Chapter Text
“For truly, there is no greater balm to the soul than a good friend.”
Ylissean Proverb
“We find ourselves in unusual circumstances,” Miriel announced. Her sharp voice echoed through the main hall of the ruined temple. Libra paused in his work at the end of the hall (where he was driving stakes into the ground to pitch his tent) and raised his head. The Shepherds moved quickly when Chrom gave the orders upon their return to Southtown, and by the time the sun began to set the temple’s abandoned dining hall had been transformed into a bustling camp. Miriel’s workstation (as she so dubbed it) was a makeshift archive of the materials foraged from the temple and the tomes she carted up to the ruins. Libra was surprised by the group’s swiftness, though he supposed he shouldn’t have been. They were all trained soldiers. Efficiency was beaten into their very bones. Libra tied off the last corner of the canvas tarp to one of the stakes and looked over his work. Perhaps putting a tent up was overly cautious, but considering the condition of the temple roof and the tendency for summer squalls in the region Libra would rather be over-prepared than drenched. They would all need to be at their best for what lay ahead. Speaking of what lay ahead… Libra glanced back up at Miriel, who was conversing with Chrom while they were shadowed by Frederick (who had a notepad) and… Kellam?
“A researcher, however, endures all challenges! I have no doubt we will learn much more in these coming days!” Miriel announced. The glint in her dark brown eyes suggested that Miriel would thrive in this environment. The knowledge that lay buried under the overgrown ivy and rubble more than made up for the lack of amenities they left behind in Southtown, or so it seemed.
“It’s a challenge, I’ll give you that,” Chrom agreed. “So, there are a number of religious texts Ricken discovered down this hall that may hold some key to our new friend’s predicament…” As Chrom led Miriel away from the main hall and towards the library, Libra rose to his feet. His knees screamed in protest at the sudden movement, and he swayed for a moment before he stiffly hobbled down the hall towards the inner sanctum, where Robin was resting.
Her condition was, upon further examination, worse than he feared. Lissa took charge of Robin’s care the moment she marched into her den, and relegated other Shepherds (mainly Vaike and Stahl, with Lon’qu shadowing her every move) to assist her in clearing out the rubble so Robin could walk through the temple unimpeded. Just until she recovered strength in her wings, Lissa sweetly assured the dragon, but Libra heard the steel of an experienced healer in her tone. Robin was in a bad way. Months of deprivation and exertion ate away at her body, and as for her mind…
It was a stroke of luck (or Naga’s will) that they found her when they did. As baffled as she was, Robin bore the invasion of her den with unconcealed excitement. She chatted amiably with Chrom, patiently bore Frederik’s interrogations, allowed Miriel to poke and prod, and… Libra entered the inner sanctum to observe the scene before him. Lissa, Princess of Ylisse, held Robin’s head in her lap and combed through her ragged mane of silver hair with a brush. Lon’qu stood behind her like a shadow and curtly nodded towards Libra when he caught him staring. Libra leaned against a crumbling pillar, the ache in his knees forgotten as he observed the tableau before him.
“-and of course, when Chrom raced into the inn we were all very, very concerned! But since he wasn’t hurt and Gregor and Libra seemed fine, we were a bit confused- oh, sorry, Robin!” Lissa said cheerfully. She worked through the tangled tendrils of Robin’s mane with her hands and the brush. Robin’s expression was (Libra dared to speculate) content. Her eyes were closed, and her lips had curled up into an approximation of a smile.
“You really have made a mess of your hair. And it’s so pretty, too! Did something happen?” Lissa asked as she dug her fingers into the silver mass of hair.
“Fell into the forest, that’s what happened,” Robin replied lazily. “Flying in a storm is a little tricky- Ow!” Her tail lashed back and forth, but Robin held her head perfectly still in Lissa’s lap.
“Sorry! Sorry. You have a branch in here,” Lissa explained, and she pulled her hand back to tug at the branch. “Wow, it’s really stuck! Just give me a- Lon’qu, I need scissors!”
“Really, woman? What do you think I am, a seamstress?” Lon’qu grumbled, but even as he complained he searched through the pack at his feet. Lissa returned her attention to Robin’s mane with renewed energy.
“By the state of things, it looks like you flew through the woods more than once!” Lissa exclaimed. “Lon’qu, the scissor- thank you!”
“Mmmm,” Robin answered as Lissa worked through the tangled mess with scissors, comb, and her hands.
“More, then,” Libra murmured, having begun to understand the intricate ways in which Robin danced around the truth.
“My hearing is excellent, Libra, and a priest ought to behave with more dignity. They shouldn’t eavesdrop on conversations they weren’t invited to participate in,” Robin sniffed. “How did you even manage to sneak in here? With all the people you’ve brought, the place hums like a city!”
Libra couldn’t contradict her in this matter. The abandoned ruins were full of life once the Shepherds made the place their base camp. The group was united in a singular purpose: to uncover the truth behind Robin’s strange tale and, if possible, defy her morbid fate. Chrom’s solemn optimism served as the fuel to the Shepherd’s fire, and once they settled in they planned to gather information and treat their patient. Robin’s contributions were small. Lissa wished to keep the others from tiring the dragon out (“She’s so weak already, who knows what the added stress will do to her in her fragile state!”), and Robin’s caution returned enough that she was rather tight-lipped about her past. But she was frank enough with him, Libra thought. Robin seemed to enjoy teasing him, at least, and that was a start. Libra crossed the room and approached the group. Robin opened her dark eyes and watched him.
