylisse and Plegia. Another pet project for the future.

"I'm sure I'll survive," I manage to force out under a cheery falsehood.

The female unlocks the door quickly, sending burning glares at her neighbor the whole time. The slab of metal opens up with a low hinging creak that causes my bones to shutter. It's like stepping into a

haunted labyrinth. With a final salute from both, I leave them behind for my next adventure.

The hall isn't much different than before. Another man sits snoozing at a single desk in an alcove to the left. Paperwork and the prisoner roster are scattered before him. The corridor splits both ways with the first cells in view just a ways down. I remind myself not to stop and look in any of them. I'm not in the mood for hearing any obnoxious chatter today. While the vast majority here are quiet, that doesn't mean there aren't trouble makers mixed in. Deeper on, the worst offenders are held. Luckily I don't have to head that way. Henry's assistance in the battle has earned him a better confinement than his fellow soldiers. Situated in the prison warden's personal living space, Henry has access to proper comforts despite still being under a twenty-four hour watch. Much like Gregor, he won't be granted any further freedoms until Emmeryn is here and reviews his performance for herself.

I walk briskly down the stone pathway, my shadow continuously jumping about behind me with each torch I pass. The occasional slur penetrates the chilly air to remind me of the various men and women kept behind these walls. Reaching Henry's quarters is a relief. I make a pleasant observation of empty food dishes beside his door ready to be taken back to the kitchen.

"Good, they better be feeding him or Panne won't be the only one they're going to worry about," I say to myself, picturing a furious Taguel staring down the head chef in his kitchen. There's no escaping Panne's wrath no matter where you hide.

The guard on duty nearby doesn't even take notice of my arrival. The dark mage has plenty of visitors through the day prying him for information, so my arrival is no exception. I knock just to be polite before opening the door.

The two room apartment is rather spacey allowing Henry to move around and walk if he needed to. Nothing like a cramped prison cell. The quarters have been fixed up since his occupation and replacement furniture added to keep its guest comfortable. Had they not, I would have made a stern note of it to the current captain on duty.

Two sets of voices greet my ears. Preparing a greeting for both Henry and Libra, what I had planned to say turns into a startled exclamation when I see Henry's visitor is someone completely different.

"Ricken?"

"Ah! Robin! I..uh...um..." The ginger-haired young mage looks over in shock, not expecting me to be standing there. He fumbles with his robes for a bit, rearranging his words into something coherent. "Hi?"

Contrary to Ricken's brightly colored garb and perplexed embarrassment, Henry looks like a jolly ghost. Libra had allowed him to pick out some less offensive clothing to wear leaving Henry with a wardrobe of gray, long sleeved clothing and even darker hooded coats to match. With the sun's rays now gone, the dark mage has seen fit to remove his hood.

I've already visited him once so his laugh is one of happy remembrance. "Wow, more company? If I knew being a traitor would make me this popular, I would have done it a long time ago!"

"Hi Henry," I say kindly. While Henry gives a pleased chuckle, I turn to his company. "Ricken, what are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be with Miriel?"

He blanches deeply, cowering slightly in an all too familiar fashion I've done myself. He's hiding from her.

"I saw nothing," I speak quickly allowing him to breath out. Turning the subject around, I ask after my quarry. "Has Libra been here?"

Ricken scoots back into a proper sitting position. "Libra left not long ago. He said he would be back shortly."

Thought so. Those guards are going to be in for a surprise if the truth gets out.

I stretch out and nestle up to a nearby crook in the wall. "If you don't mind, I'm going to wait here for him. There's something I need to ask."

"Knock yourself out! Not literally though. They might actually blame me for that one," Henry squints somewhat seriously at the door.

"Blame you for what?" Ricken asks curiously.

Henry ponders a moment, then shrugs both shoulders and cackles. "Everything? What haven't they tried to blame me with?"

I cast a suspicious side-glance outside. I'm going to move Henry out of here as fast as I can. I don't like the trends rising around here. I turn the conversation around on my fellow mage's involvement here. "Are you helping out the healers again Ricken? I heard they've been calling on you quite a bit."

"A little. If I want to get a promotion in my career at the college, I have to show a proficiency in all forms of magic. That includes healing. I've been helping out where I can," Ricken answers, pointing to a healer's staff propped up against a table in the back. The gem looks lackluster, nearly spent in its uses. Sounds like he's been using it for more than just a few cases. "Though I'm resting right now. Libra had to help another cleric and left me here to keep Henry company."

"That's nice."

"It sure is!" Henry's ever present smile falters, then returns to normal so fast I would have missed it if I blinked. "He hasn't run away like the others."

"I'm sure Ricken can handle anything. Our associate can get a bit scary herself. I doubt there's much he hasn't been through at this point," I say half-jokingly. The fact that he's hiding out here from Miriel is proof of her sometimes overbearing pushiness when pursuing experiments.

"Please don't remind me," he sighs into the back of his palm. He removes his hat and places it in his lap, turning it slowly. "I'm just grateful she's changed her focus from experimenting on the Risen. That was a nightmare."

Henry tilts his head to the side in thought, the pinkish-red hue of his eyes dancing with curiosity under his bangs. "That's the lady with the red hair, right? Boy, was she something. I never met someone so interested in the Risen before! She asked a lot of questions about their guts. I even offered to help her blow open a few if she needed fresh samples! I always did wonder what they looked like inside out."

"Disgusting," Ricken whimpers to a matching look of revulsion.

"And gassy," I quip in reminder of their smokey demises.

"Heh, heh. Neeeeeat," Henry coos to himself while picturing something in his mind I'd rather not ask about.

"Anyway!" Ricken shouts abruptly. "If you see Miriel and she asks for me, tell her I'm busy."

"So I can see. What are you two crazy kids talking about anyway?"

"Killing people," Henry says nonchalantly.

"No! We weren't just talking about that," Ricken quickly corrects him. "Dark magic, actually. The, um, death thing is just part of it."

Interesting. I get comfy up against the wall for this conversation. "I'd imagine. Elemental magic has uses beyond just straight out murdering people. Why would dark magic be any different?"

"The principle is the same," Ricken admits. "From what Henry has told me though, that's where it ends. It's a strange school. The invocation methods and philosophies are all different."

"Are there a lot of practitioners Henry?" I ask the resident expert.

"That sorta depends. Any kid who has an ounce of magical talent in their pinky finger gets taken away to the magic school they have in the capital."

"The university of Dohlr Legata," Ricken adds with a knowing nod.

"Dohlr Legata?" I enunciate bit by bit to make sure I say it right.

"That's the name of the capital, taken from the country of old."

Ah, one of the old countries from Marth's era. Four or so went on to become absorbed into what is currently Plegia, including Medeus' old stomping grounds.

"How appropriate," I muse.

"Yeah, I don't really like that place. Those spiky rooms were the worst!" Henry complains lightly, though nothing about his face looks off put at all by his words. He's disturbingly calm about everything, never changing his expression. "What I mean to say is, a lot of students went in, but not many came out. So sometimes we have a lot of casters, those who don't die anyway. The lucky ones get picked up by the Grimleal. The rest go the army."

"It's all about how good you are," he continues. "That's why the Grimleal took me in."

"Because of how powerful you are?"

He waves away my compliment. "Nah, I'm just really good at killing people."

Ricken and I share a look, his voice shaking slightly in concern. "Henry, that's...not a good thing to say."

"Why not? Isn't that why you're in the Shepherds? You made enough Plegians die and lived long enough to prove how useful you are. Why else would you have been recruited?" He asks like it's the most natural thing in the world.

Sadly, he's sort of right. But, that doesn't mean it's totally true. We aren't scouted for our killing abilities but our talents! "Our standards are a bit different in Ylisse, Henry. For example, Ricken happens to be very gifted with his natural perception and overall magical power."

Henry snickers into both hands, his eyes holding a deadly gleam that pierce right through my explanation with his own morbid truth. "Yeah, yeah, that's all fancy talk. At the end of the day, it all amounts to being used for someone else's death, right? Your talents are only as helpful as they are keeping you alive and someone else dead."

Ricken doesn't answer. He's taking in Henry's words seriously, going pale in the process.

I try to salvage Ricken's sanity with an upbeat counter argument. "They try to do other things. Miriel and Ricken perform their own experiments. They aim to find ways that make life easier for Ylissean citizens and warriors a like."

Henry hums neutrally, the same mysterious grin on his face silently taking in and processing these new Ylissean customs.

"Maybe once things get better, you could help us out Henry," I offer in encouragement.

Ricken's head snaps up so fast the hat he had just refashioned on his head falls off behind his chair. His mouth open wide. "Uh, Robin?"

