Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“When are Mother and Mama coming home?”

"In a few more days, Little Bird.”

“Why do they have to leave so much? I miss them, Uncle.”

“Well, being an alchemist doesn’t pay as well as it used to, and your Mama needs to travel longer trade routes to make ends meet. Your Mom has to go with her to make sure she’s safe since brigand and dragon attacks are becoming more common as of late. Don’t worry, they’ll be home soon, Little Bird.”

“Okay”

“You should go to bed soon. It’s getting quite late.”

“Okay, Uncle. Can you tell me a story?”

“Aren’t you getting a little old for bedtime stories, Little Bird?”

“I guess, but I still want to hear one. If I read before bed I’ll just keep reading until the sun comes up, but if you tell the story, then I’ll have to be done and go to sleep.”

“Haha, you have your Mom’s wit, Little Bird. Which story would you like to hear?”

“Something about Manaketes and Dragons, like Mama.”

 “Well, it’s her grandmother who was a Manakete. Your Mama can’t turn into a Dragon and you can’t either.”

“Okay… are you sure?”

“I’m very sure, Little Bird. Now, let’s see… what tale to tell. I know. How about the tale of Naga? Our city’s Goddess? Or, well, former one.”

“Yeah!”

“So, long ago, before humans, Archanaea was ruled by dragons—a proud, powerful race. They were made up of five tribes—Earth, Water, Fire, Air, and Divine. The Divine ruled over them all and was led by the great Draconic Goddess, Naga. She had two trusted friends—Mila who brought vitality to the earth to sustain life, and Duma who trained and raised the dragons to become fearsome warriors. Naga herself could fulfill these tasks but instead chose to rely on the two siblings.

Over time, Dragonkind found humans, fending for themselves in small groups among the continent. They saw that we shared the same spark of life as them—the drive to create, to live, to love—and so, the Divine Dragons decided to use their power and knowledge to nurture and raise us up from the dirt. With their protection, knowledge, and guidance, we were able to grow and create thriving villages, towns, and cities. Even though many Dragons disdained humanity for their weakness, the world became vibrant and peaceful.

However, this did not last. Something terrible began to stir in the minds of all Dragons. They call it the Great Catastrophe. One by one, Dragons began to lose that spark of life and become feral, violent animals. They found that the only way to stop this was to seal their great power into a stone—what we call a Dragonstone—and assume a humanlike form. Many did this to avoid their terrible fate, but many more still refused. Medeus, the leader of the Earth Dragons, found the idea of giving up his great power and leveling himself with man disgusting. He, along with the other three tribes, tried to lead an insurrection against Naga and her right and left hands. Many of them had already started to turn, and this only made them more fearsome warriors. But with Mila’s control over bounty, Duma’s might, and Naga’s power and leadership, the Divine Dragons defeated the onslaught. They suffered terrible losses, and so, began the decline of Dragons. Many died, many others made peace with the impending Catastrophe, and the rest became Manaketes.

Naga herself along with Mila and Duma chose to remain as they were, believing they had more time and wanting to continue their work as Gods of man. Even though Manaketes could still turn into dragons for short periods of time, their power was significantly weakened. Wars and skirmishes with the now feral Dragons became very common, but life continued under the watchful care of the Divine Dragons. Naga’s favorite human settlement was Thabes, our bustling city amongst the sands. She would frequent a grand temple in what was Old Town. I went their often with my parents—your grandparents. Naga was regal-- breathtaking. She stood at least 30 feet above us and spoke with a voice that shook mountains. Sunlight reflected off her scales like the finest gemstones, shimmering and golden. She listened to all our pleas and prayers one after another and guided us towards salvation. It was a beautiful time.

Things started to crumble when Mila and Duma rebelled against Naga. Naga had decided she wanted to not simply live as a Manakete, but to give up her physical form and leave this realm altogether. She saw the great destructive power her daughter held and feared what she and the other Dragon Gods would fall to. Naga created a great seal to protect her daughter and the world, but she insisted that she, Mila, and Duma must leave. Mila and Duma refused, not wanting to abandon their pockets of humanity and launched a war against her. Although Naga was severely outnumbered, she tore through their ranks and was victorious. She couldn’t force her two friends to leave this realm, so instead, she exiled them to a land across the sea, and gave Duma a sword forged from one of her fangs. When the time came that the Great Catastrophe would befall both of them, this Kingsfang would hold the power to end them.

It wasn’t long before Naga made her ascent. She left our realm without so much as a goodbye, leaving her children to struggle and fall without her. Some say she collapsed all of Old Town and the Tunnels underneath to hide her corporeal form, while others say that the throes of her death simply shook the earth until our city started to collapse. Whatever happened, we were left damaged and bereft. Our crops withered, skirmishes with Dragons became more frequent and violent, and the peace between cities grew more and more unsteady. Nothing has improved in the 30 or so years since her departure. We are bereft of guidance, of protection, and of prosperity. Without the Gods I fear that we will soon fall into chaos and then into nothing…. I should stop my ramblings. It wouldn’t do well to end your bedtime story on a much sourer note, Little Bird.”

“… Are we really doomed, Uncle?”

“Yes, I fear we are so long as we walk our path alone. But, that is why I am an alchemist, and why I’ve asked for your help, Little Bird. I am going to create something splendorous, a new god for Thabes. You want our city to be saved, right?”

“Yeah! I’ll help you with anything you need, and when we’re done, we can all live together, just like before!

“Of course, my Little Bird.”

“Thanks, for the story, Uncle.”

“Yes, you’re very welcome, Little Bird. Now, get some rest. We have much work to do tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, Uncle Forneus.”

“Goodnight, my Little Bird, and may dawn greet you softly.

…

…

…

You’ve helped me so much already, Robin, and you will continue to help me yet. I know you will. You don’t know it yet, but you are our savior. It won’t be long now. With your great-grandmother’s blood and Hers, you will become my greatest Creation.”

Chapter Text

She wasn’t lost.

Definitely. Not. Lost.

Aversa knew exactly where she was: one of the desecrated temples in the underground Thabean labyrinth. Sure, she wasn’t so confident about where the exit was anymore, but she knew where she was. She also knew that she was under no circumstances, supposed to be here, but this of course, didn’t stop her from exploring. Or, well, more like searching to be precise. This time of year, her parents shrunk into themselves, mourning the disappearance of her older brother in these twisting tunnels. She never knew him, being born a few years afterwards. She always wanted a brother, and more importantly, wanted her parents to be happy. It tore her up seeing them try to hide and contain their sorrow, only for it to overflow in the late hours of the night. It wrenched her heart further still that there was nothing she could do about it.

Nothing except for this.

Judging from how confusing every floor was and all of the crates of miraculously still preserved supplies, he could still be here and alive. It didn’t matter that she had seen at least two dozen skeletons so far or that she didn’t even know his name or what he looked like or that he even wouldn’t know she existed. They were a family of dark mages, so they must have some sort of magical special sibling connection, right? Either way, he would have the same white hair and dark skin as she did, so that should narrow it down somewhat. White hair wasn’t that common after all.

Aversa scanned the room for any signs of life. Nothing. Well, at least there’s more supply crates here. Sighing, she picked through them, finding some drinking water and rice she could cook later. Aversa had made sure to pack enough food and tinder, as this little expedition could take at least a week or two, but she still wanted to be cautious. Especially since, she may have forgotten the way she came into this labyrinth. Just maybe. Aversa searched the room, taking in the copious dragon and mountain motifs. The architecture vaguely reminded her of Plegia. The ruins were just north of the border, but the city had fallen to ruin at least a hundred years before Plegia was even a city to begin with.

Putting her musings to the side, she moved to the next room. This must be some sort of important temple chamber, she thought. Finely made fire pits held greenish flames, giving light to the entire room. The walls displayed elaborate carvings and inlays of dragons and clouds, and Aversa could make out the five dragon Tribes. Now dirtied and torn but once beautiful and fine rugs covered the path to the end of the room. Partially decaying silk banners covered the wall on opposite sides of what appeared to be a throne. Above this gilded chair, the wall carvings were desecrated. They were sanded and worn down, an unseemly depression amongst the beautiful stone work. Judging from the overall patterns of the room, it was likely that a divine dragon, perhaps Naga herself, was supposed to be here. Well, whoever decided to redecorate had in fine mosaic tiling, created a forked and curving symbol, with six watching eyes in its place.

The Mark of Grima.

Aversa felt her breath taken away upon realizing what this sacred place was-- an original Temple of the Fell Dragon. The Followers of Naga had destroyed every temple and almost all knowledge of Grima in their bloody crusade after the Great Schism, but this hidden gem beneath the sands was untouched. She traced the fishbone shape of the mark over her heart in awe. Just wait a little longer, big brother, Aversa thought as she started searching for any holy texts or regalia. Like many others, knowing her religion was gutted left her starving for anything she could find.

This room was rather barren, holding little but the décor, but she found the next room to be more lived-in. It appeared to be some sort of study or office. She rifled through the drawers of a decaying desk and found several journals and loose papers filled with an unfamiliar script. She also saw and grabbed a small bowl of coins and stuffed all her findings in her pack. A nearby growl startled her from her searching, and she froze.

Clank. Thud. Clank. Thud. Clank. Thud.

Crap. Another Terror. Probably one of the armored Guardians by the sound of it. She peeked around the corner of the doorway to see, sure enough, a Guardian in the Temple room. Great. Just her luck. She could continue down the hallway and take a turn to put some distance between her and it. With her eyes trained on the Guardian, she left the study and backed down the hall, away from the Terror.

Snap!

The Terror turned its glowing eyes towards her. Lance in hand, it lumbered towards her as fast as it could. The armored ones were the slowest of the Terrors she’d seen, but it was still a terrifying sight, seeing it start to barrel towards her.

Crap crap crap! Aversa thought as she quickly ran and cast a hex behind her, creating a cloud of smoke. She used the time bought the hex bought to turn into an empty room and ready a spell. Guardians were all physical power with little resistance, so if she could get two successive shots at this one, she could get away unscathed. Aversa hid along the wall near the doorway and waited for the Guardian to edge closer to her hiding spot. C’mon, just a little closer.

Gotcha!

Aversa drew forth a surge of dark magic and directed it towards the Terror. It flew into its chest cavity and flared, dark flames shooting out from the gaps in its armor. It roared in agony, and Aversa used this chance to fling another hex at it. The Terror continued to roar as flames consumed it from the inside out, until it fell to its knees, unmoving.

Aversa leaned against the wall, the energy from the adrenaline washing away. That was too close. As loathed as she was too admit it, she had been here too long and had been foolish enough to only tell a merchant from a nearby town where she was. Aversa clenched her fists and willed herself not to cry. I’m not going to die here. I can’t. She took deep, steady breathes to try to calm herself.

“Okay… Okay… It’s going to be fine. It doesn’t matter if I’ve lost my way,” she told herself. “This is a sunken city with many entrances, so I just have to make sure to keep going up. If I can’t find my brother, then I can come down here again. I can come with a search party. It’s going to be fine.”

Her breathing now steadier, Aversa stood up and scanned the area, reviewing what she could remember of this floor. She climbed down from some rubble outside of this temple somewhere. She could backtrack but that would run the risk of encountering Terrors who picked up her scent. This Temple should have more exits, somewhere. It only took a few minutes of sneaking through hallways to find a door that lead out to the partially collapsed cavern system the ruins were housed in.