“I finished with my own business, so I thought to speak with you again,” Libra replied. “How are you feeling?”
“Better, though it will take some time to adjust to being around so many people aga- ouch!” Robin exclaimed, and her gaze turned towards the princess. “You certainly have an arm on you, Princess Lissa. Do you moonlight as a pugilist?”
Lon’qu muffled a snort, and Lissa blinked. She leaned back to meet Robin’s eyes. She held a broken branch in one hand and the brush in the other.
“Uh, no?” She replied.
“You ought to consider it, seeing as you’re wrestling my hair into submission,” Robin replied. Lissa gasped, outrage crossing her face.
“Oooo, you’re terrible, Robin!” Lissa exclaimed before she fell upon Robin’s mane of tangled hair and set to working the tangles and twigs out of it. Robin laughed even as she winced, and Lissa was soon laughing along with her. Libra stood by Lon’qu as Lissa and Robin talked. With every snarl Lissa combed out of Robin’s mane, Robin seemed to relax by fractions.
“I must confess that I’m surprised by the crowd that set up shop here,” Robin remarked. “I suppose I stirred up quite the fuss these past few months. My plan worked.” She seemed particularly pleased by that, if the flick of the tip of her tail was any indication.
“That’s a matter of opinion,” Libra murmured. It was pure chance that brought Prince Chrom to this far-flung village instead of another group of soldiers. Libra was certain that the Pegasus Knights would not be nearly so amiable towards a Plegian threat on the border. It was good fortune that Prince Chrom was as soft-hearted as he was, considering his father’s tendencies towards brutality. It was luck that brought all of them to this place, this ruined temple of Naga, to try and forestall the total destruction of the world.
It was all luck or divine providence, and Libra wasn’t sure what to believe.
“It worked well enough for my needs,” Robin insisted. “It’s better than being cooped up in- hmm. It’s better than where I was.” She fell quiet, eyes half-lidded and her smile fading. What remained unsaid was a mystery, one that Libra was determined to unravel. It was a task that was left to him, one that Chrom requested Libra take on personally. Robin seemed more open to conversation with him (at the very least she was happy to relentlessly tease him), and Libra… well. Consoling a dragon was not so different from consoling a human, ignoring size and appearance, and Libra was well-accustomed to hearing grievances and easing burdens of the soul. It was no hardship, for Libra found that he liked Robin’s company. There were some subjects that were not so easily broached, however, and when her past loomed over them Robin quickly changed the direction of the conversation or stopped speaking altogether.
“I took the opportunity to write to a dear friend and colleague of mine about your condition this morning, Robin,” Lissa said, breaking the silence as she snipped another hopelessly tangled strand of hair out of Robin’s mane. “She’s a skilled healer, and though our expertise lies in treating human patients I believe her knowledge will be helpful towards your recovery.”
“Oh?” Robin asked. “And what sort of treatment would she recommend that differs from your own, Princess?”
“I’m not sure! I’ll let you know what she says once she writes back. But I thought I should warn you. I’ll have a whole lot of questions to ask you in the coming days once she reads my letter and responds,” Lissa said.
“‘Responds.’ Ha,” Lon’qu grumbled, and he rolled his eyes when Lissa sharply turned her head to gaze at him. “Only the truth, woman. You know her.”
“Oh, fine! When you’re right you’re right,” Lissa sighed. “There’s no easy way to prepare you for it, Robin, but my friend- she is an excellent healer, truly she is. One of the best, better than me even! But she can be… ah…” Lissa frowned, clearly searching for something diplomatic to say, but Libra’s eyes were fixed on Robin’s expression, which shifted from something like guarded concern to mischievous delight as Lissa struggled to describe her healer friend. Libra himself couldn’t help his own curiosity, for Lissa was usually an open book and always spoke her mind. To see her struggle was a bit worrisome, truth be told.
“My. Should we expect another guest in the coming days? Shall I put on the kettle for tea?” Robin teased, and Lissa jabbed Robin’s long, scaly neck with her index finger.
“Ha, very funny, Robin,” Lissa said, and she set her brush on the ground. “There, I fixed the worst of it. And as for my friend, well… we’ll see what happens. I mean, not even she could manage the trip from Ylisstol to Southtown in a week. I doubt my letter even left the village yet-”
“Where is my patient?!” A woman’s clear voice caroled through the room, startling a flock of nesting pigeons into flight. “Lissa, my dear, you said this was an urgent matter, now where is she?”
Lissa bolted upright, Robin’s head slipping off her lap in the process. Libra peered into the shadowy corridor that led into the inner sanctum but could not spy this new intruder. Robin shook her head and stared into the darkness, curiosity winning out over her irritation as she watched something move down the stairs. Her tail twitched like a cat’s when it watched its prey.