Henry, on the other hand, looks more than intrigued with the offer. He perks up, bobbing his head to the side in a similar fashion to one of his crows.

"What?" I say in defense of myself. "From my point of view, it looks like Henry is friendly. This is a rare moment, having a true dark arts practitioner on our side. I think we can learn a lot from him."

Like maybe how to treat any mysterious curses that could affect memory loss?

"Do you think? No one seemed to be happy with me casting last time," Henry answers in reference to his activities during the siege. Frederick and a few others were very, very upset to find out Henry had still been working magic despite working under another cleric's watchful eye. The crows were one thing, but apparently he had still been able to use a curse to kill a Plegian sneaking up on his handler from behind during the battle.

"You weren't supposed to be casting Henry," Ricken mumbles nervously.

"They took away my tome and said I couldn't use elemental magic. They never said anything about my curses!"

"You don't need a book for that?" the other mage gasps.

"Nah. Books help us look up chants if we need it, but I don't need a tome to do this!"

Two both our surprise, the air in the room spikes downward to a cold chill. Unlike elemental magic, I don't feel the power sifting from the environment around me. It feels like its draining from beneath me. A flowing current pools under Henry and into the souls of his feet. With a few mumbled words under his breath, he points to an end table on the other side of the room. The air discolors around his hand, glowing a vibrant hue of purple. It disappears into an invisible force that I can feel streak towards his target. On impact the, legs of the table are encased in a purple mist. It slowly begins to dissolve the wood before our eyes. In seconds, the wood warps and snaps causing the end table to topple downward to the floor.

Ricken and I gawk in complete silence.

"That." I say, breaking from my stupor. "Was. Awesome!"

"No, it wasn't!" Ricken shouts over my cheers as he jumps from his chair. "Oh Naga...If a guard finds out what he just did, we're in deep trouble."

Henry doesn't seem at all affected, staring smugly at the curse he just performed.

"I'll...I'll say I broke it after I sat on the old thing!" I volunteer after realizing Ricken has a point. We could be in serious trouble for not reporting Henry's little snafu. I don't want to get him in trouble and neither does Ricken or he would have already run off to tell. Henry was just showing off.

"Robin, that's not the point," Ricken warns. He twists the cloth of his sleeves, eyes darting to the door nervously. "Henry isn't supposed to be able to cast anymore!"

True. After easily ignoring the effects of the silence spell put on him, the clerics had placed extra strong wards around his room to prevent magic from occurring. I had barely felt them vibrate in response to Henry's magic, his power so strong it easily negated the effects of the wards.

"Kid's got talent," I mutter in awe, causing Henry to tinge pink with pleasure from the praise.

"Aw, don't worry about it. I don't want to get Panne in trouble, so I'll keeping faking it like nothing's wrong at all," he says innocently in his chair looking like a perfect angel. What a farce.

Ricken groans into both hands, peeping over his fingertips at the dark mage. "How much power do you have Henry? It's almost impossible for a seasoned mage to break a silencing ward of that level."

"He-eey, it's fine. It's not like I'm going to go around casting curses that will make your brain leak from your ears." He pauses dramatically and then adds a very lighthearted, "Yet!"

Ricken turns his wide-eyed pleading gaze at me for help.

"Ricken, he's joking."

"Ha, ha. Haaaaa," he wheezes rather than laughs as he sinks to the floor.

Ricken's mental breakdown is thankfully brought to an end as the door behind us clicks open. Ricken stumbles over his robes as he picks himself off his feet. "Libra! Thank Naga..."

"I apologize for the interruption. The others are-" The priest turns from shutting the door with a distracting swish of his hair that could hypnotize anyone. He halts his greeting at the sight of me, quickly readjusting to welcome my presence. "Good evening Robin. What a pleasant surprise."

"Hey Libra. Hope you don't mind me having a chat with Henry," I wave.

"On the contrary. I think it's wonderful he is getting some interaction apart from Panne. I don't find it healthy to keep him locked up alone here all day. Even if the accommodations are habitable," Libra answers with a disapproving appraisal of the room.

He removes the basket on his arm and moves to place it on what was once a functioning end table. He halts, his mouth parting in surprise at the broken remains. I quickly edge in closer behind him and cough as guiltily as I can. Libra looks over his shoulder at me and I raise my shoulders sheepishly.

"I sat on it. Sorry," I cringe, swallowing my pride to take the fall. Ricken stares aghast at me, silently praying in his head to Naga it works. "Want me to clean it up or, uh..."

"Is that so?" Libra hesitates, looking me up and down. "Then, I suppose you needn't worry. I will have a replacement arranged for and these pieces removed by the guards. May I suggest using a proper chair next time if you feel tired Robin?"

"Mm-hm," I sound in agreement, casting Henry a side-long glare. This is a one-time deal kid. Next time you decide to show off your skills, I am not taking the fall for you. His pleased expression seems to seal the deal between us.

Libra sits his basket down on a nearby dresser. He pushes back some loose hair over his shoulder, showing off a face lined with deep creases of weariness. "Ricken, the healers are running low on crone's wort and veinroots. I will unfortunately need to return to the supply room to retrieve more. May I ask you to supervise Henry a little longer until I get back. I would rather not leave him with the guards."

"S-sure," he meekly replies.

"Would you be staying as well, Robin?" Libra wonders with an inquisitive question my way.

Finding my opening, I make my intentions known. "Actually, I was waiting around for you."

"Oh?"

"I had something I wanted to discuss."

"I see. I would be happy to be of whatever service I can," he responds. Libra's position as a priest causes him to refrain from prying further. Hearing subject matters both public and private, he knows better than to ask in front of others the topic of my inquiries.

"If you would like to wait outside, I have some further requests to make of Ricken. Allow me to finish here and we may walk together and discuss what pleases you."

"Sure thing," I say. I step into the center of the room and aim for the door. I stop briefly to offer a farewell to the two boys.

"See you around Ricken. If you need to hide some more, my study is always open for sanctuary," I chuckle. He shares a few weak laughs with me and waves.

To Henry, I offer a hand. He stares at it, then slowly takes my open palm with his own. I shake it once, speaking as warm and welcoming as I can. "Stay awesome Henry. I can't wait to talk more with you."

"I don't know why you would, but thanks!" he admits, slightly surprised by my open declaration of friendship toward him.

I head off, catching a brief glimpse of Libra's pleased expression as pass. Like myself, Libra seems keen on getting Henry to have some genuine conversations with people. Some of the things that come out his mouth make me turn my ahead a second time.

I step into the hall and feel an immediate chill envelop me. I regret the loss of the warmth in the room.

I close the door behind me and turn, only to run smack into something. Someone actually, given the colorful language that explodes in my ears a second later.

I back away, cupping my nose. I hear utensils hit the ground, followed by more cursing. Peeking out of one eye, I see a hooded figure hastily picking up their dropped items from the floor. I kneel down beside them and help, depositing a spoon on the tray they balance in one hand.

"Sorry about that," I apologize.

They lift their head to answer, only to question me. "Bubbles?"

"Gaius?"

He picks up the rest of the silverware all in one hand and messily drops them on the tray. He stands back up, balancing the table settings between his arm and hip. The thief looks both ways down the hall before pulling his cloak in closer.

"Fancy seeing you here. What's a pretty gal like yourself hanging around these parts for?"

"I was looking for someone." I stare at the plate on his tray still lined with food and gravy. "What are you doing?"

He leans back on one heel, running a hand through his hair under the hood. "Ah, not much. Got stuck on feeding duty. Been bringing dinners to the inmates down here." He chuckles lamely, looking at the disinterested guard behind him. "Ironic, yeah?"

"Yeah."

And just like that, he goes quiet. I expect him to continue with his usual witty jabs but get nothing. Gaius clears his throat and shifts the tray back around to the other side.

"Sorry, Bubbles. I'd stick and chat but these gotta get back to the kitchen."

"If the cooks are anything like back at the castle, I can sympathize," I joke a bit in hopes of improving the mood. All I get is a shaky grin before he moves around me.

"You know it. Later Bubbles."

The cook here must be frightening to have Gaius running that scared.

"Strange, though," I whisper to myself. I can't help but notice the dishes still remaining on the floor from Henry's room. Gaius must not have seen them. It's not like he didn't have room on his tray. There was only settings for one inmate on it. I go to call Gaius back but he's already gone. Oh well.

I don't get the chance to chase after him with Libra's appearance a second later. The priest exits quietly. He greets me with a tired smile and beckons me to follow.

"Are you doing well Robin? I have heard from Frederick you have take on a great many responsibilities in this time while Prince Chrom rests."

"I cannot lie to a priest," I swoon dramatically. "I would rather die than fill out any more paperwork."