Aversa cautiously entered what must have been a courtyard. The brittle skeletons of shrubbery and trees adorned the crumbled paths and fountains of this area. She could only imagine what it must have looked like originally. As Aversa made her way through the room, she saw something shiny peak out of a rather large fountain. She went in for a closer look, and upon further inspection, saw that it was a wing. A very large, dark, glossy wing. Said wing appeared to be attached to a heap of more wings and cloth. Whatever it was, it must have heard her approach because it started to stir. She started backing away and readied her tome in case this was a Terror that was about attack— with her luck so far it probably was.

The figure groaned softly and began to right itself. To her great surprise, it wasn’t some sort of horrific, decaying monster, but… a human? Or at least human-looking creature. They wore a long cloak, skirt, and a Plegian style gold Wesekh. The wings she saw were a large pair attached to their back, and strangely, they had six more on their face and a pair of broken horns crept past the fringe of feathers. In the dim light, she could make out an eye on each one. Aversa still had her magic ready at her finger tips for a strike as the wings on their face moved to reveal a human face. He was rubbing his eyes, still sleepy, and had dark skin and white hair like her. He spoke softly to himself in a language she didn’t understand. After a few tense seconds, he blinked blearily and stared down at her, a confused expression painting his face.

This couldn’t be him? But could it? Even though his eyes were different, Valmese perhaps, he looked like he could be her brother. He was probably around the same age, he was dressed in Plegian clothes, and if this was some sort of curse, it would explain why he had disappeared and chosen to live in an underground labyrinth. Her voice caught in her throat, and after clearing it, she said as clearly as she could, “Brother?”

“Brother…” he echoed. His eyebrows knit together, and he paused, as if turning over the word in his head. “You are my sister then?” he said, his voice still soft.

Aversa could hardly believe this was happening. Her big brother! Excitement and relief thrummed in her veins as she said, perhaps a little too loudly, “Y-yes! My name’s Aversa! What’s yours? My-- no, our parents refused to talk about you, so I don’t know your name.”

“My name…” her brother replied slowly. “It’s, Robin, I think… that’s odd….” Robin started to frown and rub at his temples. “W-where, where am I? What am I doing here?” His facial wings folded up anxiously, and he started looking around. “Why do I have wings?! And birds?! I-I can’t remember anything!” he shakily said. The sound of crows started to fill the room, and Aversa’s eyes widened as she saw that the birds he was talking about where crows half-merged into his arms. Robin clutched his head and started to panic, breathing heavily. He didn’t seem to notice the muffled screech of a gargoyle Terror, but Aversa did.

Crap, we have to get out of here, quick! “Um, take deep breathes, Robin! Everything’s going to be fine! It’s probably just a curse or five! We come from a family of dark mages! They can help sort things out! Just deep breathes!” Aversa said hurriedly. She grabbed his hands in what she tried to make a reassuring gesture, and he let her take his hands from his temples. Aversa was worried her words offered little help, she was only 13, and despite her parent’s persistent melancholy, she had little experience and success with comforting or consoling people. But despite her fears, Robin’s breathing slowed. As he stared at their hands, she made an off-hand mental note that his eyes were an almost rust-like red with lizard-like pupils.

“Y-yes, you’re right. Everything, everything will be fine, Aversa.” Robin said shakily. His breathing was more even, and he started to collect himself. “Where are we, exactly?”

“The Thabes Labyrinth,” Aversa replied. “I came here searching for you because that’s where you were last seen. We’re pretty far down, I think. There’s a lot of Terrors, Risen, and dragons here. I think I heard one close, so we should get out of here” she explained, motioning for him to follow her away from the Terror’s growl. She knew he would ask her how to get out of here, but she still hoped he wouldn’t.

Robin followed and said slowly to himself, “Terrors… Risen…” He frowned again, probably trying to unearth any memories and then turned to Aversa. “Those are… monsters, right?”

“Well, Risen are all undead and most Terrors are also undead, but some of them are monsters. They’re bad news all the same.”

“Okay. Well, I have this knife and a magic tome, I think? If you lead the way, I can try to cover us.” Robin pulled out an old thunder tome from his cloak and showed her a dagger at his belt.

“Yeah! Totally, great idea” Aversa said a little too fast before turning away from Robin.

“You do know the way out, right?” Worry crept into his voice, and he slowed down a bit.

“Umm, er… I kind of forgot where I came, but the ruins are underground, so we just have to go up” Aversa gave him her best smile, trying to ease her own nerves as well.

“Go up? Yes, of course! You’re quite sharp, Aversa. Did you come down here all by yourself? That’s quite impressive, if a bit ill-advised…”

“Thanks! I’m a pretty powerful mage” She couldn’t help but let a hint of pride creep into her voice. “Here! Stairs!” she exclaimed triumphantly as she pointed towards then and led Robin toward them.

“Well, I can tell I am in good hands, Little Sister.”

The two made their way through the labyrinth, dodging enemies when they could and taking them down when it couldn’t be avoided. Robin had a knack for strategy that made confronting hordes much easier, and Aversa had not been exaggerating when she said she had a talent for magic. They traveled for what must have been days, climbing up broken buildings and crumbling facades. The discovered early on that whatever Robin had been through left him exhausted, and he needed to sleep after only a few hours of travel. The two also discovered that the wings on Robin’s back were both right wings—the one on his left was rotated 180 degrees so that it was upside-down. He couldn’t make sustained flight, but he could give himself, while holding Aversa, enough of a boost to make high jumps. This curse that had befallen Robin wasn’t like any that Aversa had ever seen. A seed of worry grew in her—that she and their parents would be unable to dispel it. Robin, strangely, didn’t seem to be bothered much by his mutations, but it couldn’t be easy living with them. She wondered what happened to him, what memories he had that were seared away by some unknown force. He had been missing for 15 years, trapped underground here.

Robin talked with her almost nonstop as they made their ascent. He was almost as excited to have a little sister as Aversa was to have an older brother. Aversa still, could hardly believe this was happening, but she pushed aside her disbelief to indulge her brother in her lengthy explanations of magic and dark magic and hexes. Grief made her parents distant and most kids her age saw her as a know-it-all, so finding someone who wanted to be around her and spend time with her was a rare occurrence. Robin, along with being a good listener, was also funny (on occasion) and his facial wings magnified his expressiveness, making him fun to watch as they talked. The time they spent climbing up the labyrinth felt like they were making up for all the years they were apart.

They had just reached what must have been the third floor as Robin was asking Aversa more questions about her life.

“What are our parents like?”

“They’re nice. They run an apothecary and train young mages in our village.

“That’s good to hear. What is the village called?”

“A small village called Lias on the border between Regna Ferox and Plegia.”

“What are those—Regna Ferox and Plegia?”

“Two countries. We’re from Plegia. It’s a desert nation founded by the Grimleal. Regna Ferox is a country to the north founded by barbarians.”

“What are the Grimleal?”

“Followers of the Fell Dragon, Grima. He’s the patron god of Plegia and has been since it was a tiny village in the desert. Dad says he cared for us when the rulers of Archanaea didn’t, and the only thing Naga has done has destroyed the Fell Dragon, burned our teachings, and declared us heathens.”

“Naga…” Robin whispered softly, almost to himself. “Aghh--” he grunted as he clutched his temples.

“Brother! What’s wrong?” Aversa asked, rushing back to him.

“I-I don’t know. My head just started hurting,” he replied. He shut his eyes, leaned against the nearby wall, and slid down it. “I-I think we need to stop for a bit, Aversa. I’m sorry, we’re so close.”

“It’s alright, brother. We can take out time,” Aversa said, sitting down next to him.

She was beginning to worry. Time was hard to keep track of down here, but she was sure that Robin had been drifting in and out of sleep, exhausted, for far longer than normal. Every time they tried to move a significant distance, the splitting headache would return, and he would all but pass out again. They had found a hidden spot to wait it out. Dragons didn’t prowl the upper floors, so the only threat was from weaker Risen and Terrors. Robin must have sensed her anxiety and wanting to leave because he insisted that he would be fine on his own if she wanted to scout ahead for a bit. Eventually, her fears of running out of supplies won out, and she left him, dozing in and out of consciousness with a tome in his hands.

He’ll be fine, she thought to herself as she wandered through the halls. She was using the unraveling string of an ancient shirt they had found to mark her path, so she wouldn’t lose him again. Robin would be fine on his own for a little bit. She had seen how he could fire off powerful magic in a pinch. She shouldn’t be worried about him, but still, she was.

Ka-thunk!

A brick fell somewhere nearby, a little too close for comfort. Aversa tensed up, hand at her tome. To her surprise and delight, the being around the corner was the merchant from the nearby village! Aversa rushed up to her in an embrace. “Anna! I’m so glad to see you! I found my brother! Can you believe it? He looks a little strange because he’s been cursed, but I found him!”

Anna’s eyes widened in surprise at her words, but she returned the hug. After a few seconds, she broke their embrace and she said, trying to keep her voice steady, “Aversa, we were worried sick! You’ve been gone for four and a half weeks. We were afraid you had died! Gods, I should’ve never let you come here, I thought you said you would stay on the first floor?”

Aversa felt the guilt burn under her skin. “I knew you’d never let me go if I was honest about it. I’m sorry, I really I am. I’m just--” her voice broke, and she took a second to compose herself. “I’m just tired of not being able to fix anything for my parents and being lonely, and I thought this was something I could do. And I did!”

Anna took a breath and placed her hand on her shoulder reassuringly. “I’m sure you are, Aversa. I understand what you feel, but you’re a kid. It’s not your responsibility to fix your parents problems, and I’m going to talk about this with them to try to fix things, Okay?” She paused, waiting for Aversa to nod. She continued, “Listen, we can talk about this more when we get out of here. Your parents are waiting, and we should call back the other search parties,” she said as she grabbed her hand and started to lead her through the hallways.

Aversa stood firm and anxiously told her, “Wait, we have to go get Robin first.”

“Who?” Anna asked, confusion etching her face. Despite this, she still held firm on Aversa’s hand.

“My older brother! I told you I found him!” Aversa said, growing panicked.

“Aversa, your brother—“Anna stopped herself. No, this wasn’t the time nor the place, and her parents should be the ones to tell her this. But who was this Robin she was talking about? She had seen enough Terrors and heard enough horrific tales of the labyrinth to not want to find out. “Shit. Aversa, we need to leave now,” she said, tugging on her hand and practically dragging the teenager through the hallways.

“No, Anna! Stop! We have to go get Robin! That’s what I came here for! I can’t lose my brother again! He’s my friend I can’t leave him!” Aversa cried as she was forced to keep up with Anna.

“Aversa, I’m sorry, but whatever you found is not your brother.”            

Life could hardly be called the same after that. Her parents began to make more attempts to become closer with her, but her insistence on finding her brother quickly drove cracks into what connections they formed. Still, it was better than before and was a comfort from school. Her little expedition forced her to attend summer classes, and the other children were quick to ridicule her for it and her “imaginary,” as they called him, brother. She had begun to realize that there was little she could do to make her family like it was before and had begun to accept that. What nagged at her was how much she wished that people would believe her experience.

Much sooner than expected, her wish was granted by a man named Validar. He came to Lias, searching for the young explorer and her strange stories, and she was only too happy to indulge him, and when he began to unravel her life, how could she suspect her new friend?