“L-Lady Maribelle!” Another woman cried out in a softer, sweeter voice. “You can’t barge into every room in the complex, Sir Stahl said it was structurally unsound-”
“Nonsense, it’s perfectly safe. The support pillars are strong,” The first woman- Lady Maribelle? - declared. “Frederik would never let Lissa into a room that might collapse. Now, Chrom said just down these stairs- ah! There we are!” One set of loud footfalls trotted down the stone steps, heels clicking with every step, while a set of softer, lighter steps followed cautiously behind. Libra felt Lon’qu tense at his side as if he was preparing for a skirmish, which was hardly reassuring. Libra watched the entrance, and a young woman emerged from the shadows.
She looked like she was lost, judging by her attire. The frilly, lacy outfit was highly impractical, never mind the lace parasol she held over her shoulder. Her golden hair was perfectly curled into delicate ringlets. She was like a porcelain doll, a princess who was out of place in the ruins and wilderness, even as she dropped a heavy leather satchel on the ground next to her. Yet there was something in her demeanor, in the careful consideration in her expression, that was intimidating as she examined Robin’s den with a critical eye. Libra couldn’t place why he was so discomfited until this newcomer’s eyes fell upon Robin and Lissa and her delicate face twisted up into an angry scowl. Dangerous, Libra thought as a familiar wariness gripped his heart. This woman was dangerous. A secondary figure cautiously emerged from the shadows. She moved with an easy grace as she followed the first woman, though she stepped back in sudden alarm when she caught sight of Robin lounging in the middle of the chamber. The first woman, however, was unperturbed and fixed her gaze on Lissa.
“Lissa! There you are!” She exclaimed, her high heels clicking loudly against the broken stone tiles as she crossed the room. “You might have explained that your patient was a lizard!” Her heels clicked sharply against the tiles as she walked. Her golden ringlets swayed with every step as she took in the room, her expression neutral in a way that set Libra on edge. He waited for the complaints, for the outrage, for the young woman to stomp her feet and demand that she be escorted back to Southtown, but she only lowered her parasol and snapped it shut with a click.
“I’m a dragon, thank you, and my name is Robin. You are Lissa’s healer friend, I presume?” Robin asked as she watched the young woman circle her with amusement on her face. Her eyes narrowed and she stretched her mouth into a wide smile, revealing her needle-sharp teeth. The woman didn’t even flinch. Instead, she jabbed the sharp wooden tip of her parasol into the dirt and unbuttoned the dainty pearl buttons on the cuffs of her blouse and began to roll the delicate fabric up and over her elbow.
“Indeed. Maribelle. A pleasure, of course. But Lissa, how can I possibly begin to treat Robin when I haven’t any of the supplies to do so? I was preparing to care for a Pegasus, considering the nonsense about injured wings- but I will work with what I have,” The woman, Maribelle, started unbuttoning and rolling up her other sleeve. “How far can you stretch your wings, Robin?”
“Hmmm. All the way, though it taxes me to do so,” Robin replied, a rare bit of plain-speaking from her. Perhaps their visitor’s arrival had startled her more than Libra thought. Or perhaps she did not wish to lie to this woman. Maribelle did not seem the type of woman one crossed lightly- Stahl’s frantic whisper of “she’s terrifying” echoed in Libra’s mind.
“Unfold them, if you would. Olivia, have you had any healing training?” Maribelle’s piercing gaze remained fixed on Robin, trained on her right wing and the socket, as if she could discern whatever troubled her by sight alone.
“A little, Lady Maribelle, but I-” The second woman stammered, but Maribelle interrupted her like a runaway horse, trampling over everyone and everything in her path.
“Good. You, Priest. Any healing skills? Bandaging, spells, anything of use?” She turned her eyes onto Libra, and despite the fact that he towered over her Libra felt rather small under Maribelle’s intense gaze.
“Yes,” he replied. Maribelle spared him a brief smile before she turned to Lissa and Lon’qu.
“That’s a blessing, we’ll need all the help we can get. Lon’qu, I’ll need your muscle, so stay put. But have a care, wings are fragile as can be. Thank the goddess I told Vaike to carry our luggage, he would be liable to make matters worse in an attempt to… help,” Maribelle muttered that remark as she walked past Libra towards Lissa. She distractedly gave Lissa a quick kiss on the cheek.
“It is lovely to see you again, dearest Lissa. The capital is dull without you, and the people-” Lady Maribelle shuddered. “I intercepted your letter at the inn. How fortunate that I now have important business to occupy my time and delay my return to Ylisstol for the summer.”
“And how pleased I am to serve as your important diversion- Lady Maribelle, was it?” Robin interrupted. Libra was about to comment on manners and eavesdropping on private conversations, but one look at Robin and it was apparent that his draconic friend had similar thoughts running through her mind. When he raised his brow she snorted and tossed her head, refusing to meet his eyes.
“This is hardly a similar circumstance, Libra. I’m not the one skulking in doorways spying on people,” she exclaimed. Her tail lashed back and forth, sending up clouds of dust.
“I do not skulk,” Libra insisted, though he sounded petulant even to his ears. He lingered in the door for a moment, true, but it was only good manners to provide some manner of privacy. Wasn’t it? If he happened to overhear important information while he waited, well, it never hurt to be informed about his circumstances. But Robin wasn’t wrong to call it spying. It was a bad habit, an unworthy habit, one that he indulged in far too often- but skulking?!