Libra laughs lightly, his perfectly formed face glowing merrily at my bluntly honest remark. "I am afraid one cannot hide from responsibilities such as that. Even the High Priest himself must suffer through such tasks from time to time."

"Alas, fate is cruel to those such as I," I mumble.

We exchange a few more pleasantries before arriving at the prison block's exit. As we enter through the doorway, the female guard turns into a rigid stalk upon seeing Libra. Her lips press tightly together and her gaze stays firmly ahead, the flush on her face betraying her thoughts. Libra stays true to his ever-sweet self and greets both. I can hear the other guard start snorting as we walk away, only to yelp as the other slaps his arm in protest.

The two of us take a familiar path outside back toward the upper district where the primary healing clinic is situated. Overhead, we finally get a clear night. The first slivers of the waxing moon shine brightly with the stars. The guards walk with more ease now that the new moon has passed.

"What is it you wish to speak of?" Libra finally asks with our small chat put aside.

"I had a question." I find myself quieting down, a sense of self-consciousness fighting its way up. "It's sort of a personal one."

Libra stops to look at me growing very serious at the first hints of my reluctance. "No need to hesitate Robin. I assure you, any words spoken between us are protected with my solemn vow of privacy. If you would like, I can find a room away from others to discuss this."

I wave both hands before me in protest. "Whoa, whoa, it's not like that. It's not a confession or anything."

He silently considers my words, then offers a palm forward for us to continue. The streets are largely empty with most habitation occurring in the lower levels or Ironhold keep itself. Our lonely footprints are the only sounds following our tiny voices.

Still, I find myself talking in a lowered tone. "So you handled most of my issues when I had been injured. Both in Regna Ferox and in the castle, correct?"

"I did, ordered by the Exalt no less."

"Right, so." I take a moment to gather my case together, praying internally for the best. "You are aware I have an interesting little predicament going on."

"As in?"

"I'm sort of suffering from a lingering case of amnesia."

"Ah, yes. I was made aware," Libra nods in recollection.

I lift the edge of my hood up, gently touching my forehead beneath my bangs. "It's gotten better since I first came. Everything was really foggy then. I could barely remember my name. Though much has come back, I'm still missing a very large part of it."

"And what is it about this you would ask of me?" Libra asks curiously. The lone twittering of a bird bounces around us against the stone walls. It's a strange noise to my ears. Aside from Henry's crows, animal life has disappeared from the western lands. Between Plegia and the roaming Risen, the wildlife has left in fear leaving the plains and rocky crags absent. Since arriving, this bird is the first to have made any sound.

Shaking off the the wonder, I continue. "I was wondering if you had detected anything out of the ordinary whenever you had healed me. You know, around this general area," I motion around my face. "Maybe some lingering affects of a curse or something?"

"You are implying that your ailment is of a man-made cause, not of natural symptoms following a physical confrontation?"

"Yes, that's it exactly!" I start to pace ahead of him, hands moving animatedly to my theory. "I don't have any motives or reasons why someone might want to, but I was curious all the same. I'm running out of ideas on how to fix this. It's not healing naturally as well as I'd like. Maybe never at all."

I stop and turn to face him, a hint of pleading in my voice. "I want to remember again, Libra. I miss my old life. I want to recall who I was and what I did."

I don't say what is really on my mind. I want to prove to myself my life is what I know it to be. Not a lie. I am the Robin I remember myself to be.

Libra considers me, studying my face and thoughts deeply. "Dark magic is potent, and there are spells that can cause damage in such a way to block certain mental capacities," he explains. "Most of these curses are only temporary. Most cannot last more than a few days to a week maximum. A spell to cause such long-term damage would require a great manner of power and skill to be put forth. One that would require a practiced crafter of dark magic."

We start to walk again, my passion yet to wane in my argument. "Maybe the power has been waning over time, which is why I can remember things better. But, it could still be there and I want it gone."

"It is a possibility," Libra ponders. "Though, it would create a strange story as to why someone so experienced would cast an equally powerful spell on yourself."

My lips press firmly together, unable to say anything on that subject. Though I know the reason why, I can't offer it up without spoiling everything.

Any fears of causing suspicion are displaced. Libra smiles warmly, exuding a relaxed aura. "However, you needn't worry of such things. I can confirm you should have no fears of any curses haunting you."

"How can you tell without even checking?" I accuse him for such a quick prognosis.

Libra fixes the basket sliding down his arm, watching me from the corner of his eye. "Robin, you have answered your own question. You have been placed under my care twice for healing purposes. Would I not have discovered something so dire and dealt with it at the time?"

A sense of hopelessness begins to arise causing me to press him further. "Did you check my head area either time for curses though? I know the damage was mostly around here so you might have missed-"

"Robin," he interrupts. It's a stern, yet gentle reproach that causes me to shy away. "I would not neglect to check over your whole being for complications, especially considering the first time you were cursed."

I cringe pulling my hood back over my eyes. "Oh yeah," I whisper dimly.

"Shit," I whine in defeat. I kick a loose pebble in front of me, watching it disappear into the dark corner of an alley. Out of the blue, my conscience rears up and gives me a severe case of shame for swearing so loudly in front of Libra. "Ah, sorry. Sorry! I didn't mean to say that."

Libra seems more amused than offended by the act. "You speak as though I have not heard such language before."

"I just figured it's the principle of the situation," I shrug, tucking both hands under my arms for warmth. "I was told I shouldn't swear in front of priests. It's not polite, like swearing in front of your grandma."

There are only three instances where I will actively try to check my words: kids, clergy, and police officers.

"While there are many things Naga asks of us, I do not believe poor language choice in front of her clerics will incite her ire," he tries to comfort me.

I stare lamely at the ground, slightly pissed I hit another dead end. "Well, ya never know. Nothing like getting lit by righteous flames from Naga's own mouth to ruin your day."

I didn't realize I had started to trudge behind him until I catch up with Libra. He slows his pace to maintain one with me. Even in the dark, he can tell something isn't right.

"You are upset."

"Honestly, I am." I tip my head back, staring up at the vast sky. "I was sort of hoping I was on to something with this curse thing. It's bothering me that there are still so many things I can't grasp a hold of."

Libra hums in thought, offering what advice he can think of to cheer me up. "I have found amnesia to occur due to various circumstances. Some are self-inflicted due to accidents, often found in mages whose magic backlashes and injures their self."

I exhale sharply, expressing doubt over the magic excuse happening. I didn't even know I could summon magic until I held a tome for the first time.

"I expected not," Libra agrees. "There is also the case where the victim suffers from a traumatic event. The mind will often force itself to ignore such memories in an attempt to protect itself. I, however, believe your circumstances are a side-effect of the most common variety. Princess Lissa informed me you were found slightly injured when first discovered on the Ylissean plains. A concussion to be exact. It is not unheard of for head trauma to cause long-sustaining injuries, amnesia being a symptom. I would be inclined to believe whatever incident caused you to end up in such a state would be the answer."

I continue to stare upward, unable to agree or disagree. Deep in my heart, I'm unable to accept it. It's too convenient an excuse.

"Your quiet suggests you do not believe that to be the reason," he concludes for me.

I rub the front of my neck, closing my eyes in distress. "I really don't know. I can't remember what happened to get me there, so it very well could be what you said. It's just, the injury was so light. It's hard to believe that could have caused so much damage."

I drop my head to watch one foot pass over the other. "Maybe you're right. It could just pass with time and I'm getting worked up over nothing."

Yeah right. One can dream.

"There's a lot I'm questioning at the moment. I was hoping for an answer to something," I find myself saying without meaning to. Even letting some of this out in the vaguest fashion helps.

"Have you spoken to the others about these worries?" Libra asks.

I give a little shrug. I really can't. For what I have brought up, it hasn't done me any good besides cause more concern.

My dreary response leads Libra to ponder more. We finally pass from the lower ward to the upper. It shouldn't be long until we arrive at the healers' station of operations. The two of us reach the end of the street and start on another. Here, Libra speaks again.

"I am truly sorry to see this is afflicting you in such a way. It appears to be causing you much stress. So wish to ask, has anyone mentioned their own thoughts on the matter regarding your condition?"

"Sort of. Why?"

He continues to fuss with his basket even as he advises me. "Perhaps you should try asking about once again. I feel like you may receive the help you need if you try a bit harder. Two heads together are much stronger than one. After all, if you do not know yourself well enough, why not the ones closest to you?"

"I sort of doubt that," I mumble like a depressed child.

"Yet, I feel as though it would do you some good to try."

I gaze questioningly at him but he carries a neutral, carefree expression. Why did the suggestion seem heavier than he implied it to be?