Chapter Text

Chapter 2: A Journey of Divine Destiny

Deep breathes.

Chrom closed his eyes and stood in front of the mirror in his room. Today was the day. Ever since his father woke up from his coma, his life returned to the lifeless gray of his early childhood, all energy focused on one single goal. The goal he would finally set out to achieve, and then he would be one breath freer from the endless scrutiny and berating.

Today was the day he began his journey to find and destroy the Fell Dragon.

Even with a goddess’ blood in his veins and her Brand on his skin, Chrom had never been particularly religious, or at least, not to any level his parents would’ve wanted. He never quite felt a strong connection to Naga’s teachings when he was a child, and even though his father had tried to instill the same religiosity he had into Chrom as soon as he could lift Falchion, he never understood the fervor his father held for the Grimleal’s destruction. Perhaps it was because it was his mother who was of Exalted blood, and he wanted to continue some sort of legacy after her untimely death during childbirth. He had begun to understand some of the devotion to Naga after braving Naga’s fire and undergoing the Awakening, but it was more awe and fear he felt. Her voice had echoed in his head as fire burned his very soul, both sensations inescapable until he was deemed worthy of her power.

Additionally, his father’s bloody crusade in Plegia turned him off from ever having a fervor for religion. True, Naga herself did declare them heathens, but they were people for gods’ sake. There wasn’t any just cause for such brutality. Even if they worshipped an embodiment of destruction, they weren’t doing anyone any harm because of it. After his father fell into a coma during his crusade, his sister, Emmeryn had ascended the throne and began to pick up the pieces of the halidom. He left quite a mess, but Emmeryn took it all in stride and even began to smooth over their relations with Plegia, giving them reparations and a formal apology. But now he was awake again. He wrested control from Emmeryn’s grasp, and if not for the council and Emmeryn becoming a councilmember herself, he would have plunged Ylisse into war again.

A swift knock interrupted his thoughts. “Good morning, Milord. The hour of dawn approaches. Are you ready to ride?” Frederick’s voice called out from the hallway.

“Good morning, Frederick. I’ll be ready in ten minutes,” he replied, trying to calm his nerves.

Deep breathes.

In, out, in out.

He could do this. He had been training for his entire youth for this and then more so for the past year and a half. He had mastered the sword, various forms of combat, studied the teachings of Naga, and of course, had all manner of etiquette teachings shoved down his throat. He had trained so much, Falchion practically felt like an extension of himself. He could do this. It was a few day’s ride to the Thabes Labyrinth, and then the challenge was just getting through the maze itself. There were hardly any Risen, dragons, or Terrors lurking in it these days, so it was just a matter of finding the Fell Dragon. It would be another three years before it awoke as the divine prophecy foretold, so it should be easy to slay, right? It must also be small or else Naga couldn’t fit it into the ruined city. Even if it was as large as the legend foretold—enough to swallow the sky—there couldn’t be much room for it to move underground. He would just have to dodge its attacks and strike its neck. Easy.

Chrom opened his eyes and looked over himself in the mirror one final time. He felt like he looked older, like his life had been moving forward nonstop since his father awoke. But he also felt small in a way. His father’s return to his life had unearthed so many insecurities he tried to ignore, and his prompt scoffing at his gender and transition mere hours after he awoke did little to help his piece of mind. Thankfully, Lissa was a babe he hardly payed attention to when he was still present in their lives, so he didn’t realize that she was also trans. For better or worse, her lack of the Brand freed her from the brunt his jagged scrutiny. Hopefully, finally fulfilling his father’s beloved goal appease him for a while and give them all a breath of peace.

Taking another deep breath, Chrom turned away from the mirror, looped the Exalted Falchion in its sheath into his belt, and picked up the Fire Emblem from his desk, the five gemstones glittering. As he exited his room one thought kept ringing out in his mind.

Today’s the day.

Chrom and Emmeryn hurried down the castle halls. His goodbye to his father had been as terse and uncomfortable as he expected, but a little longer than he thought. Now, he was leaving Frederick waiting in the stables. Emmeryn reassured him he wouldn’t mind, but he still felt bad. When he finally arrived, he heard his and his younger sister’s voices within.

“No, absolutely not,” Frederick said, voice firm and dismissive.

“Oh, c’mon! Frederick! Why can’t I go?” Lissa pouted. “And don’t tell me it’s too dangerous! I’ve been on plenty of missions with the Shepherds before!”

“Milady, this is not some skirmish with brigands or a stray Risen attack. We are going to slay the Fell Dragon itself.” Frederick countered.

“All the more reason you should bring a war cleric with you! If you’re going to the bottom of the Labyrinth, you’ll run out of healing supplies!” Lissa argued. She put her hands on her hips and said, “Besides, I’m not letting Chrom do this alone. I’m of Exalted blood too!”

“She has a point Frederick,” Chrom said as he approached the two. Frederick’s eyes widened in slight surprise but he made no move to interrupt him as he continued, “going in without a healer would be foolhardy.”

“Lissa’s not a child anymore, and she has become quite proficient with the axe.” Emmeryn jumped in. Even without the crown, she still carried a considerable presence and gentle authority.  

“Yes. Furthermore, I want her to be there if she so chooses,” Chrom continued.

Lissa snuck Frederick a triumphant smile that Chrom also caught. His mouth twitched upward in amusement, but his nerves were too great to break out into a full grin.

“Alright,” Frederick acquiesced. “But, this is a very serious mission, so I expect you to treat it as such.”

“Yeah, of course!” Lissa said, her smile lighting up her face. She quickly picked up her pack, roll of staves, and her beloved bolt and volant axes. She had apparently been banking on Chrom and Emmeryn to back her up, but he was just glad that she wanted to accompany them. He didn’t want to do this alone and also wanted to give her a breath of fresh air away from their father’s overbearing presence.

“Well, then, this is goodbye for now,” Emmeryn said. “Good luck on your quest and safe travels to you all. I know you can see this through and come out safe.” She drew her younger siblings in for a hug. “I’ll keep the capital in order while you’re way,” she said as she drew away.

“Thank you sister,” Chrom said, his voice almost choking with emotion.

“We’ll be back before you know it, Em!” Lissa said.

“Thank you, your Grace. We will see this through,” Frederick said.

The journey had been like any other, save for the sand that spread out like the sea as they neared their destination. Lissa didn’t make her usual complaints about camping, wanting to prove how she was taking this seriously. That didn’t mean that she still wasn’t loving the dirty, gritty part of travel on foot, but the sand wasn’t that bad, especially since she wasn’t as heavily armored as Chrom and Frederick. Frederick had left his horse, Maisy, in the care of family friends in a village just before the sands, but his pace was arguably the same as if he had been riding his steed in the shifting sands. Chrom had been tense throughout their journey, but he seemed much more at ease in a way since they left the castle, probably because they were finally away from their father. Once upon a time, Lissa mourned how she never got to know either of her parents, but her sibling’s strained looks planted doubt in her heart. As she got older, she learned of her mother’s cold distant outlook and her father’s bloodlust. Now that her father was awake, she got to know his strict expectations of perfection in full force. He quickly learned that she didn’t bear the Brand, at age 16 no less, and that had destroyed any chance of warmth in their relationship. Chrom started to become quiet and stressed, and Frederick didn’t have the best way with reassuring words, so Lissa found her comfort in Emmeryn and her best friend and partner Maribelle.

Maribelle had comforted her countless times after tense family meals and arguments. They practically lived together with how much time they spent in each other’s rooms. She had tried to dissuade Lissa from going on this journey, but she insisted, saying she wanted to support Chrom and she needed to see it through with him. After realizing her mind was set, Maribelle made her promise to come home alive, all in one piece and then come over for a celebration feast afterwards. She had of course said yes, and plans were made. As much as she wanted to slay an evil god with her brother and steward, she also couldn’t wait to come home and run into Maribelle’s arms.

After reaching the top of what must have been the 100^th sand dune, the party saw a cluster of crumbling ruins, sunken into the sand. It was beautiful in an antiquated way. The tips of spires spiraled out of the sand, and there was a belfry with its bell, intact but cracked. The ruins had a style reminiscent of Plegia, but this came as little surprise considering that there was some sort of deeper connection between the two places.

They approached the ruins, and found a doorway that lead into the caverns inside. No one said anything, but Lissa nodded in confirmation as Chrom caught her glance. Frederick released a ball of magic flame from its lantern, and they descended into the ancient darkness.

As expected, there were few hostile creatures here. The upper levels had been looted of most treasures, so brigands and thieves had little cause to plunder or stay here. Terrors were in fewer and fewer number, and most Risen—undead soldiers of Grima that still had the nerve to wander the earth—had been dealt with over the centuries. Lissa had made a game with Chrom of how many times she could throw her axe into a Risen’s face and how many times he could slice their heads clean off. If Lissa won, Chrom would take her and Em to the countryside for a sibling outing (she had been pestering him to do so for weeks), and if Chrom won, Lissa would stop putting frogs in his socks for one week. So far Lissa was winning, and she bet Chrom was grateful that there weren’t any amphibians down here. Frederick was clearly impressed and also failed to conceal a bemused grin every time Chrom bemoaned the fate of his socks. 

We’re almost there, Chrom thought. They had just descended to the eighth floor of the Labyrinth. The Fell Dragon supposedly slept at the bottom, the tenth floor, and as they progressed, there were more and more signs of its presence. The Mark of Grima adorned many of the crumbling facades and their interiors, and Risen were more numerous here. The putrid stench of long rotting flesh practically permeated the halls of the forgotten city. The atmosphere grew more and more foreboding, and Chrom appreciated that Lissa was keeping up their game, even he was losing, but he honestly was looking forward to the prospect of a sibling outing. Lissa’s accuracy with an axe truly was something to be feared.

“Well, it seems at this rate, I should start planning our outing and hiding my socks again,” Chrom remarked lightheartedly as Lissa felled another Risen, and he dodged another’s swipe.

“We should go to a lake somewhere! And eat pies!” Lissa said jovially.

“Stay focused, milady and milord,” Frederick called out from a few yards away. He drove his lance through a Risen before turning around and knocking one away with its length.

“Will do,” Chrom replied as he cut down another Risen. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw another one—they must have been a sage in another life-- cast a flare of burning magic straight toward him. He tried to back up but tripped over something, landing on his back on stone and something—soft?             

Thankfully, Lissa saw the sage trying to hit Chrom and swiftly took it out before turning to another one. Even with their magic flame lighting up the area, it was still dim enough for him to have trouble making out what exactly he tripped over. It groaned softly and shifted. Chrom tensed and quickly got up, readying his sword. The lump he tripped over, shifted and looked up at him.

He was Plegian, probably, with fluffy, slightly curling white hair and brown skin, darker than his own. He blinked up at him and smiled sleepily but warmly. He was so entranced by his face that he somehow failed to notice the six wings on his face, two wings on his back, and the broken but spiraling horns on his head. Chrom took a step back at this, further pointing Falchion in his direction, only an inch or two from his throat. This startled the figure and he let out a small yelp as he put his hands up in a sign of surrender and tried to shrink into the floor. His face held an expression of surprise and fear, and his facial wings moved to cover it in some sort of act of defense.

This monstrous appearance… who was this? The were probably connected to the Fell Dragon somehow judging by how this man was probably Plegian, deep in the Thabes labyrinth, and how the Mark of Grima seemed abundant here.