“How lovely to know that no matter how grievous your injuries may be, Robin, they haven’t dampened your spirits! Excellent,” Maribelle interrupted. “Olivia, you have good penmanship. Better than Lissa, at any rate. My journal is in my pack, will you write my notes for me?”
“O-of course! Ah, and it is g-good to see you again, Lon’qu. The Khans send their regards, though Khan Basilio was hoping you would be back by now…” Olivia exclaimed, her pale rosy hair trailing behind her like a flag as she scrambled to retrieve Lady Maribelle’s journal. Lon’qu eyed the woman warily and stepped away from the scene before him, keeping Libra as a buffer between him and Maribelle. But he answered Olivia’s question with an almost sheepish light in his eyes.
“Work isn’t finished yet,” Lon’qu muttered, folding his arms across his chest. “Too busy to write.”
“That is r-reasonable. When they had not heard back from you, the Khans sent me as support in your search for the dragon,” Olivia explained, her soft voice nearly drowned out by the sound of Maribelle walking around and examining Robin from a distance. “But when I arrived in Ylisstol it was too late to join you on your expedition. When Lady Maribelle made her intention to join your party in Southtown I accompanied her. I-if there is anything I can do…”
“Hmph,” Lon’qu huffed. “You’ve done enough already. Kept her alive, didn’t you?” He jutted his chin out at Maribelle before looking at the long sword strapped at Olivia’s side. The sturdy, practical steel and leather was a sharp contrast against her thin pale cotton trousers and blouse.
“Well, I suppose… I suppose I did,” Olivia replied. “Though, if you would write to the Khans it would ease Khan Basilio’s mind, which would make Khan Flavia happy.” She pulled a journal out of the leather satchel on the ground along with a small pencil.
“You know, I’ve never seen you write, Lon’qu,” Lissa said innocently. “Is Frederick keeping you too busy? You can always beg a day off if you need it, you know I don’t mind-”
“You assume too much, woman,” Lon’qu retorted. “I am content with the work I have.”
“Ugh, fine, see if I’m nice to you again,” Lissa grumbled. “Anyhow, Maribelle, I think what Robin needs most is food and rest, but I am concerned that atrophy will set in if we don’t encourage some light exercise- and her wings…”
“They feel fine. Mostly fine,” Robin amended, bowing her head when Libra tried to meet her gaze. He noted that she still kept her wings tightly folded to her body. Maribelle noted that as well, and after some prodding, she gingerly spread her wings out. First the left, then the right, and she let them rest on the ground as Maribelle walked around and examined the surprisingly fragile skin and bone.
“Nothing broken,” Maribelle announced, “though it seems it was not from a lack of trying. Some of these injuries are quite old. Years old, even. Olivia, please note that Robin has burn scars along her right flank. I have an ointment that should make the skin a little more supple there.” She tossed her golden ringlets over her shoulder and placed her hands on her hips as she glowered at the injured wing in front of her.
“Observant, aren’t we,” Robin hissed, lowering her neck and head until they were nearly flat on the ground. She remained still as Maribelle examined her right wing and joint.
“Priest- what was your name…” Maribelle seemed distracted as she finally knelt down and prodded at Robin’s wing joint, pressing her fingers into the muscle and sinew as she methodically worked. Robin turned to stone under her touch, but the tip of her tail lashed about in the air like a fish wriggling on a hook.
“Libra,” he offered.
“Brother Libra, yes, Lissa wrote that down in her letter. My apologies. Brother Libra, do you have any observations you wish to add? Anything that we haven’t mentioned already,” Maribelle pressed her fingertips into one tendon and Robin jolted underneath her, a spasm that made the earth shake for a brief moment.
“You could ask me, you know,” Robin said, her tone sour.
“You haven’t exactly been forthcoming,” Maribelle replied. “Can stretch my wings all the way, bah! I’m shocked you can lift them at all in your condition.”
Robin was quiet. She rested her head on the ground and glared ahead of her, her expression grim. Resolute. The summer heat was nearly stifling, even with the night settling in around them as the sun began to set. Robin endured Maribelle’s prodding and muttering, while Olivia scribbled her notes and instructions down. Lissa combed through her meager supplies as Lon’qu guarded her. And Libra… truth be told, Libra felt rather useless. He thought back on his first encounter with Robin and how fear and shock had caused his memories to run together in strange ways. He hadn’t noticed the extent of Robin’s injuries at first, and he was ashamed to admit it. It was only after the fear left him that Libra saw that the fearsome dragon before him was hurt and barely capable of rising to her feet.
“The fact that Robin is well enough to walk is a surprise,” Libra finally said. She hid her injuries well at first, but upon closer inspection it was remarkable she managed to fly around Southtown for as long as she had. The more that he saw the more curious Libra grew- one or two falls from a great height might have explained the scratches and bruises on her skin and scales, as well as the foliage tangled in her mane, but the prolonged evidence of dehydration and malnourishment were another matter entirely. And the burns… he hadn’t noticed those, either. What happened to Robin in Plegia, and why was she so determined to keep it a great secret?