"Here we are! We finally arrived," the priest exclaims happily. True enough, our destination looms just ahead. The building is the only one lit on the street. Every window glows yellow from behind gauzy curtains proving the work of countless clerics yet to rest in their eternal duties to the army.

"I'm afraid I will need to part ways with you here, Robin. These herbs are still needed for a procedure."

"Are you super sure there's no chance of foul play regarding magic? Even a little bit?" I plead a final, desperate time.

He response his once again negative. "I am sorry Robin, but I found nothing mystical clinging to your mind to cause such a reaction. If such a curse or spell was used, it had been done long before with nothing but its aftereffects marking you now."

He stops just short of the entrance. Though Libra speaks kindly, I feel as though he is holding back. "Think on what I said, Robin. I am not able to offer a clear answer on this, nor can I offer any more advice. You may feel hopeless, but there is truth to be found in another's eyes."

"Maybe?" I grumble.

Libra carries on, turning back to give a sympathetic wave before disappearing shortly after. I'm left in the street feeling more lost than ever. Talk with the others, huh? Not exactly an option. Still, there has to be some weight to his words. He seemed very convinced I could discover an answer through talking some more.

I head back to the castle, craving the warmth of a fire. Summer is on the decline, yet this is typically among the warmest days of the year. Among the mountains, everything feels cooler. The constant drafts the mountains seem to exhale every so often don't help. I pick up my speed, jogging back to the main keep with thoughts swirling.

Unknowingly, I've carried myself through the doors of the keep and up the hall only to halt at the stairway leading up to Chrom's quarters. Secluded from everyone else, there's at least a dozen guards circling his floor day and night for extra protection. No expenses lost in ensuring the heir to the realm's full recovery. Very few have the right to see him unaccompanied. Aside from personal kin, Lissa has made it clear any Shepherd was allowed to visit if desired. That goes to show how deep the trust is among us. We're a family regardless of blood or origins.

I'm probably the only one who hasn't visited yet. Sumia and Cordelia tried to get to me go once, as did Owain. I just...couldn't do it. After having witnessed that Risen try to tear him apart, I froze up at the thought of seeing the aftermath. Even with reports of Chrom's recovery coming in, I'm just terrified of what I might see.

His healers had finished working on him early this morning and advised us that the induced sleep he's been under should wear off at some point today. Time went by and he continued to sleep. It's by no means a bad sign, they advised. While his body might be healed of the trauma, it's still recovering from the exhaustion of the magical endurance his body has been put through to speed the healing. He'd wake up when his body felt ready.

I press a hand to the wall, one foot stepping up on the first stair. Is it pathetic that I couldn't get myself to visit him then? Is it too late to do so, even now? With everything that happened yesterday, the desire to see him okay steadily grew stronger. I feel like it would ease my sense of mind to know he's okay with my own two eyes. That he's not dead like so many cycles before. Maybe that's why I paused here. I should get over this silly fear and just go.

Just go! Move Robin!

I force my foot to take another step and begin the eternal climb. The bad thing about making one's living residence on a mountain crag is that everything tends to go up. It's a hike to get from one end of a floor to another with everything done on an incline. What's worse, whoever built Ironhold had a thing for towers. There are so many of these damn towers!

Grinding my teeth together in annoyance, I stomp up every part of that stairwell until I finally reach the top. Though I haven't been here, I know the way from directions given. There's plenty of activity about. Patrols are forever at work and some poor cleric is always on duty to help in case something happens. I pass through unhindered, my face and position already known. I find my heart speeding up the closer I am to his room. I'm nervous, like right before giving a memorized speech in front of a large audience. I know everything will probably be all right, but I still have this fear of something going drastically wrong.

This is so lame. It's enough to cause me to stall before his door, hand glued to the handle but unable to actually open it. I force myself to open it only after I swallow, shrinking under the judgmental stare of a guard nearby. I must look so stupid standing there.

Here goes nothing.

I go in with two eyes pressed shut. The door clicks behind me to a close and I end up sagging against it. It takes me two breaths to open one lid, then the other.

It's...not so bad.

The room itself is nice. Whoever decorated it made sure to cover as much of the unappealing stone as they could to give the quarters a homey feel. A rich, warm pallet overwhelms the dull gray beneath. Plush chairs and soft carpets only add to the lavish appeal of a noble's room. The bright fire in the hearth on the far end of the room pulls the whole appeal together with the comforting crack of wood.

I brave a few steps forward, little by little. His caretakers have gone out of their way to make this place cozy for a recovering patient. There's medicinal supplies located on every surface and countless blankets and pillows.

I pause at the nightstand beside the bed. Among the other get-well charms and good luck nick-knacks, my little bouquet sits lost in the back. I had Frederick place it in the room during his last visit. Sitting in a plain pewter jar, the origami flowers I had folded together look cheap against the ornately carved furniture. None of the flowers that grew in the mountains of Themis really spoke to me. According to Sumia, a lot of them had more negative symbolism than good. Instead, I just folded a few of my own from some loose paper and tied them together. They're nothing spectacular, just a few designs I picked up for decorating a wedding cake once. Seeing it sitting there amid the more decadent gifts, it seems kind of plain.

I flick one of the creamy colored blossoms with my finger and watch it bob back and forth. It's the thought that counts, I guess.

Turning from my gift, I focus on the real reason I'm here. My breath catches in the moment, the memory of that night still fresh in my mind. Even my heart stalls a beat in the anticipation of seeing my friend for the first time since Chrom was pulled bleeding and torn from my arms.

A desperate sigh of relief escapes.

My right arm grasps tight to the bed post as I sink against it. I cover my mouth, hiding back a combined laugh and smile. He's okay. No visible disfigurements or missing appendages. Even his complexion is healthy and strong. The only sign betraying his prior state is the bandages peeking out from under the collar of his shirt. If some terrible bedhead is his only worry at the moment, I'll take it.

The clerics have cocooned Chrom in a shell of wool blankets and duck feather pillows. He looks totally at peace, the opposite from reports of his fevered nightmares in the beginning.

I offer up silent thanks to those who worked on him. Their dedication is no joke. They didn't waste a single ounce of effort in restoring him to health. Nothing could make me more grateful.

I perch myself up on the edge of the bed. Nestled in the center, he seems so far away on the massive mattress. A part of me is wishing he would wake up this second, wanting to hear his voice again. The other half prefers it this way, unsure what I would even say if he did. There's so many things to talk about. Thoughts of anger, happiness, thankfulness, disbelief...Nothing seems right.

Nothing except a simple greeting.

I raise a hand from my lap, fingers only partly uncurled in a partial wave. My voice is but a faint whisper. "Hey there."

I wait for some reason, as if expecting an answer. Of course I don't get one.

"I heard you were supposed to be waking up anytime now," I continue, watching his closed lids for some sign of movement to my voice. I crack a weak smile, the blanket beneath twisting up into a ball under my other hand. "Do you want to speed it up a bit? Your siblings have been worried sick about you. So has everyone else."

I close my eyes feeling a hint of shame at my own suppressed longing.

"So have I."

The blankets are pulled up to his chest hiding almost all of his injured areas. It was dark, but I can still remember the glossy reflection of blood in the torchlight staining the torn shreds in his armor and clothing. What a difference to be sitting here seeing him like this. Magic truly is a remarkable thing.

I lean back against the headboard, turning to watch the fire burn. I open both palms and let a tiny flame build up between them. A miniature duplicate of its raging twin. If I can do something like this, would another type of magic be just as possible? Dark magic. Light magic. As opposite to each other as they are to the elemental schools. Perhaps learning them is worth a shot? Imagine if I could heal. I might actually have been able to do something with Chrom's injuries.

Then again, we wouldn't even be here in the first place if it weren't for his need to play hero.

I close my eyes, extinguishing the magic with a wisp of smoke as both hands close together. "You really are something, you know that Chrom? I don't know if I should be furious or grateful."

It's easy to visualize Chrom and his place in the world. If it's not the adoring masses or swooning courtiers, it's the very people who he calls friends that rely on him. He's an important fixture, a symbol in a world that still battles ancient monsters and humanity's worst faults. On a smaller scale, he's a devoted brother, loyal friend, and caring captain.

He's also going to be father.

And then there's me. Simple, plain Robin. A commoner with no lineage or bloodline worth mentioning.

What right does he have to do something so reckless? Does he even know how much of a loss Ylisse would take losing one of its last heirs to the exalted line?

Gregor's words whisper about behind all my thoughts, driving in points Lucina made even clearer in our conversation. My head falls back as I bite the corner of my lip, a groan of protest emptying out my feelings. I peer out one eye at Chrom's sleeping face and frown.