“Milord! Behind you!” Frederick called, and Chrom spun around to impale a charging Risen soldier, and strike at another. They were finally reaching the end of this horde. When he finished felling them and turned his attention back to the strange tripping hazard, he was gone.

Frederick must have noticed his prolonged staring because he walked over, placed a hand on his shoulder (almost fatherly Chrom noted absentmindedly), and said “Is something amiss, milord?”

This brought Chrom back to focus, and he replied “I saw something strange… I tripped over a Plegian man collapsed on the ground, and when he roused and lifted his face… I’m not sure if he was human.”

Frederick’s eyebrows creased in concern. “What do you mean by that? Where is this man?”

“I pointed my sword at him, and that spooked him. He must have run off somewhere. He had horns and wings. Wings on his face too…” Chrom trailed off in thought. He certainly looked ominous, but he also didn’t seem very threatening or malicious. There was something about him that he couldn’t put into words.

“He looked Plegian?” Frederick asked, voice even but with a hint of worry. Lissa ran up to join them, idly wiping rotting blood off her axe.

“Yes, I think so.”

Frederick turned away, surveying the ruins and gripping his lance tighter. “This makes things considerably more dangerous.”

“What do you mean by that? What was that guy?” Lissa asked.

“If he is Plegian he could likely be Grimleal and be here to disrupt our efforts to slay his god and harm you two. The fact that they are here this deep relatively unscathed proves they are considerably powerful. If not, he is probably a dark mage who has wandered these halls for far too long or perhaps a Terror, and this does not make him any less dangerous.”

“He didn’t seem very threatening or malicious, Frederick. If he had ill intentions, he would’ve taken the chance to strike me down when I turned my back on him. He would’ve recognized me as Naga’s champion,” Chrom interjected. Apart from his strange appearance, he didn’t give off any sort of energy except confusion. “We should give him a chance to explain himself. What if he’s trapped down here? What if he needs our help?”

 Frederick gave one of his Trademark where-the-fuck-is-your-sense-of-caution-milord Looks but nevertheless, acquiesced. He had been Chrom’s knight long enough to know this would be a fruitless argument. “As you wish, milord,” Frederick said. Lissa was giving Chrom a funny look, not skeptical or mocking, but almost as if she was trying to put something together.

“Lissa, do you have something to say?” Chrom asked.

“Oh, no! Just thought I remembered something,” Lissa replied, her voice a little too high to be truthful. He would have to ask her about that later.

“Well, if you remember anything, we’re all ears. Whatever his intentions, let me and Lissa talk to him first before you draw your blade Frederick. If he proves hostile, then we’ll deal with him.”

“As you wish, milord,” Frederick replied, somewhat exasperated.

Shit shit shit shit.

Robin sprinted down the halls wildly, away from the clash of swords and the people who would probably try to kill him. He remembered wandering this strange Labyrinth but not what it was or how he got here. He remembered trying to find the exit but succumbing to splitting headaches and the overwhelming tide of sleep countless times. He thought he remembered his name. Robin? Grima? Robin was a bird, and Grima just sounded funny. It probably was just another word in the slosh of his brain. He thought he also remembered a girl with him, but her appearance and voice disappeared into the fog of his mind whenever he tried to draw forth memories of her. He couldn’t remember anything else from his past, and it created a pit of anxiety in his stomach. What was most pressing on his mind was the battle he awoke to and the kind of handsome but also very threatening man who pointed his glowing sword in his face.

He scrambled up a partially eroded edifice, using his unfortunately somewhat useless wings to try to give himself a boost. Those people no doubt saw him as a threat, and he practically looked like a Terror, so he could hardly blame them for that. As he heaved himself up on a ledge the thought struck him. These were people down here. They obviously came here with the intent to do something and leave, so maybe, if he could convince them he wasn’t a threat, they could let him join them, and he could leave the labyrinth. They had to have some sort of exit mapped out, right? Robin couldn’t help but smile to himself. Finally he could leave these wretched halls!

He just had to convince him that he means no harm! Easy enough right? He was unarmed except for a sizable knife that has seen better days, and he really didn’t mean any harm. He could’ve stabbed that man in the back when he turned away or picked up the Risen sage’s spell book to take down their knight, but he didn’t. He just wanted to leave. Robin had a feeling that this was probably not the best argument and his near total lack of memories would do nothing to dissuade their suspicions.

Sighing, Robin brought his knees to his chest and smoothed down the slightly distressed birds in his arms. They must have originally been markings of some sort because, unlike his wings and horns, they lacked lifelike detail and insisted on staying half tattoo, half living crow, embedded in his skin. During his endless wanderings, he found that he could concentrate his magic and smooth down the birds-- along with his wings and horns, but those were more difficult—into simple, frozen markings on his skin. It was a helpful skill, since the crows loved to make noise when he was distressed, inadvertently attracting Terrors and Risen. Even when smoothed down, they would eventually break free of his skin and continue to shift and flap and peck, but for a little while, he could enjoy the stillness.

This moment of peace was rudely interrupted as the ledge gave way under his weight, and he fell onto his wings. Robin heard a clear snap before he felt the sharp pain in his right wing, and he cried out without realizing it. To make matters worse, he heard the sound of footsteps rapidly approaching, and he quickly righted himself, reaching for his knife but only finding empty air. Around the corner, appeared the swordsman, the knight, and the war cleric. The sickening glow of the sword at his side made his skin crawl, and he quickly held out his hands in a sign of peaceful intentions. His heart was racing, and he spluttered out the words, “I mean you no harm! I’m sorry about tripping you, I just have a habit of passing out a lot, it’s not really a habit actually probably more of a health condition, I would get that checked out somewhere but I’ve been stuck here for I don’t know how long I just want to get out of here—“

The swordsman seemed to relax a bit at his rambling—his hand was still on that strange sword though—he held up his other palm and said in a language different from the one he just spoke, “Peace. We have no wish to harm you unless you mean to harm us. I’m afraid I don’t understand what you’re saying, do you speak Ylissean?”

Robin blinked a few times, disbelieving that it was this easy. Ylissean? Was that the language he spoke? Robin knew a few languages but couldn’t remember their names. At times, they seemed to muddle in his head, but he found he could still recall them distinctly. “Uh, yes! I, um, said that I don’t mean you any harm, and I’m sorry about tripping you. It’s umm, a bit of a bad habit …” Robin replied, starting to feel embarrassed.

The man smiled and took his hand off the hilt of his blade. He walked closer and said, “Well, I’m glad to hear that you are no enemy of ours. My name is Chrom, and this is my sister Lissa and our friend Frederick. Tell me, what is your name? What brings you to the Thabes Labyrinth?”

Robin tried to smooth a partially unexpected surge of nerves as he said, “My name… it’s Robin I think… yeah that’s probably it…” Damn it! why did he say it like that?!

“You think?” the man named Frederick said, stepping forward, hand going to his lance.

This startled Robin, and his wings drew forth, bunching up in worry as he spluttered out, “Y-yes! I-I actually don’t remember much of anything other than my name. I can’t even remember the layout of anything here!” Robin gave a nervous laugh that he was sure did nothing to help his case. Hearing his own story out loud made it sound even less believable. He tried to shore up what credibility he could and added, “I believe I have been cursed in both body and mind, unable to find my way out of these halls.”

“Oh! I know what this is called! It’s amnesia!” The cleric (Lissa, was it?) piped up.

“It’s called a load of Pegasus dung,” the knight retorted. “We’re to believe you just happen to be here without cause? You don’t remember why you have so many mutations?”

“B-but it’s the truth! I really don’t remember!” Robin said. He unconsciously shifted his back wings and winced at the pain of his broken one. “Please, I know how flimsy this sounds, but I really don’t mean any harm or remember my past. I just want to get out of this cursed Labyrinth.”

“What if what he’s saying is true, Frederick? We can’t just leave him cursed and down here to rot. What kind of Shepherds would we be?” Chrom came to his defense, and set his hand on his shoulder, standing next to him. Robin felt his face heat up at the proximity.

Frederick however continued to argue. “We’re not in Ylisse, milord. I must emphasize caution. People don’t just wander down these halls on accident nor would they survive this long should something not be afoot. Besides, would we really be able to lift such a curse?”

“Right, you make a fair point, Frederick. Robin, is this truly all you know?” Chrom said. His eyes and demeanor were significantly warmer than the knights’ although he could still feel the air of caution. The pit in Robin’s stomach grew as he processed that this man was a lord, and he was just a strange nobody.

He nodded more shakily than he would’ve liked. “I have other vague memories, my Lord—of a girl, of these twisting halls, of swirling languages, of the dance of magic and blade, and of Terrors—but I’m afraid these are a mixture of dreams, exhaustion, and reality that tell of nothing useful to my situation. But, yes, this is all I know.”

“Very well, Robin, I believe you. You don’t have to use honorifics with me or Lissa, Robin. Just address us as we are.” Chrom said.

This couldn’t be happening, it was too easy! How could this man trust me just like that? Robin thought frantically, trying to unravel any hidden intentions. He realized too late that they were all staring at him, expecting a response. “Um, er, ok, Chrom” Robin said nervously. He was more out of his depth than he previously thought.

It looked like Lissa was about to say something but Frederick asked, “Robin, do you know of the Fell Dragon, Grima?”

“Grima? The Fell Dragon? I think I may have read ‘Grima’ somewhere here… but I don’t recall anything about it. What is that?” Robin replied, somehow managing to keep his cool. Most of the text on walls or in decaying tomes here was fading and near illegible, but he felt like there was a truth to his statement. The tension in the knight’s tone made him want to stay vague about this topic, and he still felt on thin ice despite Chrom’s trust.

“Grima is the Fell Dragon, the god of destruction and father of the Grimleal religion. He is also the god of Plegia, a country just south of here. You’ve truly never heard of him?” Frederick asked, hints of incredulity painting his voice.

 “No, should I?” Robin ventured.

“Perhaps not. You happen to look and dress Plegian, so I assumed so. Your coat has the Grimleal eyes on the sleeves” he replied quickly. Well, that explained some of his distrust. Robin looked down, and sure enough, violet eyes stared back at him from the fabric.

“We’re actually here to slay him! Or, er, technically put him back to sleep, so he doesn’t destroy the world,” Lissa added. “Why don’t you come with us?”

“We can also take you to Ylissetol and see if anything can be done to dispel your curse. There are better places to take a nap than on the ground, you know, and we would be happy to give you a spare bed in an Inn. It would probably be too dangerous for you to be in the castle with our father there,” Chrom added. His hand was still on his shoulder, and his face was close enough to see the warmth in his blue eyes and the way they flittered in the firelight.

“Milord, milady —“ Frederick said, surprised at the invitation.

“That sounds great! Thank you!” Robin said, unintentionally puffing out his wings, as his heart fluttered. He winced again as his broken wing shifted. Chrom and Lissa noticed this with some alarm.

“Let’s get you patched up first. What happened to your wing?” Lissa asked as she approached him, staff in hand.

“I, er, fell and landed on it” Robin replied, somewhat embarrassed again.

Lissa carefully examined it to find the break. Chrom was also curiously looking at it, stroking the softer feathers around the large eye on the wing. He quickly realized the invasion of personal space and apologized, stepping away to let Lissa do her work. Robin was still flustered from this entire encounter but managed to squeak out an “it’s fine!” Lissa smirked for some reason and finished aligning the fractured bones. Her healing magic enveloped him like a warm blanket, the fractures knit together, and the pain eased. Robin sighed in relief and told her, “Thank you.”