It would take time to untangle the truth, but Libra could be patient. He sat by Robin’s head, if only to keep her company as Maribelle walked around to examine her left wing.
“We thought it best to give Robin food and water first, since she hasn’t any broken bones that need urgent care,” Lissa added. “That’s what I thought we should focus on: nutrition, hydration, things like that. One step at a time, you know how it is.”
“It isn’t as if I was on death’s door,” Robin grumbled, but she swiftly amended her statement once she caught sight of Libra. “A great deal happened before I arrived in your country. I’m… recovering. And we will surely get along better if we negotiate a treatment plan, don’t you think?” Her tone shifted at the question, containing a pleading note as she smiled down at the petite, delicate woman prodding at her wing. Libra expected Maribelle to step back, to look upon Robin’s broad smile and sharp teeth and retreat in sheer terror, but no. Maribelle continued at her work, steady and deliberate as she looked over Robin’s wing.
“I believe that you have misunderstood me, Robin,” Maribelle finally said. Her voice was firm and direct. Robin turned her head and bowed her long neck until she met Maribelle’s steely gaze.
“I am a healer, and I am a lady. And a lady never negotiates. You need a healer, and I am here to see that you are healed. Understand?” With that Maribelle tossed her head and turned her attention to Lissa. “Now, Dearest Lissa, what do you think about the use of peppermint tea? It may relax her muscles if combined with medicine and magic, but what do you think?”
“Considering how much mint we would need it didn’t seem feasible- can dragons even eat peppermint?” Lissa frowned. “We have to ease the tension in her muscles somehow, if Robin loses the strength in her wings…”
“Hmmm,” Maribelle made a dissatisfied clicking sound with her tongue before rising to her feet and stepping away. “Raise your wings up, Robin, as high as you can manage without straining yourself, and do be honest with me this time. Miriel- I need Miriel to find some anatomy books for me, I require illustrations!”
“I feel fine,” Robin complained, but she complied with Maribelle’s orders and lifted her wings up from the ground until they rested at a 45-degree angle from the earth. She stopped then, bared her teeth in a fearsome grimace, and lowered her wings slightly. She held them aloft, trembling slightly as Maribelle poked the underside of her left wing and frowning fiercely.
“Good work,” Libra murmured. “You can rest now.” Robin shot him a grateful look and dropped her wings, folding them back to her sides before she nestled back to lay in her spot in the earth once more. Maribelle, however, did not seem pleased.
“You’re in terrible condition. You’re lucky Brother Libra- “
“Libra, Lady Maribelle. Please.”
“Maribelle. We are all comrades in The Shepherds, and I will brook no argument on the matter. Back to the point at hand, it’s a good think Libra found you when you did before you hurt yourself further, but you have an arduous recovery ahead of you,” Maribelle frowned. “Lon’qu, hold Robin’s left wing- GENTLY, mind you! Libra, please keep Robin calm, for this will hurt.”
“What will hurt?” Robin asked, suspicion written clearly on her face.
“I thought your right wing was the most damaged of the two, considering the burn scars along your side and how you hold it, but that’s not the case at all, is it?” Maribelle frowned and knelt down. “You dislocated your left wing. I’m going to pop it back into place. That is to say that Lon’qu will do it, but I will make sure it is done properly. Olivia-”
“Yes?”
“Please make a note that I must research painkillers for dragons,” Maribelle announced. “Lon’qu, up, yes good, now right into the socket-“
Robin’s roar shook the temple walls and her tail thrashed wildly, but she soon stilled and hissed. Libra reached out, wanting to offer some comfort, his hand hovering in the air above her neck. But he stopped before he touched those sun-warmed scales. There was little he could do for Robin’s pain. Healing magic mended what was broken, but it could hardly be called a painless process. But he could be there, and so he was. Libra sat by Robin’s side and waited.
“The worst of it is over,” Libra murmured. Lon’qu released her wing. Lissa and Maribelle dove in to examine Robin’s wing socket and bone. Footsteps thundered down the stairs, and Libra raised his head. Chrom, wild-eyed, stared back at him. The setting sun behind him wreathed his head in a golden crown as he took in the sight before him: Lissa, Maribelle, and Lon’qu crowded around Robin’s wing with Olivia behind them, frantically scribbling notes into Maribelle’s journal as Libra sat by Robin’s head. The Shepherds entered the inner sanctum behind Chrom, weapons in hand and ready for battle. Robin, for her part, raised her head up to nod to the gathered crowd.
“Good evening,” she greeted them. “Not an ideal first meeting for many of us, is it?”
“What happened?” Frederick demanded.
“Dislocated wing. Lon’qu fixed it,” Libra offered. “We’re fine.” The tension eased by fractions as the others took stock of the scene before them, but some remained wary. Frederick planted himself firmly at Chrom’s side, eyeing Robin as if she was about to twist around and bite the prince. But she didn’t. She snorted and shut her eyes, tilting her head slightly towards Libra as if in a show of… deference? Surrender?
“We can quibble about the use of 'fine,' but no one died,” Robin added wearily. “By the shadow, that hurt!”
“It would. Dislocations… tend to hurt,” Chrom finally said. “Do we… should we have an extra guard. More muscle, if you need… umm…” He trailed off, unwilling to continue the thought, but the sentiment was easily understood.