"I'm not worth it."

A wave of melancholy crashes into the sea of inner turmoil raging deep inside of me. It's a constant whirlpool of thoughts and emotions mixing about nowadays. Selfish desires and common sense battle out on different grounds of subjects from returning home to what my own happiness is worth. The whole damn thing is just so tiring.

You read these stories and watch movies where heroes make tough decisions. In the comfort of your seat while stuffing your face with popcorn, tamales, or whatever, it's so easy to make up your mind. When you're not in their shoes, your own philosophies and beliefs make the call so easy. We can sit back and judge the hero all we want, the true emotional weight of the moment lost to us. How many times have I been guilty of pointing at the screen or throwing a book in disgust at a decision I didn't approve of? Everything is so cut and dry when picking sides in the safety of your home.

I'm no saint, nor am I so selfish as to damn the world. Morality is a bitch, and I grew up learning to adhere to it. I try to do what's best for the greater good. Be the bigger man. Turn the other cheek. Do unto others and all that crap.

But I WANT to be happy. I desire peace and a long life just like anyone else. I don't crave responsibility or acknowledgment. I don't want to be some chosen one. I've always been okay being left alone. I like anonymity.

So why am I here now? How can I make this right? Where does the line begin and end between my own selfish wants and sacrificing that for everyone else?

I've surprised myself this far in how much I'm actually willing to give for others. I mean, it's not like I was a terrible person to begin with. I put money in donation jars, helped cook for my elderly neighbor when her arthritis was bad, and held open doors for people behind me. I'm a decent human being, I like to think.

Now I'm fighting a massive war with a secret one behind that for a world I wasn't born to and a girl who wanted to kill me the first time we met. I'm starting to suffer an identity crisis and I don't even know what to call home anymore!

I better be getting some hella good karma for this.

"I don't get it," I mumble under my breath to no one in particular.

I was naïve to think about this like it was just another game. Being a hero is no easy thing. If you aren't born some holy Galahad ready to sacrifice his all, I don't know how you can expect to survive this without having to give up a part of yourself in the process.

Is losing my happiness really worth it?

What would make me happy anyway? I used to think it would be opening my own little bakery in some ocean side town. Maybe I'd get lucky and have a grand kid to pass the little business onto who would make it into the next mega-chain restaurant empire.

Instead I-

A gaping yawn distracts my internal blubbering. I can't help stretching a bit. The fire's heat is warming my toes and the mattress is far more comfy than my own. Heroic monologuing is a tiring business apparently. I shake my head to clear the foggy sleep seeping in. I give my cheek an extra slap for good measure.

I really shouldn't be sulking. There's a lot to plan in the next coming days. We're going to have our first official war summit as soon as both leaders arrive. I should start thinking up some ideas to throw out in suggestion. No doubt they'll be...

My head nods again and I give myself a good pinch to wake up. Where was I?

Plans! No doubt we'll be figuring out the first moves of our offense. Ylisse is all but secure. Every step hereafter is going to be an invasion on Plegian lands. Our points of entry are limited and all very dangerous. I'll have to go over...

...over the maps again with...

with...

…...

...

…...

…...

"...bin?"

"Gah!" A surprised gargle of confusion slips out of me as I flail awake in a panic. I don't know what woke me, but it's enough to send me toppling over the side of the bed. My elbow ignites in pain as it clips the end table beside me as I go down. I land face first on the carpet, a wooden bowl following after to land smack-dab on my head. I lie pathetically on the floor, moaning in pain. Slowly, I raise my face, wrinkling my throbbing nose. One arm grasps madly at the sheets as I pull my upper body off the floor. The bowl languishes on my head, rolling down to cover my eyesight. I struggle upward to my feet, pulling the bowl off and slamming on the table behind me.

I sniff and run a sleeve under my runny nose, grumbling curses the whole time. I quickly look about hoping I haven't broken anything in my fall. Table looks fine. Bedpost still intact. Chrom's awake and looking well. Bed draping still hung right. Sheets not too-

My eyes slowly trail back to the patient in the middle of the bed. Sitting partially up, messy-haired, and with a touch of sleep still clinging to his eyes, Chrom blinks once at me. Then, he smiles weakly.

"Morning."

I...uh...uh...

"Chrom?" I weakly call out. I press my eyes shut tight, opening them again to make sure I'm not suffering a post fall hallucination. No, he's still sitting there. Awake. Alive.

My vision clouds up, the most exhilarating sense of calm warming me up from head to toe. I fall against the mattress, both hands pressing to my mouth to hold back the short, desperate laughter I choke on. I can't find words, my emotion too overwhelming to speak.

"I...guess I...I missed the end of the battle?" His struggles to voice, trying to form words after sleeping for so long.

I nod soundlessly, still frozen in shock.

Chrom falls back against the pillows. He takes a minute to breathe, then regathers his strength. He props himself up on one elbow, pushing the sheets further away from him. He continues to struggle to rise, using the support of the headboard to drag himself slowly up. I react quickly, scooting in further to help hold him as he adjusts to a comfortable sitting position. He moves sluggishly, rolling his right shoulder to stretch out a persisting kink in the muscle.

"I'm going to...hope we...we won?" Chrom asks through the groggy weight of his voice. He tests the flexibility of his right arm, then the other. It proves a mistake as the injured length of his body stretches in a way it wasn't ready for. He sucks in the air between his teeth and bites back a silent groan of pain. I have half a mind to try to help, but stop myself. A conflicting node of worry interrupts me with the idea that it might come across as too...I don't know. Too caring? Too...Great! Now I'm going to worry everything I do is giving a wrong impression. Don't think like that Robin. Just do as you do! Be natural! Don't make this weird.

Thanks Lucina. Now I'm going to second guess everything I do.

"I would think we won," I answer instead, sitting on two tightly clenched hands as I fight internally to control this sudden paranoia. "Would you be in such a comfy bed otherwise?"

Thankfully, Chrom seems unaware of my sudden restraint. He massages the juncture between his neck and shoulder, taking in the environment with one half-opened eye.

"Where...?"

"This is the warden's residence in Ironhold. Maribelle had you placed here for extra safety purposes after battle," I answer way too quickly. I breathe deeply and push the fuss out of my mind to regain control of myself. "You've been out for a good amount of time while the healers have been working on your wounds."

"Feels like it," he winces. True to his nature, one of the first things that pops in his mind is everyone else's welfare. "Is everyone else...?"

"They're alive Chrom. All the Shepherds are doing well," I reassure him. His question makes me remember I'm not the only one who is eager to see him awake. I smack my forehead and slip off the side of the bed. "I can't believe I'm just sitting here! Let me tell the guard you're awake. Everyone else should know!"

I rush off before he can say anything, nearly pulling the door off its hinges. My sudden appearance causes the nearby guard to leap to her feet from her slouched position. The news of Chrom's change in condition causes her to stutter happily and nearly trip up in her salute. She doesn't waste a second and scampers off to find Frederick and anyone else she can spread the word to. Satisfied, I push the door closed again and return to the bedside. Chrom appears more coherent, his eyes much more alert and his movements stronger.

"Do you feel alright? Everything still work?" I say.

"A little stiff," he states while flexing out an ankle under the sheets. "What of yourself? Are you alright?"

"Me? You're joking." The blatant concern written all over his face is a product of his own memories playing back as reality catches up with him.

He places a hand on his bicep, running a thumb over a seam in the bindings around it. "Robin, you-"

I interrupt him quickly. The only one who should be concerned here is me! "I'm not the one sitting in a bed waking up from days of intense surgery. Does that tell you something?"

I settle into my chair, crossing a leg over the other. A sting of ire manages to leak through. "But if you want to ask about my anxiety issues, I can confirm it's been rough."

He looks me over to satisfy his own curiosity. Seeming no worse for wear, he relaxes. Chrom seems content his little sacrifice left me wholly unharmed. "Good."

The gesture causes my agitation to rise. I lean forward, frowning slightly. "Gods, you are an idiot."

He doesn't back down from my accusing glare, challenging me confidently with belief in his own decision. Chrom knows exactly what I'm talking about and is sticking behind his actions.

"Why would you do that?" I ask in frustration.

Chrom watches me thoughtfully, turning his head just slightly in a way to say, 'You know why.' I do, and it makes it all the worse. I hang my head, shaking it in defeat. I could lecture him in a thousand ways about how stupid a decision it was. The risks of putting himself for me, or anyone, in such a fashion is so dangerous! But he just woke up and...and I settle on petty name calling to offer relief to my annoyance.

"You are the biggest moron to exist on this side of Ylisse. Maybe even the world."