Lissa smiled and said, “Yeah, no problem! I get plenty of practice healing these boneheads!”

“H-hey! Lissa!” Chrom said almost petulantly. She snickered at his expression, but made no further attempts at teasing. He seemed to blush as Robin laughed at the jab before regaining composure. He turned to Robin again and asked, “So, I recall you mentioned something of blade and magic before. Can aid us in battle, Robin? Another soldier would be much appreciated.”

Robin felt more at ease and replied, “Yes, I can wield tome and dagger. I had a knife—ah, here it is.” He flutter-jumped over to the dagger and then turned back to the trio. “I would be happy to help.”

Chapter Text

With their new friend in tow, they braved the rest of the Labyrinth. While a harried and panicked fighter, Robin showed some tactical prowess, giving quick, shouted tips to the Ylisseans during battle. Maybe the extra eyes let him see the scope of battle better, or he had tactical training and experience in another life. Whatever it was, Chrom was grateful for the help. He had plenty of experience in battle but was too focused on the blade to think to make much use of terrain and pairing up with others. Encounters were becoming more numerous and deadly as they journeyed down, and even Frederick looked tired. He occasionally saw him giving Robin prolonged stares, still distrusting him.

Robin surprisingly didn’t notice this and to Chrom’s excitement, began to warm up to the party. He took every opportunity to ask them wave after wave of questions—about the world, their lives, etc. Robin learned quickly from their tense tone and clipped words that their father was a sore subject and so, didn’t prod further. They told him about how their family was of royal Exalted blood; what Ylisse, Regna Ferox, and Plegia were like; what the Shepherds were; etc. Robin practically fell over in shock at learning they were royalty, but Chrom and Lissa insisted not to treat them any differently. He could tell Robin felt hesitant but didn’t push him further.

When Chrom showed him his Brand as part of an extended explanation of their quest, the amnesiac stared at it for a good minute and a half, confusion furrowing his brow. He said it didn’t stir up any recollections in his mind, but it did have a certain… aura to it. Chrom shrugged it off as Robin, being more magically inclined, sensing the power the Brand conferred. He was more focused on how he softly touched his shoulder where the Brand was.

A few days later, Lissa was in the middle of explaining all of the great things about frogs—their non-Newtonian spit, their soft tongues, their absurdly long legs, etc.—when they came to a staircase leading down. By Frederick’s calculations, this was the last flight before they would reach the final floor. Lissa trailed off and looked up to Chrom. He took a deep breath and tried to ease his nerves. This was it. He could do this. Lissa, Frederick, and Robin were with him. Together, they descended into the heart of the Labyrinth, weapons glinting in the magical firelight.

They reached a set of double doors bearing the Mark of Grima in what suspiciously looked like blood. With baited breath, Chrom pushed upon the doors. It felt like the air was electrified with tension, and Chrom quietly walked into the chamber, the rest of their party only a step behind them.

It was a large, circular room, lit by blue, magical flames. It looked perhaps much older than the rest of the Labyrinth but of the same architectural style. Sand and chunks of stonework littered the room, and the Mark of Grima was painted on the floor in the same uneasy red pigment. The room was also markedly still and silent; only their breathing and the crackle of flames produced any sound. Chrom jolted around as Robin tapped his shoulder and pointed towards the back of the room. Sitting there, was a large ornate pedestal, probably at least twenty feet across and resting on top of that, was the barren, sharp form of a draconic skeleton. Although, it looked a lot less distorted and eldritch than the legends foretold, this had to be the Fell Dragon. Chrom stepped forward and beckoned the others to follow him towards the table.

“This is it, huh?” Lissa said, breaking the silence.

“It appears so,” Chrom replied. He was really expecting something more, but he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. The Fell Dragon was nothing more than a pile of bones—a husk of terror.

“What are you going to do, Chrom?” Robin asked, staring up at the ancient table.

“Well, smashing it to bit and taking its head seems like all we can do. The real challenge here seems to be figuring out how to get onto this pedestal,” he said with a laugh. The tension that had been building since they left Ylissetol already seemed to be fading. Up close, the table was a lot taller than expected, reaching about thirty feet high. An idea struck him. “Robin, you have wings. You can fly, yes? Could you carry me up there?” he asked turning towards the strange man.

This seemed to startle Robin for some reason, and he shrunk into himself, facial wings moving to try to cover his face again. “I, um, can’t really fly. Both of my wings are right handed, one of them is simply rotated.”

“Oh, ok. We’ll find another way then,” Chrom replied.

Robin’s wings splayed out as he said, “I mean! I can still try! I can use them to jump great distances, just not make sustained flight.” He squinted trying to gauge the distance between the ground and the table. “I can probably get you up there, it just might, er, not be the most graceful thing in the world. That is, if you would still like to attempt this,” Robin hastily said. His facial wings were still opened up, splaying from his face like that of a surprised owls. It was quite a sight, and Chrom hoped he could see it often.

He smiled and said, “Well, let’s give it a try.”

Frederick stepped forward, caution on his tongue. “Milord, I must advise against this. We’ve never seen this man use his wings and falling onto the stonework could prove fatal or concuss you at the very least.”

“Yeah, I’m all for teamwork, but I don’t want you to fall and just fucking die,” Lissa added. “Even I can’t heal a fatal head injury.”

“Language, milady,” Frederick said, reflexively. Lissa stuck her tongue out at him.

Robin smiled at the banter before offering, “I can get up there on my own, and if you deem it too dangerous, we can search for another way.”

“Very well,” Chrom said before Frederick could argue against it.

Robin walked back about thirty feet from the table. He looked nervously toward the party. Maybe he had performance anxiety? Chrom smiled reassuringly, and Robin smiled back before running towards the table. He made his jump about ten feet away and furiously beat his wings, the left-sided one much more than its twin. He easily made it to the top, and Chrom noted with surprise, that the spot from where he had jumped, was caved in slightly, as if he had put a considerable amount of force behind his leap.

“See?” Robin said, head peeking out from behind the ledge. He jumped back down, wings splaying out like a sort of parachute to slow his descent.

His display of unexpected strength didn’t escape Frederick’s watchful eye. He must have accepted that there was no changing Chrom’s mind in the trust he placed in Robin, so he merely said “be careful, milord.” He walked a few yards back close to where Robin started. It would make a good place to throw a spear from, and Lissa joined him. If Robin discerned what Frederick was thinking, he didn’t comment on it. Robin didn’t have any ill intentions and if he was plotting something, it wouldn’t do well to let him know they were on to him.

Robin led Chrom away from the table, and he felt butterflies in his stomach, his nerves racing. Robin was saying something, but it was hard to hear over the blood pounding in his ears. It wasn’t until the amnesiac—with little to no effort-- swept him off his feet, carrying him bridal style, that he was jolted back to reality. He let out a rather undignified yelp as he did so, and he felt his cheeks warm in embarrassment.

“Oh, er, sorry. This just seemed like the best way to carry you…” Robin hastily explained.

“It’s fine! I’m fine! J-just nerves! I’m about to fulfill my ‘Divine Destiny’ after all,” Chrom tried to brush it off, but he felt like he wasn’t doing a very good job. Judging by Robin’s warm smile, he didn’t seem to think less of him for it.

With little warning, Robin broke into a sprint, holding onto Chrom with a rather firm grip. Chrom held onto him for dear life and prayed that he didn’t scream or yelp like before. He managed to keep relatively quiet as Robin jumped and made his hurried ascent to the table. His landing was quite a bit rougher than the previous one, squishing Chrom under him. The winged man quickly rolled over an apology on his lips. “S-sorry! Are you hurt, Chrom?”

“No, I’m quite alright. Thank you, though,” Chrom answered. Under the terrifying surface, the experience had been… actually quite fun. Robin was either a lot stronger than he let on or simply knew. Robin gave him a nervous smile, which he returned in full force.

“Hey! Chrom! Are you alright?” Lissa called from below.

“Yes! Just had a rough landing! I’ll take care of this and then we can be on our way!” Chrom replied. Chrom got up, and held out a hand to Robin, who tried to stifle a yawn. “You’re not going to fall asleep on me, are you?”

Robin took his hand, and the prince pulled him to his feet. He was quite heavier than expected, but perhaps that weight was added from his wings and horns. “Fear not, I’m not going to pass out on you here. I have the chance to witness your divine destiny after all,” Robin replied. This was the calmest and most confident he’d been since they had met him, and it brought a smile to Chrom’s face. He was glad to see the sheepish, cursed man show some confidence outside the battlefield.

Chrom turned, smile still on his face, and unsheathed Exalted Falchion. “I’m afraid it won’t be much of a show for you.” The skeleton was much bigger up close, but posed no threat. The prince took a swing, slicing through the skeleton’s ribcage like water. He made short work of the barren corpse before bringing Falchion down on its neck, severing it from the body. Chrom then drove his sword through its skull and stood for a moment, panting from the flurry of strikes. The skull strangely enough, disintegrated. Just like that, and it was all over. It seemed too easy, too simple, but he was glad for his father’s purpose for him to be over and done with. He took a moment to steady himself before turning to Robin, Lissa, and Frederick. “Well, that’s the end of him,” Chrom said, withdrawing and sheathing his blade.

Robin was staring at him quite intently but turned his gaze before Chrom’s could meet it. As he walked over to him, he turned to face him, saying “It was quite a show, Chrom. Shall we join your sister and Frederick?”

“Yes, better to not keep Frederick waiting. Um, are you going to carry me like that again?” he asked, the butterflies returning to his stomach.

“It’s the easiest way, but if you would prefer not to, I can find another way to carry you,” Robin said, fidgeting slightly.

"Oh no, it’s quite alright, I was just wondering,” he said. Chrom stepped closer to Robin and set his hands on his shoulders, getting ready for the descent. “Shall we, then?”

Strangely, this seemed to startle Robin, but he managed to collect himself after a few seconds of standing, frozenly staring at Chrom. “R-right,” he said and then with Chrom in his arms, he made the leap down. It was just as exhilarating but less scary than the ascent, and Robin’s landing was much smoother. He only set him down for a moment before Lissa rushed in for a hug.

“Chromgratulations, bro!” she said, squeezing the breath out of him. “You did it! I knew you could! You achieved your Divine Destiny’s, and now it’s over and down with!”

“T-thanks, Lissa! Please… let me go… can’t breathe!” Chrom wheezed out. Lissa released her hold on him, but her smile still lit up her face. He returned it, and despite the anticlimactic end, he truly began to feel just how much weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “Thank you Lissa, I never would have been able to make this journey or get this far in life without you. Thank you too, Frederick. As loathe as I am to admit it, your watchful eye has saved my hide on many occasions. Oh, and thank you Robin. I know we only met a few days ago, but I already consider you my friend.”

Lissa accepted his thanks and promised that she would lay off the frogs for just a bit. Frederick simply nodded, saying it was but his knightly duty. Robin nodded silently, still flustered for some reason.

“We can celebrate more after we leave. We still have a considerable journey out of this Labyrinth,” Frederick said, always the voice of reason.

Robin’s wings shifted as he said, “Oh, wait, I’ve been meaning to ask you. How do you keep track of the layout here?”