Robin could have hurt any of them by accident. If she were to succumb to Grima’s influence, the damage she could do before being subdued was frightening to consider. Yes, Lon’qu and Libra were present and the ease with which Olivia kept a sword at her side was readily apparent, but Maribelle and Lissa were unarmed and would have been the first to fall had- if anything happened. But nothing happened, Libra reminded himself. Robin remained in control of herself. No one was harmed. They were all simply… on edge. Tired. It wasn’t every day that a dragon declared that she was the avatar of Grima and that his spirit dwelled within her. It would take time and grace to find balance among them. Distrust was to be expected even as they worked towards their common goal.
“Can you even spare an extra guard? You’re all busy, as far as I can tell,” Robin remarked as she looked over The Shepherds. “I’m not going anywhere, but once you’re settled into your camp you can discuss… security matters.”
Security matters, Libra thought sourly. As if the matter of arranging for her potential death was nothing more than a minor disturbance to plan for. As if losing her own sense of self to a deity was so mundane as to be an off-hand remark. As if Robin herself didn’t matter. But there was a practical element that they must consider, the cold, cutthroat part of Libra thought. An armed guard would be useful. Necessary, even. And it seemed other members of The Shepherds tended to think practically as well, soldiers through and through.
“Not tryin’ to be cruel here, uh, Robin, but if you go all Grima on us we need a battle plan,” Vaike piped up from the back of the small crowd. “Ain’t saying I don’t think we can fix this, but I ain’t gonna say that flying by the seat of our pants is a good idea, either.”
“A rotating guard should do the trick,” Frederick immediately offered. “At least three soldiers who switch shifts every six hours. It may stretch our meagre resources, but it can be done-”
“Three is right out,” Sully interrupted. “We’ve stretched ourselves thin as is, Frederick, we’ll fall apart at the seams if we keep up at the pace we’ve been going at, you know.”
It fell into chaos at that point, a cacophony of voices shouting suggestions and arguing in a raucous chorus. The solutions ranged from the practical (“Maybe just one knight and a healer, so no one is alone?”) to the outrageous (“I could enchant some of these statues! They would make adequate guards!”), but no one was making headway. No one was listening. If he was at the monastery, if these were not his peers but the children in his care, Libra would sort out the mess. One suggestion at a time until everyone has said their piece, and then they would narrow down their options. But he was a newcomer, an outsider in much the same way Robin was. He glanced over at Robin, who sat still and quiet beside him, and he tried to discern the expression on her face. Shame, perhaps? Embarrassment?
“That is quite enough!” Maribelle ordered, her voice ringing through the chamber like a bell, and the arguing ceased. “Robin is a patient, not a prisoner! She needs a healer, not a- a sword at her neck! Tell me, who could possibly recover their strength under such conditions?! No one, that’s who!”
“It’s fine. I’ll be fine,” Robin murmured. “Arrange whatever you believe is necessary.” But it wasn’t ‘fine,’ was it? Libra saw the tension in her neck and coiled tail, in the way she pressed her wings ever closer to her sides. Robin was anxious. Distressed, even.
“I will stay with Robin,” Libra offered. “I already promised to keep watch over her condition. It is no trouble.”
“Are you sure? You only just set up your tent,” Stahl remarked. “And it’s growing dark.” Indeed, the sun was setting rapidly now, the light in the chamber turning the greenery to gold as it dropped closer to the horizon.
“It can be taken down. A promise is a promise,” Libra said, confident in his decision as he saw Robin relax. “I have enough training as a healer to administer care, and I will call for help if necessary.” No one pushed for clarification, which was understandable. Not everyone could be as blunt as Vaike, especially in front of Robin herself. Maribelle frowned, but bowed her head and grabbed her parasol from the mound of dirt she stuck it in.
“Sensible enough, I suppose. Thank you for being the voice of reason in this party, Libra,” Maribelle finally declared. “Now, I do believe I will unpack my belongings and write down a proper treatment plan. At least someone thought to add a waterproof covering to the tents, for the ceiling is more hole than plaster at this point. Lissa, I will set up my tent in the empty patch next to yours, it’s the furthest away from that concerning patch of mold growing on the… western wall in the main hall. I would ask that we set it on fire, but no doubt Miriel wishes to… study it. Come with me, Olivia, I’ll make sure you’ve been properly introduced to everyone, goddess knows Lon’qu’s hopeless at socializing- “
From there the Shepherds departed, retreating up the stairs to return to whatever tasks occupied them before Robin’s outburst. Lissa bid Robin a friendly farewell (“I’ll be back for dinner, of course!”), but other Shepherds eyed Robin warily before they left. Soon only four remained: Chrom, Fredrick, Libra, and Robin. Robin lifted her head and met Frederick’s gaze.
“Two guards,” Robin said softly. “You can place two guards outside of my chamber. Between them and Libra I trust that everyone will feel more… secure.”
“I will make arrangements,” Frederick replied. “It… thank you. For understanding.”