The sheets rustle as Chrom adjusts his sitting position. He seems disappointed in my response, not expecting this type of negativity to his waking. That blasted sense of guilt pesters me again, causing me to rub my hand over my face in self-irritation.

"I-" Exasperation and fear blanket my words. "I thought you were dead for several minutes."

He looks down at his bandaged arm, running his good hand over the length of it. "Honestly, so did I."

That is the single, most painful thing I could have heard him utter. It makes me feel worse. I look at this stupid man and realize just how thankful I am he's still breathing. He could have been gone, just like that.

"Well, you're not. That's...that's good news," I huff in defeat. "We also won the battle and a vital point of strategic importance to the war."

Chrom doesn't answer, nodding only to silence. My chest feels heavy. I went about this all wrong. This isn't what I wanted to happen. He wakes up and the first thing I do is jump at him. I take it back. The only moron here is me. Trying to find some scrap of positivity, I attempt to poke a bit of humor at him. "You ruined everything, you know?"

He looks mildly surprised by the statement, even a bit hurt. Until he notices my faint smile. I lift my head, mocking him weakly. "My whole heroism thing is ruined. Now I have to go and save you all over again so the favor's in my court. I am determined to get that castle, understand?"

Memories of a similar conversation slowly replay before him, the point of my joke now making sense. Chrom tries to laugh, but it turns into a mild cough. I find myself rising to check on him, but he reassures me despite keeping a hand to his chest.

"Sorry," he gasps out.

I walk over to a nearby pitcher and drinking glass. Finding clean water inside, I pour him some and hand it over. He accepts it with a grateful murmur, taking little sips to soothe his throat.

"You better be," I finish, taking the glass back from him when finished. "Glory-stealer."

I planned that to be my final jab and end it all there, but find myself surprised by a quick rebuttal on his part.

"If you think about it, the favor's been mine all along."

I set the glass down, looking at him over my shoulder. For someone still attempting to find his strength, he somehow manages to force on a cheeky little smirk. "If you want to be that technical, I outnumber you in the amount of saves one has done for the other."

I cross my arms, feeling ready to play along with his little game. "Okay, since when?"

Not a breath is wasted as he lays out the evidence. According to him, just picking me up off the ground on the plains is one. Followed by another instance in Southtown, once at the Feroxi border wall, numerous times during the assassination attempt, another one during the siege...

"For gods' sakes, okay!" I interrupt loudly, realizing he had plenty more ammunition to throw. Way more than my own and all true. "Have you actually been keeping count?"

His coy demeanor grows somber, looking me deeply in the eyes. "Not really. I just have a good memory of all the times you decided to make silly sacrifices of your own."

Oh.

I get it. I turn back toward the pitcher trying to look busy with something.

"It's not a good feeling, is it?" he continues. "The waiting. The hope for good news."

My guilty silence says it all. He doesn't add anything more, his point made. Giving up with this mindless activity, I head back toward my seat. Tired of this nagging in my gut, I instead lean forward on the bed. Both hands press deeply into the bedding, almost causing me to fall over. Finding my balance, I speak as solemnly as I can.

"Then I'm sorry I put you through this. It sucks. It's the worst feeling ever and I'd never wish it on anyone, let alone twice or more."

He breathes out, looking to the side with a hint of his own remorse. I don't want him to feel like that though. He really doesn't deserve to feel so. And before he can admit to something so silly, I say something I should have long ago.

"How about this? I will make you a promise to not do anything so reckless ever again unless it's absolutely, positively necessary."

"Define your definition of necessary."

"Your life?" I answer swiftly. It causes his eyes to open slightly in surprise. Just to reassure his extra cautious side, I elaborate on the fine print. "Only in instances where there are no longer any ways I can feasibly plan or physically substitute an altenative to save you through conventional means."

I hold my hand out in a fashion to shake on it, hoping this will do to help make up for something. I mean every last word. Chrom looks between my hand and my face, specifically my eyes. For once, I really do study the way he looks at me. It's...different. I...

I see what Sully means. I had expected some doe-eyed gaze or sappy staring, but it's not. It's just like I'm...I'm looking at the real him. Open, unguarded. A sort of wonder that there's someone else standing right there with you that means so much. Or, is that just my own expression reflected back in his own eyes.

God...I sound just like Virion. Where is this flowery poetic drivel coming from?

Chrom takes my invitation. I can feel the warmth through the material of my glove heating up my own hand. He doesn't really shake it, instead keeping our interlocked hands suspended between us like a line from one person to the other.

"I suppose I can be content with that," he murmurs.

"Fine, good." Feeling a bit self-consciousness over how serious this is getting, I find myself laughing nervously. "I hope that settles your neediness."

"Am I expected to do the same sort of promise?" he responds in kind, equally embarrassed all of the sudden.

I find the strength in my voice and overcome my discomfort, returning to my earlier mockery. "Hells no. I want a castle for my reward, not a wimpy oath!"

He blinks twice in astonishment, then breaks into laughter. "Didn't I explain the problem before?"

"Build one, your savior demands it," I say, poking him lightly in the middle of his chest with my unoccupied hand.

"My savior will have to forgive me as that is still an unattainable goal." There's a flash of something in his blue eyes I've never seen before. He's managed to build up a little fire since waking, and it comes out almost suggestively. Almost. "I thought you had suggested something else aside from gold and castles?"

"Tch, are you kidding?" I reach over and push a pillow right in his face. "Like I want a kiss now when you're suffering from the ultimate morning breath."

"Beg pardon?" Chrom's typical abashed horror leaks out again. He pulls the pillow away, setting it aside. "I had not meant that! Something to that effect requires proper courtship, I think."

I little warning light goes off in my head. Something tells me we're steering out of friendly teasing and going somewhere I'm not prepared for. This little hiccup throws me off and I find myself losing momentum.

"What did you mean then?"

Why, oh why, would I ask that and open up the conversation to a place I should not be going!

Chrom takes a moment to think, hesitant to continue. He turns a look to our clasped hands. Carefully, he loosens his grip. For some odd reason or another, I find myself stuck watching. My own moves effortlessly with Chrom's until he holds it gently over his own, imitating a usual courtly gesture I see often shared between two acquainted parties.

Uh oh.

"A far simpler gesture, but one nonetheless," Chrom suggests no where near as confident as he'd like to.

Oh no.

"Robin, you're turning an awful shade of red."

My left hand slaps to my cheek. I'm burning up like some blushing teenager. Speak, woman! Say something! I open my mouth and the lamest, dorkiest 'Um' to ever be um-ed on the face of any planet slips out.

Though I didn't give a wholehearted yes, I haven't made a clear rejection of the proposal either. Whether it's the medication in his system or the strange sense in the air, Chrom makes a rather bold move for both of us.

It lasts no more than, what five seconds? I've seen it happen plenty of times from a distance. It's a simple, innocent gesture, typically a kiss to the top of one's hand in greeting or admiration. So why am I getting so worked up over it?

Chrom pulls my hand a bit closer and stops to wait for my reaction, an offering for me to pull back if I want to. I make no move to resist. I don't think I could given how infuriatingly frozen I am at the moment. He can't prevent a partial smile from forming, slightly amused at the fact that I've lost all my bravado.

The act itself is quite quick. Chrom raises the top of my hand to meet the quick brush of his lips against it. I suddenly regret wearing my gloves, only to remember the troublesome mark underneath it. That makes my head spin even more, the act becoming significantly more private somehow.

The sensation causes a very familiar feeling to build up in my chest. It squeezes tight, holding on to my lungs as it travels down to the pit of my stomach. It might have been nothing more than a chaste peck to my hand, but the gesture packs the same punch as a full blown kiss. Worse yet, our eyes never break contact between the rise and fall of the gesture.

This isn't going to cause potential complications. Noooo, not at all. God, did it feel nice though.

Lucina is going to kill me. Or not. Which is worse?

Our still joined hands comes to rest between us on the bed, my arm the dead weight holding us down. Chrom seems a bit cautious of my owl-like stare, attempting a light quip to earn a reaction.

"There, a proper reward for the celebrated heroine. Perhaps my tactician can stop pestering me now and consider our debts equal?"

I somehow manage to unhinge my jaw, my voice cracking to a high whine. "That works."

A thunderous crash explodes through the air like a gunshot. I leap backward in reaction, tangling up in the legs of my chair so I end up stumbling up against the end table again. I catch a falling vase, barely holding it up with one hand.

The source of the sound is the door flying open, the lingering echo of the bang drowned by footsteps and a high-pitched keen.

A large, fluffy yellow monster dives onto the bed and engulfs Chrom in layers of lace and cloth.