“We don’t,” Chrom responded.

This seemed to create panic in him, and he asked, anxiety clear in his voice, “Then how do you know where the exit is? How are we going to get out of here?”

“The Labyrinth is underground, so we just have to keep going up,” Lissa replied. “It’s a tried and true strategy for this place.”

Chrom could practically see the gears turning in the shorter man’s head as his brow furrowed. “Oh… that actually makes a lot of sense. Why did I never think about that before?”

The ascent out of the Labyrinth was surprisingly easy. Their morale was stronger, and they had already cleaned out a majority of Terrors and Risen in their descent. It wasn’t long before they reached the surface, in time for the desert sunset. Robin marveled out how easy it was to leave. He felt like he had spent countless hours? days? years? wandering the labyrinth, instantly forgetting where he had come from as soon as he turned the corner. It was a hellish dream, but now it was over. He smiled as they watched the sunset, reveling in the feeling of sunlight and wind. He was finally free!

Robin turned toward his newfound companions to express his gratitude. “Thank you all so much. As embarrassing as it is to admit, I don’t think I would have been able to leave without your help. I am indebted to you.” He gave a small bow, and when he had righted himself, he saw Lissa smiling at him warmly, Frederick looked impassive as expected, and Chrom smiled broadly as well. The sight made heat rush to his cheeks.

“It was no problem, friend.” Chrom replied. “You were a great help and are quite tactically skilled.” Robin unconsciously moved to cover his face with his wings at the praise, and Chrom chuckled lightly at this gesture. “Now, let’s make camp, shall we? We have an extra tent you can use. We still have another leg of the journey ahead of us”

They made camp quickly, and as tired as Robin was, he couldn’t fall asleep. Thoughts plagued him like a swarm of locusts and when he did manage to drift off, unsettling dreams—visions of Chrom’s nauseating sword and the bones of that long dead dragon-- broke through the surface of his mind.

To make matters worse, when he had removed his vambraces before settling down, he found that the back of his right hand was horribly scarred, and a mark reminiscent of Chrom’s Brand was burned into his skin. He was so tired he wanted to just ignore it, but sleep continued to evade him, and he was forced to be alone with his thoughts. The mark was clearly a brand of some sort they would punish heretics or criminals with. It spoke ill of his past and suggested he was—or perhaps been—Grimleal. Maybe he would speak of this with his new friends in the morning, but he worried that this would only create distrust between them. Chrom and Lissa seemed to be fine with his no-doubt suspicious story, but Frederick was no less cold and wary of him. For now, he would keep it secret.

The idea of his past and what led him to be cursed created a pit in his stomach. Who had he been? Why had he been cursed? Had anyone ever searched for him? Had they even known where to look or had they perished in the Labyrinth? Who was that girl he saw in the shadows of sleep? What would happen if he did regain his memories? What if he was a radically different person than he was now? Would the weight of 20 years (was he that old?) of flooding memories wash away his present self? His mind could only wander until exhaustion finally started to tug at his eyelids.

 Sighing to himself, Robin blew out the candle and made another attempt at sleep. He got what rest he could but found little peace. His dreams were plagued by mobs of people surrounding him, only the glint of their steel lighting the darkness. Robin tried to get away, but his limbs felt like they were made of lead. It wasn’t long before he tripped, landing face first in the mud. The last thing he saw before he woke was the searing glow of a blade.

Over the next few days of their journey, Robin didn’t mention his night terrors to his newfound friends and instead, said that he was simply unused to sleeping with the noise the outside world had. Fortunately, no one called his bluff, and they continued their journey to the capital. He worried the truth would increase their (or at least Frederick’s) suspicions of him, and he couldn’t help but feel embarrassed that mere nightmares were robbing him of so much sleep. Besides, he had the right to keep personal things to himself, however few he had.

Robin enjoyed their company and learning about this strange world he had walked into. Robin couldn’t help but smile at Lissa’s antics and Chrom’s vibrant storytelling and even Frederick’s dry but witty remarks. The longer he was around him, the more Robin realized that he did in fact have a massive crush on prince Chrom. He was so confident and kind and strong… it was distracting, and he was afraid he would make himself look like a fool or gods forbid—betray his feelings to the prince. It felt much too early in their friendship for such a thing to be known, and it wasn’t like Chrom would ever return his feelings or such a courtship would ever work out.

A few nights later, Robin decided to take a walk as a brief respite from his nightmares. He walked away from camp for a few minutes only to find Chrom in a field, swinging around that sickening sword (Falchion, he called it). The craftsmanship of the blade was nothing to scoff at, but something about the way it cut through stone like water and its searing glow put Robin on edge. Did everyone feel this way or was it perhaps his vague background as a Grimleal that turned his stomach?

He tried not to think about it, instead focusing on Chrom, which was very easy to. The prince was practicing sword drills, and while his technique was strange to him, it had a mesmerizing fluidity to it. As far as he knew, anyway. Robin never felt keen to pick up the sword or remembered anything about using the sword, and the Risen he had encountered fought with a rather uniform, calculated, and almost rigid style. Chrom put the force of his entire body into his strikes, dealing rapid blows and recovering all as if it were as simple as breathing.

Robin wished he had more of an opportunity to watch him fight, but he was quite focused on not dying in their battles underground. Robin couldn’t recall many details or facts about combat other than the gestures and movements ingrained into his muscle memory from a forgotten life or the processes and techniques he had observed countless times in the Labyrinth. When in battle, his ability to fight felt pulled out of him as he entered a frenzied dance. His brain went on autopilot, and he reacted more than chose when dodging and landing blows. He was much more comfortable in the strategical aspect of battle. In the fray, he suddenly saw openings in enemy forms, terrain advantages, and tactical matchups as if they were simply the colors that painted the world.

“Robin?” Chrom’s voice called across the field. It startled him, and he jumped, feeling embarrassed and a bit ashamed that he had been caught staring and spying. Chrom walked up to him, thankfully sheathing the foul blade. “Is something wrong?”

Your blade is a wretched creation.

The words formed in his mind and disappeared before he can even react. Robin tried to push down his nerves before responding, “Um, nothing. The camp’s fine. I just couldn’t sleep.”

Chrom smiled one of his easy, laid back grins. “Same here. Dueling with unpleasant thoughts.” He put his hand on his shoulder and asked, “What’s on your mind, Robin?”

Robin stared into his blue eyes, which shone in the moonlight. They were warm, and Robin couldn’t help but feel more at ease. He couldn’t bring himself to lie with Chrom’s hand on his shoulder and that friendly gaze meeting his own. Before he knew it, he blurted out his thoughts. “I’ve been having strange nightmares that I can barely recollect when I awaken from their grasp.” Robin started to fidget with his coat, waiting to see if judgement seeped into Chrom’s expression. But it didn’t, and he nodded to him, urging him to continue his thought. Still fidgeting, Robin began again. “I’m always worried about who I am, or, er, was. I’m concerned that the nightmares were memories of some sort, but they’re too fantastical to be reality.”

“Well, past or not, you’ve helped us a lot already, and I can see you’re a good man,” Chrom said firmly.

“Thanks, Chrom,” Robin said turning away. “I hope that my past isn’t as checkered as I fear.”

“Whatever it was, you can leave it behind if you so wish,” he said reassuringly. A long silence drew out between them before Chrom spoke again. “Did you have such dreams in the Labyrinth?”

“No, not any I can recall. It’s possible that that was part of the curse. I still have quite a bit of difficulty grasping my bearings, so it is possible I have been subject to multiple curses.” Robin laughed wryly.

“I promise you, Robin, that I will do my best to see you freed from these curses,” Chrom said, squeezing his shoulder.

Robin felt warmth rush to his cheeks and shifted his facial wings slightly. “Why would you do that?” The words tumbled out before he could stop himself. Maybe it’s the exhaustion from his restless nights or maybe it’s the fluttering in his chest that pushed him to speak his mind.

“Do what?” Chrom asked, perplexed.

“Help me,” Robin said, voice coming out strained and wavering. He was already regretting this conversation, but he had a feeling there was little he could do to steer it from its present course. As he had grown closer to the prince, he grew more… concerned for his lack of caution.

“Well… because you were lost, cursed, and alone?” Chrom replied, still apparently confused at where this conversation was heading.

Robin frowned. “That’s it? You simply pitied me?”

“Isn’t that enough?” Chrom asked. He withdrew his hand from his shoulder, crossing his arms in a defensive position.

Robin tried to not let that loss of warmth get to him as much as it did and continued. “Did you not stop to consider I might have wanted you dead? I could’ve been a Terror hiding under a humanlike form or some sort of vengeful Grimleal. I could’ve easily killed you several times.” The prince couldn’t be that naïve could he?

Chrom laughed, “Heh, that’s what I have Frederick for. And you didn’t. I’m alive and breathing, and you’re free.”

Robin continued frowning. His thoughts were starting to spiral. “But, you’re the leader of a militia and have family and royal responsibilities. You have obligations larger than yourself, why did you risk throwing it all away to help a stranger? Why didn’t— “

Chrom uncrossed his arms to place them on both the shorter man’s shoulders. “Look, Robin. If I see someone hurt in need, I’m going to help them. That’s just who I am, and there’s no changing it. Or would you rather I’d left you there, wandering Risen infested halls with only your name to bear?”

Robin felt his heart race at the contact. This is not the time for that now, Robin! He began to fidget again before looking the prince in the eye. “No, of course not. I’m thankful for what you did, I truly am. But it scares me all the same. Chivalry and longevity don’t often go hand in hand.”

Chrom put his hands on his hips, a hint of cheer back in his voice. “Ha! I wish I had a gold coin every time I got this lecture.”

“I’m afraid I can only offer advice. You should really be more careful in the future. You killed a country’s god.” Robin puffed out his wings to try to give himself more presence and stood on his tiptoes in a futile attempt to close the height difference between them. “You may not realize it now, but that is going to put quite a target on your head, Chrom. I don’t want—“ to lose you, Robin thankfully caught himself and instead stuttered out, “—you to die by a vengeful Grimleal who happens to be a passable liar.”

Chrom tried to appear unfazed, but Robin could see the traces of a blush color his face, partially hidden by the night and less visible on his brown skin. “To be far, Grima was already dead. I appreciate your concern, but I am well aware of this Robin, and I’m sorry but no. If it happened again today, I’d do the same exact thing.” He stood firm, crossing his arms again.

“But—“

Chrom cut him off again. “Peace, Robin. I have heard your counsel, and I know you mean well. But as I said, this is who I am. I can’t change that, nor would I want to.” There was something hard in his eyes, an aloof determination and annoyance at Robin’s insistence to change him.

Robin felt that this was going nowhere and only upsetting both of them. He briefly rocked on his heels as he stopped standing on his toes. “I—I understand. If that is your decision, then so be it. Just do try and be careful, Chrom.” Robin crossed his arms and looked away, trying to shrink into himself in his defeat. He turned back, shyly meeting his eyes, “For my peace of mind, if not your own?”

Chrom reached out to brush his hair out of his face, and maybe it was Robin’s sleep deprived imagination, but he felt like he was contemplating holding his palm to his face. “I will. I promise.” Chrom said, voice regaining some of its previous warmth.

“Thank you,” Robin said before unceremoniously yawning.

Chrom chuckled at this, and Robin smiled at the sound. “We should get what rest we can. Tomorrow will be a long march.”