“We’ll set up a tent outside your room for privacy,” Chrom assured her. “Not that we thought you were- that anything would- “
“Don’t worry. If Grima takes control of my body there won’t be any doubt,” Robin promised. “But being under lock and key will reassure your companions of my compliance and their safety, so…” She shrugged her shoulders and winced, her joints clearly aching even as she settled back into her furrow in the earth.
“I believe I will rest now,” she said. “Healing is… exhausting work, I fear.” Robin rested her head on her front legs and shut her eyes once Chrom and Frederick turned to leave. Libra stood up, his knees protesting loudly as he moved. Robin peeled one eyelid open and stared at him, amusement clear in her dark eyes.
“Perhaps I am not the only one who should see a healer,” she remarked, a hiss escaping her mouth as she watched him stiffly hobble away.
“I will see you later, Robin,” Libra replied, refusing to dignify that observation with a response.
Tearing down the tent and transporting it further into the temple was a simple matter. Finding a place to pitch it was more difficult, but with some careful planning and a little help from Stahl (who agreed to stand watch for the night with Kellam) Libra found a flat bit of earth to drive the stakes into. Robin watched quietly as Maribelle (who dragged Miriel, Lissa, and Lon’qu along with her) ran her through a rigorous series of stretches and tests. Random Shepherds entered the inner sanctum to say hello and offer their assistance in some manner, but they kept a wary eye on Robin even as they introduced themselves. They left soon enough, however, and once more Robin and Libra were alone (though he heard Stahl and Kellam’s sparse conversation drift down the stairs, a low, musical murmur that Libra found oddly comforting). Once they ate a meal and the sun fully set, Libra said goodnight to Robin and retreated to his tent to sleep.
Rest proved to be elusive once again. Despite his exhaustion Libra could not settle into his bedroll. The air in the tent was stuffy, and he was horribly aware of Robin just outside of his tent. He shut his eyes and breathed slowly, evenly, trying to find some steady rhythm that would force him to relax and fall into slumber, and the sound of summer insects lulled him into an uneasy sleep.
His throat burned. He choked on the grit and red dust that was kicked up around him in the heat of battle. Plegia was hot and dry and barren, and the battlefield was a hellish nightmare he thought he left behind him years ago when the war ended with the former Exalt’s death. The field itself could have been any number of battles he was in in Plegia. There was nothing distinctive about the landscape beyond the red dirt and hot sun beating down on his back. Yet this vague Plegian battlefield haunted him, following him in his dreams: the heat, the dirt, the bone-deep exhaustion-
The death. Always so much death. Libra gripped the handle of his axe, the wood worn smooth from so much use and slick with- sweat? Blood? He didn’t know, and at this point it didn’t matter.
“This is what you are, deep down,” a strangely familiar voice whispered, although when he turned his head to search for a speaker, he found the battlefield strangely empty. “Just another cutthroat looking for another fight, waiting for something to kill or kill you. You’re empty inside.” Libra searched for the source of the voice, but a hot wind blew dust into his eyes, and he was blinded.
“Soulless demon,” the voice whispered, mocking him as he stumbled around the battlefield. “Vicious, hiding behind your pure white robes, as if your hands aren’t blood red, as if you’ve been cleansed. Disguising yourself as a pretty golden saint, blameless, above everyone, here to fix every problem-”
“Stop it,” Libra shouted, staggering forward blindly, dragging his feet and kicking up more dirt as he moved towards the voice. But the speaker seemed to dance around him, coming from every direction as it spoke.
“-because perfect Saint Libra has the answers,” the voice continued, rising in volume with a maniacal glee. “Saint Libra will say a prayer and heal a cut and suddenly all the death and destruction he left behind is wiped clean, as if it never happened-”
“Stop! It!” he cried, and the voice cackled, whispering in his ear as malice dripped from every word like honey. Like poison.
“Saint Libra can face the dread wyrm, Saint Libra can undo the fell dragon's curse, Saint Libra can solve all problems because he is oh so holy and oh so righteous-”
“STOP!” Libra screamed, and he launched himself out of his bedroll.
It was silent in his tent. Dark. Sweat dripped down his linen nightshirt and plastered his hair to the back of his neck, to his forehead, to his cheeks. Libra’s chest heaved as he breathed and wildly cast his gaze about, fumbling in the night as he searched for- for something. Anything. His hand fell upon the worn leather of his boot, and he tightened his grip until the cold metal of the buckle pressed into his palm and left an imprint in the flesh.
“Libra?” Robin called out softly. “Are you awake?”
Robin. Robin was outside. Awake. She probably heard everything. Shame coursed through Libra’s veins like fire. Libra dropped the boot in his hand like it was a snake and drew his knees up to his chest. What a terrible impression he made, especially in front of the one person who he was charged to… care for. It was different when one of his brother monks found him in this state, such as Brother Ferdinand, or if a soldier and warrior like Lon’qu witnessed his nightmares. They had experience. They understood. As embarrassing as it was to be found in such a weakened state, there was camaraderie to be found in these moments. But Robin was… she needed his strength. His steadiness. She put her hopes, her very fate, in his hands, and if she saw him this way- Libra breathed in slowly, then out.
“Y-yes,” he croaked. “My apologies.”
“No need,” Robin swiftly replied. “Nightmares?”