Lissa incoherent sobbing keeps her ignorant to mild groan of pain her brother makes under her as she lies glued on top of him. I can't make out a thing she says between the gasping hiccups she makes. In the hall, Lucina's eager questions are answered by Frederick's own. Other footsteps follow behind them as more voices join in.

I slowly back away toward the corner of the room to let the others have space. I've had my time. Besides, I need to clear my head.

Lucina enters the room on an eager step dragging Owain the whole way by the sleeve. Frederick's gruff demands for Lissa to stop manhandling her brother cause him to skirt around the duo in an attempt to pry her off. A few of the other Shepherds have already been alerted. Maribelle shuffles in with a dressing gown over her casual attire. She's nearly knocked over by Vaike who runs in hollering something about sharing battle scars. Kellam seems to blend right out of the seams in the walls, bending down to catch a twirling Maribelle. It seems word has gone so far as to reach the courtyard because our two pegasus knights have joined as well. Sumia steps to the center of the room, eyes glistening with grateful tears to see Chrom alive. She turns and holds out a hand for Cordelia, who stands frozen at the threshold of the room. The other pegasus knight meekly walks in, a similar look of gratitude shining just as brightly. The two clasp hands and hang back from the crowd to patiently wait a turn. Knowing how Cordelia feels, and how her own happiness is most likely similar to my own, causes my heart to hurt. I look away, rubbing my thumb over the top of my right hand.

Over the commotion, I manage to catch a glance of Lucina. She looks so happy. Surrounded by the Shepherds and her closest family, she must feel like she's in her own time again. Far from the monstrosities she's had to endure.

I...

I want to preserve that for her.

I see Cordelia standing there and I can picture Ginette working tirelessly in Ylisstol with her work. There's others too, who can complete that family for her.

A familiar pang smolders in my chest at the memory of only a few seconds ago. I hide my hand behind my back, trying to ground out the thoughts.

I can technically be one of those possibilities. But should I? Could I?

Now I really, really don't know what to do anymore.

---

A/N: ?lolwhatisthisendingeven?

Anyway, I hope you all had a wonderful holiday season and that you welcomed in the new year with a fresh set of goals and motivations. It's a new start. Stay inspired and make life your own! I plan to overcome as many writing flaws as I can!

istillsuckatromancetho...

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Review Responses:

Raiden312 – I immediately thought of that one scene in Lost when you mentioned that first sentence. I would laugh if some weird, dimensional waves of aggression force Leon to suddenly feel hostile out of the blue in a future chapter. Cross-dimensional interference?

That was very poetic and an immensely accurate way to describe Lucina's predicament. Life is about going through good times, hitting bad times, and coming around again. Every day passes and starts anew. With it comes a continual pattern of lessons, experiences, and losses. But humans always struggle forward and always find a way to work around the problem to a state of normalcy once more. Lucina believes herself and her friends to be the last hope her world has to survive. In a sense, she embodies the spirit of humanity continuing to press and survive despite it all. Reading that back, I've never been more proud of her for enduring as she did.

Don't feel embarrassed, that was an awesome insight into things. I feel like I learned something more about Lucina.

King Keith – Interesting recipe. I might have to try that. It's called a Grima? Cute.

Some of you still remember that detail about the hair? Interesting. Could pop up again. It is an interesting tidbit.

Robin's predicament is strange. In the game, all the children were welcomed immediately by their parents. Here, circumstances aren't as kind, nor as welcoming. I had to think real hard and get in role to figure out just how Robin would take Lucina's news. I felt more like the situation wouldn't entail a strong outburst as much as it would a weird, distorted one. A feeling of reality warping and not making sense anymore. I think it's acceptable to say something as outlandish as meeting your potential future daughter would lead one to feel confused, uncomfortable, and somewhat ill. Especially given how morbid the history is surrounding Lucina.

I did make some allusions to Lucina having aspects of her original mother, in good and bad ways. Both are highly intelligent and resourceful. On the down side, Lucina has developed some manipulation skills on par with the original Robin.

Man, that Heroic Spirit fact sheet is so cool. Thanks again for taking to the time write that up. I really want to design art of Robin as a Caster and Berserker class now. Maybe even an eventual Saber as well? I curse this life and my inability to draw decently.

UmiNight Angel Neko – The beautiful thing about this story is how much Robin changes as a character with each passing chapter. Even the person she is now will change in the future. Her thoughts and feelings adapt to all she goes through. So her hesitations now can change for better or worse in the future. Love can make people do crazy things. It's a real possibility she may choose to sacrifice her old life to stay given the bonds she has here now. If she ever does find a way home, it will be a tough call, but a choice will be made she sticks to.

Selias – Well, at least I can't play dumb to the fact anymore, not that it wasn't obvious on either character's part for a while. God, what have I done?

Anyway, good to here from you! Glad you enjoyed the rest of it.

BabyPuffin – Hi there! I'm happy to hear I gave you a good read on your vacation! I enjoy reading more in the winter months myself as you can curl up warm and comfy with a good story to ignore the nasty weather outside. Unless you're in a nice area with tropic breezes! Then I envy you, ha ha!

I stayed true to the plot of Awakening up until the siege so you are getting some new content with the old. Sort of the best of both worlds! It's a good game if you ever pick it up someday. I like the level design and overall strategy a bit more in Fates, but I like the characters and world mythos more in Awakening. Both are equally great in their own ways!

I think the siege of Ylisstol was my best writing arc, followed by this last one. I did reread it recently and there's just a nice air of suspense in it. That 'boss battle' in the end was the absolute most fun thing to write!

This is the second time someone mentioned that anime. I'm definitely going to look into it now. It sounds like something I would really enjoy!

Forgetful Dreamer – I think I know why certain authors entertain ship tease so much. It's really enjoyable to see everyone's reactions. Though, I may have used it too much and backed myself into a wall.

Oh there's plenty of mysteries left. Luckily, Robin is more determined than ever to solve things and change what she can. Revelations should start happening more often, now that she and Lucina are actively working together as a team to settle things once and for all.

Ah, my mystery project. We're working on getting the demo done so it should be out soon! I'm a writer and programmer for an upcoming Fire Emblem fan project called "Fire Emblem Awakening: Judgment." Basically, the game is a what-if scenario that makes your decision about sacrificing Emmeryn or not have real ramifications. Whether you choose to let her live or die, the war of Plegia plays out differently. I'll let you all try to guess which route I wrote first before spoiling it ;) If you want more information, you can find the project page on tumbler. fea -judgement. tumblr. com (minus the spaces)

*ends commercial rant*

- No problem. I do enjoy talking with everyone!

Oh good, I hope the chapter gave you some inspiration for your students! Maybe try getting them intrigued by picking a genre of short fiction that appeals to them. Have the class vote and see what they like to read most about. I know I am generally more interested in subjects I enjoy. Perhaps a fantasy or spooky story can get them invested?

I hate to be a tease, but you never know what little things I leave that may be important for a later time. I intentionally mention things that pop up later on as foreshadowing and hints. Maybe that's important, maybe it's just a funny little fact to make you laugh. That's for you to see and think about ;)

Guest – I aim to please, dear reviewer. :)

Xoroth – Indeed, I've gone out of my way to create a rather distinct difference between the many faces of Robin. Three to be precise. You have a more canon Robin, the genius tactician who was vastly powerful and instrumental to creating the successful campaigns that led Ylisse to victory time and time again. There is Grima, whom little is know other than having proven to be strongly driven toward a terrible goal, but wildly unpredictable in planning and beset by hedonistic tendencies. And lastly our POV, a more human an inexperienced Robin who is surviving on equal parts luck, inspiration, and ingenuity. The story often goes about referencing each in their own right and how that particular persona has come to interact with the world. They all have a story, and they are all connected in some way to the other two.

xXKaminari-TsubasaXx – Ha, thank you. I went into this planning to try and make this mystery as complex and though-provoking as I could. Enough to avoid more common tropes but not so wild that it wouldn't make sense. Given how closely bonded Robin and Chrom are as friends, comrades, or as lovers, something had to have been tremendously wrong to divide them that completely. One of life's worst tragedies is a parent losing a child. Combine with her already suffering psyche, it was a complex set of events that led to their downfall. It truly is sad. Robin has still done unforgivable things and should not be defended in her actions, but she is at least sympathetic in her own right.

Robin's destined for an interesting future regarding her and Chrom's relationship. I'm interested in seeing how effortlessly he can either succeed or fail in his own right given how much he can fluctuate between being sweet and a total failure.