Robin nodded sleepily and followed him back to camp. He flopped onto his bedroll and let sleep take him where it wished.

Chapter Text

Their travels through Regna Ferox were uneventful. Days’ worth of walking and camping at night blended into each other easily, and Lissa and Chrom warmed up to Robin even further. Robin enjoyed drinking in all the sights of life around him, even though the indeterminate amount of time he spent underground left his eyes very sensitive to light.

They became fast friends, Chrom admiring Robin’s curious nature and sharp wit, and Robin seemingly loving every second of conversation with Chrom. Lissa found great fun in telling Robin obvious falsehoods and exaggerations about various animals, and Chrom couldn’t help but indulge her and see how long they could last. So far, they had told Robin that frog skin gave you new allergies, cats would lead you to water, chickens—if held for eight hours—would confer peaceful dreams, and multicolored birds were agents of Grima. He seemed none the wiser and hung on their every word.

Frederick had been watching him, searching for signs cracks in his supposed persona. Robin had proven to either be biding his time for a long con or was, as he said, meant them no harm. However, his growing friendship with the prince and princess worried Frederick to no end. They barely knew anything about this strange man and yet saw no need for caution around him. He noted with some mirth that in a very Chrom-like fashion, his liege had become quite close with the greatest source of danger near him—trusting to a fault. Lecturing the siblings about caution had long ago proven to be a pointless task, so as per usual, Frederick took up enough wariness for the three of them.

One morning, as they continued their trek to the Ylissean border, Frederick noticed Robin was an exhausted mess, dark bags hanging under his eyes. It wasn’t an unusual sight, and a few times while on watch, Frederick had watched his tent all night and saw nothing unusual other than him staying up perhaps a little too late. He wanted to know why. However, it wouldn’t do well to show Robin he was still this suspicious of him (or at least to this degree). Worst case, it would alert the supposedly cursed man that he was still being watched closely and prompt him to hide and disguise any possible schemes. At best, it could sour their already hesitant friendship. With Chrom quickly growing very friendly with this man, there was no doubt that Frederick would end up spending copious amounts of time with him as well.

As Robin finished his breakfast, Frederick decided to approach him. “How did you sleep, Robin?” he asked.

Robin yawned, slowly turning away from the sunrise to meet Frederick’s gaze. “I could barely get any rest. The frogs and bugs keep waking me up.” He rubbed his hands against the eyes as if to erase how tired he felt. “How did you sleep, Frederick?”

Frederick stared intently but couldn’t detect a lie from him. He replied, “Very well, thank you. I can rest easier knowing the hardest part of our journey is over, and that milord and milady have a greater peace of mind.”

“Yes, I can imagine so.” Robin said, smiling. He held Frederick’s gaze for a few seconds before turning back to the sunrise. Robin’s light sensitivity had begun to fade and so, he no longer covered his face quite as much with his wings.

Frederick could see it gently illuminated by the morning light. Apart from the mutations, he looked quite ordinary, if a bit unusual. Most Plegians didn’t have white hair and monolids. But the rest of his eyes, now that was something strange. His irises were red, and his pupils were simply vertical slits. Even though Robin didn’t hold any malice in his rusty gaze, the sight sent chills down Frederick’s spine. Before he could ponder it further, Robin said “The sunrise is quite beautiful. I’m afraid I had forgotten what it looked like.”

Robin folded his arms close, trying to block out the chill. He was wearing his thin coat, but perhaps for the first time since they’ve met, not his gloves. Frederick’s eyes widened as he saw the twisted and bumpy texture of a burn scar on his right hand peak out from his sleeve. It didn’t look fresh, but it did look quite severe.

“Have you seen to that burn?” Frederick inquired. This startled Robin out of his reverie, his wings involuntarily unfolding in surprise. He quickly looked down and brought his right hand to his chest, covering it with his left.

“It’s an old injury. It’s fine now,” Robin explained quickly. He stood up and excused himself, “I’m going to pack up my tent. You said we have a long way to walk before we reach Ylisse tonight, yes?”

“I did,” Frederick replied, his suspicions raised further. He watched Robin all but run back to his tent. While he was clearly a poor liar and thus unlikely to be an assassin or thief (or conversely, a rather bold one), there was something about him that Robin deemed worthy of hiding, and Frederick intended to find out what and why.

As they neared the Ylissian-Feroxi border, Chrom was trying to think of more ways to involve Robin in conversation. He rarely talked at length when not asking questions, and he knew better than to bring up his nightmares or worries in front of the others without asking first. He was without memory save for a hellish maze. Robin was skilled with magic and that dagger, maybe he could talk about those.

“So, Robin,” Chrom began. Robin turned to face him, wings folded up neatly along the sides of his face. It was one of the few times he had seen his face in good lighting, the majority of it exposed. His eyes shone in the light, reminding him of the rose bushes in the palace gardens. His lips looked soft and they curved upwards into an easy smile.

“Yes, Chrom?” Robin said, voice filling the air like a song.

Chrom’s mind briefly froze as he struggled to remember what he was going to ask Robin. Conversation…. Something about conversation, oh right! Magic! “Er, so, um, how does magic work?” Chrom spluttered out, much less dignified than he had hoped.

“In general or through tomes?” Robin asked. He smiled at Chrom’s sudden awkwardness, and as much as he liked to look at that warm expression, Chrom feared for his composure.

“Tomes! I’ve always wondered how a book could produce such power.”

“Oh, well it’s not so much the book as what’s written on the page.” Robin began, gesturing excitedly. “The runes and symbols are conduits for magic. It must be done with some sort of specialized ink because whenever I’ve tried copying them myself, nothing happens. With a proper gesture to channel the magical energy, one can pull the runes into the air and efficiently focus the abundant surrounding magic through them. The magic will coalesce into whatever form the runes dictate, and all it takes is to aim it well enough to hit a target. Or at least that’s what I’ve been doing for the past who knows how many years.

I’ve found that channeling destructive magic without a tome is quite difficult and can do little else except annoy foes. Most of the tomes I’ve scavenged just have the same scripts and symbols on nearly every page. I would love to learn more about the script and casting mechanisms. Channeling magic is as fascinating as it is exhilarating. Was that an adequate explanation, Chrom?” Robin smiled a little more sheepishly, but was still beaming. Chrom was glad Robin could talk about something that interested him.

“Yes, thank you, Robin. I think I understand.” Chrom replied. Another idea popped into his head. “Do you think you could show me more, um outside of battle?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know as much as I’d like, but I’d be happy to.” Robin said, smiling again, more confidently. Chrom felt his heart fluttering in his chest as he returned that smile. Gods, what was going on? Why did he feel so… shivery around this man he met only a few weeks ago? It didn’t feel bad of course! Just confusing. Maybe it was because of his unearthly countenance or his mysterious origins. He was certainly curious about his past even if Robin himself was concerned about it. Perhaps Robin had been a librarian of a great magical library or a holy mage--

“Chrom, look! The town!” Lissa called out. Chrom quickly snapped out of his thoughts and into focus. Smoke billowed into the sky from the nearby town, and the tongues of flame rose from its buildings. Screams broke through the distance.

“Damn it! Brigands! Come on, everyone, quickly!” Chrom said, running towards the settlement. Lissa quickly followed after him. After a few strides, he heard a small yelp behind him. Chrom turned his head to see Frederick pulling a startled Robin onto his horse. Apparently the Plegian wasn’t fast enough for his liking.

They reached town shortly. As expected, brigands were looting and setting fire to the town. The four of them were outnumbered and possibly outmatched. It was hard for Chrom to tell. Across the square, he saw a woman running from a berserker, and others looting shops. They had to deal with this quickly.

“Milord, do you have a plan?” Frederick asked, letting Robin grip his hand to help him with dismounting. The smaller man pulled out a tome and drew his knife once on the ground. Lissa and Frederick had already pulled out their weapons.

Chrom unsheathed his sword, gripping its hilt anxiously. With the current situation, things wouldn’t go well if they charged right in. They wouldn’t be any help if they were dead. They had to be careful here, but they also had to be fast….

“Chrom, we have to stop them! Quickly!” Lissa cried out when Chrom continued to stand, frozen. He wished he had more Shepherds here and possibly Miriel to help assess the situation.

“Um, if I may,” Robin started. Chrom whipped around to him and nodded to him to continue. “Most of these brigands at the front are wielding swords, so it would be advantageous for Frederick to lead the charge towards that monument.” Robin pointed to a statue on a long rectangular pedestal. “You can take up the rear while Lissa and I pick off any brigands that escape Frederick and give him cover.”

The statue can provide us somewhat substantial cover to heal and regroup as the rest of their forces realize we’re here. Hopefully our presence will also distract the brigands up ahead and give the woman a chance to escape and hide. Their leader appears to be there as well. You and I can go up ahead to deal with the axe wielders and their leader, while Lissa and Frederick hold here. We all have concoctions, so Lissa, healing won’t be as urgent of a priority. If you find openings, I’m sure we would all appreciate an extra axe in a brigand.”

“That’s… brilliant, Robin!” Chrom said with relief. Robin had given them advice in the Labyrinth but nothing this complex. Although, there hadn’t been much danger and high stakes in their skirmishes with rotting corpses underground. Frederick seemed relieved as well, and surprisingly, didn’t seem to have the glinting hint of disapproval in his eyes. He turned to him and Lissa, “understand the plan?”

Frederick nodded, and Lissa said “Yeah! Robin! Let’s go!” as she readjusted her grip on her staff.

They quickly got into formation, heading towards the monument. Just as Robin predicted, they drew nearly all the brigand’s attention away from the woman and towards themselves. Frederick charged through the brigands, doing his best to weave through them. Robin’s magic and Lissa’s axe throws provided some cover for him, but it wasn’t long before a sword found its way through the cracks in his mount’s armor. Frederick was forced to dismount, but they made it to the statue. Chrom did his best to fend off and kill the brigands coming up from the rear, earning himself more cuts and gashes than he would’ve liked. Lissa was already healing the other two when Chrom met back up with them.

“You, ok, Chrom?” Lissa asked, staff in hand.

“I’m holding up. How are you faring?” Chrom said as Lissa’s healing began to numb the pain.

“I’m fine. Frederick took most of the hits. He won’t be riding Maisy for a few days though.”

“That’s unfortunate,” Chrom said, wincing. He didn’t need to see Frederick’s face to know the concerned expression he was probably making now.

Robin turned to Chrom, tome and knife in hand. “Are you ready for the second phase, Chrom?”

“Yes, let’s go.” Chrom replied, following Robin from out behind the statue.

“Be careful and good luck to you both,” Frederick said.

“Thank you, we will,” Robin replied.

The push forward proved itself to be quick and deadly. Chrom found he could easily evade most swings from the brigands, but there was considerable force behind each one, cracking the stone cobble beneath him. He could see Robin forgoing the use of his knife, instead, blasting back brigands with concussive shots of lightning and doing his best to avoid their swings. Chrom continued to duck under and away from swings and then striking berserkers. He had felled his eighth when he heard Robin scream. He quickly turned to the mage to see him clutching his left arm, blood rushing out of a gash. The berserker was using Robin’s recoiling to prepare for another strike, raising his axe up.