“… yes,” Libra admitted. Pathetic, that was what he was. Cowering in his tent, hiding from the world because of his own flaws and fears. He slowly uncurled his body and brushed his damp hair out of his face.
“Hmmmm.” Libra heard Robin move outside of the tent, heard the rustle of saplings and grass as she slowly walked. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness he saw a large shadow outside of his tent, until it finally stopped.
“Would you like to join me outside? I find the night air to be refreshing,” Robin said, and the offer was tempting.
“Thank you for the invitation,” Libra murmured, and he threw his blanket off so he could crawl out of his tent.
The cool air was a balm upon his heated skin. Libra’s eyes fell upon Robin, who was gazing down at him from her perch upon a fallen pillar. Her tail was neatly curled around her legs and claws like a cat, and she bowed her head once he emerged, meeting his stare with intense scrutiny. The grass underneath Libra’s feet pricked at his rough calluses, and a light breeze stirred his hair and clothes. It was as far away from his nightmare Plegian battlefield as Libra could imagine, which comforted him.
“The stars are bright tonight,” Robin suddenly said. “Very pretty. Would you like to see?”
Stargazing? It was an odd suggestion, but Libra would not question it. Much better than being interrogated, at least. Libra shuffled his feet as he approached, then climbed up to sit next to Robin on the fallen pillar. He looked through the great hole in the domed ceiling and gazed up at the night sky. Stars glittered like bits of broken glass scattered across the darkness. It was… peaceful, Libra decided as he tried to identify constellations that he had half-forgotten. His heartbeat slowed, and the hellish heat of that nightmare field faded in the cool night.
“I don’t sleep well either,” Robin said, a confession that startled Libra. “Sometimes I wake up convinced I’m back in Plegia. It’s why I made my den here, you know. The cave I was bedding down in was… too similar. When I woke from my own nightmares, I could scarcely tell the difference.”
“And so, you moved,” Libra replied.
“And so, I moved,” Robin sighed. “The wisteria is a lovely reminder that I’m not in Plegia. There weren’t many flowers in my cell.”
“A cell?”
“Room. Chamber. Den,” Robin said. “I wasn’t allowed to leave, so it was a cell in every practical sense, no matter the decor.”
“A cell you escaped,” Libra pointed out. Robin snorted, and Libra pulled his eyes away from the stars to look at her. Her mane gleamed, and her frightening horns seemed softer in the silvery wash of moonlight and gentle shadows. Robin’s eyes were trained on the sky, sorrow etched in her face as she gazed longingly at the stars. Perhaps she longed to take to the air. Perhaps she was lost in her past.
“Not without a good deal of trouble. It wasn’t easy to cross the border, and afterwards…” Robin shook her head. “Maribelle wasn’t wrong. My condition was bad even before I made my escape.”
“And your flight exacerbated those injuries,” Libra murmured as he reconsidered Robin’s condition. Her physical state was understandable, and now… well, he might have just caught a glimpse into why Robin was so… desperate. It wasn’t only Grima that drove her into the arms of her Ylissean enemies, but her own loneliness. To escape isolation and doom she placed herself at their mercy. It took courage to place your faith in the unknown.
“I wasn’t particularly cautious, either. Threw myself into danger whenever I thought I might gain an advantage. I suppose I hoped that, if I was in a bad way, it would make finishing me off that much easier,” Robin murmured into the darkness, her eyes fixed on the night sky and the stars that twinkled overhead. “I didn’t think I would find allies on this side of the border, never mind friends.”
“You said you had friends in Plegia. What are they like?” Libra asked.
Robin looked thoughtful, a wistful smile crossing her face. “Hmm. Clever, both of them. Odd, but we all are in our own ways. Henry’s an expert in dark magic, and Tharja loves her curses- loved. Loved her curses.”
“Oh.” Libra’s heart sank at the use of the past tense. Robin’s voice was bitter when she spoke again, her voice a low, angry rumble.
“We all knew what it would mean if I escaped. We were supposed to go together. All three of us. But when the alarm was raised there were so many soldiers, and in the rush-” Robin sighed and lowered her head. Even in the low light of the chamber Libra saw a tear glittering under Robin’s eyes. He hadn’t known dragons could weep.
“They believed they could save me. Believed so fervently that I began to believe it as well,” Robin explained. “I nearly gave up when I was first captured, but Tharja and Henry… they cared. They believed I could keep Grima at bay. When I lost them, I- I nearly lost myself again, which was when I decided to… well. You know all that. But meeting you and Chrom and the Shepherds… it’s another chance. I have to take it. I have to try and tear him out, once and for all. For them. For- for everyone. And if I can’t-” Robin faltered, and despite her great and intimidating appearance she seemed as brittle and ephemeral as ice, easily shattered with a touch. Libra braced his forearms on his thighs and looked out into the darkness before him. There was little he could do to quell the fear Robin felt. It was one he shared from the moment he learned of Grima’s possible return. And for all his promises and assurances he could not shake the mocking voice from his nightmare. Golden Saint Libra, promising salvation while leaving chaos in his wake. What sort of man was he to offer a solution to Robin’s problems? But he had to try. He had to offer the comfort he could. It was all he could do.
“I will be there. No matter what happens,” Libra said, for it was the only promise he could keep.