3liManning – I have no life, that's how I get chapters done :'D

Welcome to the reason why I was hesitant to even add Chrom as an option for Robin to "support" with. Robin, like any of us, is pretty darn fond of home. Even if life is all good in Ylisse, what about all the things she's still homesick for. Big things like her friends and the serene quiet of a good day's work. Little things like peanut butter and watching her favorite television show. Worst of all, she has no closure. Robin can have a much happier ending if she returns home with a lover who isn't bound by responsibility or allegiance. If you find yourself in a relationship with the future leader of a country, you better believe you will be the one making life-style sacrifices, not him. But you know...I apparently developed a taste for angst :\

Did you really think I left that conversation without a follow-up planned in a later chapter? Behold. *promptly jumps into a dumpster right after*

I don't think I can even hint anything without giving away something on Marc, so I'll just sit here smiling mysteriously.

The Flare Blade – Just like you asked, I got you covered through PM. Thanks for the advice and insight. I'll see if I can figure something on the villains and cursing thing.

Your story gives me life. I gave up on Naruto fanfics long ago but I'm enjoying yours. Nostalgia everywhere. It's a beautiful thing. I read the first chapter and hope to review soon.

Kaoru-chibimaster – Yeah, big reveals can either be really awesome or really disappointing. It's one of the most nerve-wracking parts of making a plot's twists come full circle. No one seems offended yet so I must have done something right.

I've had very few moments in this story where I've had to stop writing multiple times to collect myself because it was just so hard. Lucina's testimonies to the past were one of them. I genuinely got upset a few times with her responses. This kid deserves so much better.

On the brighter side, yes things are so much stronger between them. I purposefully reread their first major interactions to take in how cold and removed Lucina was from Robin, to now where they openly shared a hug and cry in front of each other. I love good character development!

FicReader – Robin is a drinker. There's always alcohol nearby whether she mentions is or not. It was needed these past few chapters, definitely.

I, too, hate myself for Morgan's fate. I even bring him back and that's still a worse fate than before.

This story has become my hobby and my therapy. It's nice to be able to sit and write to forget about the scammers and rude customers I tend to deal with. The hospitality and retail world is very unforgiving on one's psyche sometimes. Trust me, I am tied to this story like glue.

White Nightmare – Glad to be here! I never really leave, I just suffer long bouts of unforgiving work schedules that make it hard to type faster. You could probably blame any of the weird transitions for that, sadly. I had to keep picking up the plot after dropping it for several days. Apologies. I'll try to iron it out later. I'm relieved the rest was okay though. The main message was what I wanted perfect.

Robin has a new attitude and is going to be very proactive now is trying to solve things. That includes her memories. She's very serious about Lucina's predicament now and has found a new drive to preserve all the kids' future. Blood or not, they have come together as a ragtag little family.

friedkimchilover – That was going to be one of the most heartbreaking chapters. I figured that much since way back in the beginning. I simultaneously loved the idea and dreaded it because I knew how much emotion was going to have to play out to make it realistic. Lucina's tired resignation and Robin's slow, shell-shocked horror had to be balanced perfectly.

It was two chapters ago, number forty-four. It happened when Chrom and Robin had reunited at the wall and were having a short conversation during their break. Lucina was raised as a princess with a conservative upbringing so their somewhat flirty banter was a bit risque for her. As you can see, Chrom did not forget and utilized it quite effectively to his advantage.

ArcherShirou – Yes, this is very clear for me to read. Thank you for taking the time to write it!

Lucina and Robin have come along way. Despite such strange circumstances around them, their shared trials have really brought them together. This is actually a good thing given how badly Lucina has needed someone to share this burden with. She should be able to find solace in Robin's support.

There's plenty of references to past games and worlds so don't be surprised if there are common themes and elements with other Fire Emblem heroes and villains :)

Robin already is a pretty seasoned shop owner thanks to her bakery. She might actually do good working for Anna's business if she tried. I love this mental image of Anna trying to force Robin into an apron with the family logo on it. Once you join, you never leave! Ha ha! Very interesting idea though.

KalNim – I know, finally! No more secrets between them! More importantly, Robin and Lucina are finally comfortable realizing how much they mean to each other. It truly is a wonderful thing!

Time limit on his...oh my god. That is funny XD I couldn't help laughing!

EmilykaFairy – I'm rather envious! I wish I had started young with learning different languages. I didn't begin until high school, but I still try to read books or fanfiction in French when I can. My Japanese, however, is going to take some more time before I can fluidly read anything, ha ha.

Ah, good old contractions. Okay, the difference is easy once you think about it.

"Its" is a possessive noun that's used when referencing an implied subject's ownership of something.

ex. 'Its clothes are there.', 'Its food is in the cabinet.', 'Its smell is bad.'

"It's" is a grammar example of a contraction. This is basically a combination of two words to form an abbreviation of both. It is a combination usually of a noun and verb or noun and negative. In this example, ' It's ' really is a combination of 'It is.'

'It's not mine.' and 'It is not mine.' are the same thing.

Other examples are 'Don't (Do not)', 'Y'all (You all)', 'Won't (Will Not)', 'Wouldn't (Would Not)'

I hope that makes sense :)

That's very interesting concerning the pet names. It's cultural habits like that which we unfortunately miss out on in school. Alright, I'll make sure to keep that in mind for future conversations! When I have a moment, I will go back and alter some of his conversations to reflect that. Thank you!

It wasn't so much of a matter of trust. Robin has a very poignant line she says to Lucina. "You really were just trying to protect me." Lucina covering everything up was a more about the girl trying to shield Robin from the fallout of the truth. Lucina knew if Robin found out the real story, it would make her life much more complicated. Lucina shares a very important statement where she admits something extraordinary happened between her and Robin. Lucina started to care about the other woman. She does trust Robin and realizes how much she wants Robin to also stay safe, and happy. Having Robin learn the truth about her past, about Chrom, and about what the time lines have gone through without the tactician's presence would complicate everything. Lucina was hoping Robin could return home guilt free after all the trials she had already faced. She truly wanted Robin to go home believing in this happy ending and a job well done. So Lucina did trust her, but she believed lying to Robin would preserve that happiness she wished upon the other woman who had done so much for her despite having no responsibility to do so. It wasn't the right thing, but it's what Lucina thought was best.

robotortoise – I don't think I've had such an emotionally challenging chapter since Lucina's first reveal in Regna Ferox. It brought back memories. Given how serious it was, I really didn't want to cut corners in addressing how deeply this conversation was going to affect both parties. It explains everything that has shaped Lucina to the woman she is now and how it will impact Robin's future development in later chapters.

While the humor may have been out of place for some, I felt like I needed it. It's hard to bear all that depressing subject matter and still end on sour note when that isn't the feel of the story. Also, Robin is just that awkward sometimes. How could she not bumble up?

No matter how many darn times I look over this script, even reading it aloud, I still miss these things. UGH. I've taken note and will fix these soon. Thank you for paying attention for my tired, stupid brain.

Holy Crpe – Comments like this still trip me up. Thank you. Consider this motivation pure fuel to drive me harder and grander in my writing. I appreciate every last word.

kenegi – Yes it is! Good eye. I'm a fan of Disney/Pixar and watch them often when writing. Sometimes little jokes slip in.

Diamond Gargoyle – I know! More and more stuff seems to happen that he has yet to be made aware of. Don't think it isn't bothering Robin, because it definitely is. The tricky thing here is that Chrom isn't as oblivious as he is in the main story. He's smart enough to notice there's something significant about Robin's mark and all these strange incidents around her. If he finds out something, just as you said, before Robin brings it up, just how badly is he going react? That could be a major damaging affect to their trust between each other.

Marc really is the the dark horse here, isn't she? I'm hoping to get more in-depth between the individual motivations of both twins soon. You'll find they have some very different views on the situation despite a common goal.

Guest – No problemo, my anonymous friend. It's an integral chapter for the story, so I aimed to make it as clear and smooth as possible.

Guest – Thanks so much! If you reach this chapter, I hope the story has proved entertaining for you!

That'sJustNonsense – Though I already reached you over PM, thanks again for reading. I do hope to hear more from you! Until then, enjoy!

hot poteito – Is there any other way to achieve an ultimate form of bonding?

These were two very hard chapters to write. Emotionally exhausting given what I did to some of my favorite characters. It was not fun, necessary as it was. Robin's little antics give a whole new meaning to resetting the game, am I right?

Robin's getting better and putting together two and two. With enough clues, it's going to be obvious who the twins are. Her reaction is going to be...well...ha ha. As for Lucina, oh boy. I think we got a taste of how protective and close she was with her brother. This is one truth she's probably better off not knowing. In time, we'll see soon enough. I think once Robin realizes who Marc is, she'll definitely have something to say, to both them and Lucina. Some interesting conversation are guaranteed ;)

Thank you! I aim to make the most of the new year's momentum!