Chrom rushed in, swinging at the berserker’s exposed chest and then quickly stabbing through his ribcage. The man fell, choking on his own blood. Robin stood shakily trying to catch his breath. The wound was deep and the pale horror of bone peeked out. Chrom grimaced as he realized they were quite a ways from Lissa who was also out of Physics staves. “Are you alright, Robin?” Chrom asked, turning his attention to the shorter man.

“Y-yeah. I got too confident.” Robin looked up at him, and Chrom could see the barely concealed pain as he clutched at his arm, trying and failing to use the torn fabric of his sleeve to slow the bleeding. Chrom tore out a strip of fabric from his cape and started to wrap his arm. “Chrom, I’ll be fine, this will be over soon. We’re almost to their lead—CHROM!”

Robin pushed him a good fifteen feet and then rolled away himself, blasting the brigand who tried to come up behind Chrom. The man fell, but Chrom was now on his back, and another brigand was already bringing down the axe on him.

Chrom stared up as he saw the axe and tried to roll away. Fear ran through his veins like ice. He knew he wouldn’t be fast enough to avoid the blow.

I’m sorry, everyone. Leave me, finish the mission, if you can.

“Over here, chump!”

A brash voice pierced the air as a lance was driven through the brigand’s back. He fell to reveal, Sully, maroon armor and steel lance gleaming.

“I sure picked a hell of a time to find you, Chrom,” she said as she turned on horseback, switching to her sword to deal with a charging warrior.

“Th-thanks, Sully,” Chrom said, getting up shakily. His fear quickly turned to a chaotic adrenaline rush.

She smiled lopsidedly and said, “Don’t mention it, I know you’d do the same for me. Do ya have a plan this time?”

“Robin actually came up with one,” he said, gesturing towards the man. He was momentarily stunned, a look of horror and fear still etched on his face from watching Chrom nearly die. He quickly ran up to the two, clutching his scavenged tome with his good arm. “We found him cursed in the Labyrinth, I’ll explain more later.”

“We’re going to keep pushing through to the leader,” Robin said before taking out another berserker. “I’ll take out those knights, so you can reach him,” he said pointing to them.

“Gotcha. You better not leave out any details from your freaking divine quest, Chrom. Now let’s get going before I have to save your ass again,” Sully said before charging into the fray.

“Right, I’ll be sure to return the favor if the moment ever comes,” Chrom replied.

The booming crack of Robin’s magic signaled the beginning of the end for the brigands. With their opening now made, Sully and Chrom charged through, slashing their way through the last of the band. They caught the leader by surprise and made short work of him. The party slowly regrouped when the dust had settled, and met with the town officials, exhaustion beginning to settle in. Apparently, the threats of brigands around the borders were growing day by day. The town could recuperate on their own, and the people thanked them for their help, although the party declined staying for the night in favor of continuing towards the capital.

Lissa took care of the worst of their wounds and made good use of the medical supplies the townspeople offered. Most of their injuries were minor, but Chrom needed to be patched up quite a bit, and Robin’s arm needed stitches and a cast for the next few days at least. His bird arms weren’t too happy about it, but he reassured them, they and he would be fine. Lissa and Frederick attended to Maisy, while the others talked.

“Well, that was a hell of a fight,” Sully remarked, twirling her lance a few times before resting it across her shoulders.

“Quite unexpected too,” Chrom agreed. “We were just on our way to Ylissetol when we saw the town in flames.”

“Good thing you had someone with a brain for strategy!” Sully said, clapping her hand on Robin’s shoulder. “The name’s Sully! I’m a knight and one of the Shepherds. Chrom and I have been friends since we were kids hitting each other with sticks.”

Robin smiled and said “I’m Robin, but, er, you already knew that.”

“It’s nice to meet ya all the same,” she said, shaking his hand with her usual deathgrip. She leaned closer, examining his face and wings and said “Damn, Chrom wasn’t kidding when he said you were cursed. Are you a new recruit or somethin’?”

“Nice to meet you as well,” he said, wincing from her handshake. “Yes, the curse is quite perplexing. Chrom, Lissa, and Frederick actually rescued me from the Labyrinth, and they’re taking me to Ylissetol to see if someone can help me.”

“You should ask our mage Miriel to take a look at you. If anyone can figure out what’s going on, she can,” Sully suggested. “I’m sure she’d also like to talk strategy with you. She’s our stand in tactician until Chrom finds a full time one, but she’s always putting tactical studies on the back burner in between all the other crap she’s looking at.”

“Actually, Robin,” Chrom spoke up, “I don’t know what plans you have after we can resolve your curse situation, but would you be interested in being the Shepherd’s tactician?” By the way his wings splayed, Chrom guessed this shocked Robin.

“Yeah! You’re leagues better at tactics than Chrom and Miriel are!” Lissa piped up.

“Milord, character and skill aside, his story is still flimsy at best,” Frederick interjected. Chrom saw Robin tried to shrink into himself at Frederick’s skepticism.

“I believe his story and that he’s a good man,” Chrom explained. “He fought for Ylissean lives, and his strategy certainly saved more than we could alone. If what the townspeople say is true, we will have more brigands looking to bloody our soil. Would you really have us loose such an able tactician in such a time?”

“Very well, milord,” Frederick said.

“Th-thank you, Chrom,” Robin said.

“So how about it? Will you join us, Robin?” Chrom asked.

“We’d be glad to have ya,” Sully added.

“Yeah, especially Chrom!” Lissa added with a sly smile. He really needed to ask why she’s been doing stuff like that this entire return trip. Her comment seemed to make Robin a little nervous.

“I would be honored,” Robin said.

Sully clapped him on the back, between his wings, yelling “Welcome to the Shepherds!”

After restocking some of their supplies, the Shepherds made their way out of town and towards the capital. It would be about a week before they arrived, and both Maisy and Robin should recover by then. Frederick was a little dourer with Maisy hurt, and Lissa and Robin had to reassure Chrom more than a few times that his arm will be fine.

In a break in their conversation, Sully said, “I’m so glad to see you all. The barracks haven’t been the same without you.”

“That reminds me,” Chrom started, “You said you were looking for us? Has something happened in the capital? Is Em alright?” Worry started to creep into his voice, and he could see Lissa anxiously clutch her staff out of the corner of his eye.

“Oh yeah! Don’t worry, Em’s fine. I came to find you to let ya know that your old man’s off to Valm.”

“What?” Lissa, Chrom, and Frederick said in unison.

“Yeah, King Validar’s spies reported some ‘great conqueror’ has plans to invade the continent, so he, your old man, and Kahn Basilio with their armies are on their way to stop them before they get here. Em’s back in charge, and we’re holding the fort down until they get back.”

Chapter Text

“I think we’re lost Eliza.”

“No, I’m sure this is where the path was. We just need to reoriente ourselves again.”

“Sweetie, that’s the fifth time you’ve said that,” Circe said with a sigh. “Let’s take a rest, and then rethink a plan.” She felt fatigue ache in her bones, and the grime clinging to her clothes and skin didn’t help either. They’d been lost in this thrice godsdamned forest for a few days, and Circe was frankly sick of it.

“Ok, Circe, you’re right, rest would do us some good,” Eliza said, rubbing her eyes, careful not to cut herself on the smattering of sharp emerald scales across her cheeks. She smiled at her wife fondly. She took her hand and asked, “Where do you want to set up camp, my love?”

“Somewhere with a view,” Circe replied, gesturing towards breaks in the canopy and up at the stars that were peaking past the fringes of dusk.

They made their camp quickly. Life as merchants without a fast caravan often meant having to stop between towns, and camping became as familiar to them as the painted sky overhead. It was far from an idyllic lifestyle, but there was something exhilarating about traveling the continent and beyond with the one she loved. Eliza had lived this as long as she could remember, so perhaps it wasn’t as a novel experience to her. Maybe being settled in one place was for Eliza what traveling was for her. When they had finished eating the rations they packed and finally laid down, Circe decided to broach the question.

“So, Eliza,” she began.

“Yes, dear?” Eliza turned her head to face her and took her hand. They had done this a thousand times, but Circe still felt that comforting warmth in her heart.

“Do you want to keep traveling? Like, going on these long expeditions?”

“Well, I certainly don’t dislike them. It’s hard for me to imagine a stationary life—not that I wouldn’t want one!” Eliza quickly corrected. “I just get restless sometimes, and I do quite like traveling, it’s how I met you.” She smiled warmly, bring Circe’s hand to her lips for a kiss. Circe smiled, and Eliza returned it in full force, her eyes crinkling, and their ruby color dancing in the firelight.

She fondly recalled the memory of seeing the dragonblooded merchant at Thabes’ town square, hocking vials of herbs and remedies from Valentia. She had never left Thabes before and quickly fell head over heels for the energetic merchant and her tales of far-off wonders. When she eloped to avoid conscription, and they gallivanted across Archanaea, much of the excitement of travel faded, but her love only grew stronger. One night under the stars, Eliza drew her in for a kiss (to which she returned despite being very flustered) and was very surprised to hear that Circe didn’t realize or notice Eliza’s returning affections. They had decided to keep travelling together long after conscription had ended in Thabes. Circe wanted to help Eliza search for draconic family and despite her best efforts and magical prowess, their attempts came up empty. Which brought her to her next question.

“Do you still want to keep searching for your family?”

Eliza seemed a bit surprised at the question. “I already have a family dear.”

As warm as that answer made her feel, Circe wasn’t satisfied. “Don’t you still wonder though? Isn’t that why we went to Wyvern Valley?”

“I won’t deny that I still would like to meet them, but,” Eliza sighed, “I’ve accepted that I’m probably not going to find them. They might be dead or they might have no interest in a bastard child of a bastard child. But,” she brought Circe’s hand to her chest. “I’m not going to let that sorrow rule my life. I have you, and we have Robbi. I would rather spend my time with you and Robbi than searching for a family that’s never been in my life and may never be.”

“I’m glad you’ve made your peace, Eliza, and that I could support you through it.”

“I am as well. I love you Circe.”

“I love you too, Eliza,” Circe replied. A question still lingered in her mind, however. “But, if I may ask, why did we go to Wyvern Valley?”

“Well, I already gave you the gift, so there’s no spoiling any of the surprise if I tell you now,” Eliza began. “I wanted to go to Wyvern Valley because there’s an artist there who makes those carved chess sets I know you like, and I wanted to get one for your birthday, especially since Robbi has acquired an interest in the game. I was praying that you wouldn’t question the large box I acquired after I left, and the gods must have answered because I don’t think you even noticed it!” she said with a laugh.

“You’re too kind, my dear,” Circe said smiling, pulling Eliza’s free hand to her chest.

“Anything for you and Robbi, my love,” she said, as Circe closed her eyes in contentment. “Speaking of whom, I was thinking….”

Circe opened her eyes and cautiously asked, “What about them?”

“Well, they’re going to turn fourteen soon, and since we still can’t stay home for very long, I was thinking about the idea of bringing them with us, just for a short trip to see how they like it. I feel bad for just leaving them with your brother for weeks at a time for the past year,” Eliza explained. “What do you think?”

“It is a very lovely idea. I would love to have more family time, but we should bring this up with them before making any concrete plans,” Circe replied.

“Of course, dear. I can’t imagine they wouldn’t want to though. You’ve seen the look in their eyes when we tell our stories,” Eliza said, reminiscing.

Circe chuckled, “I do. I don’t think we should tell Forneus though, until Robbi’s made their decision.”

“So you’ve finally seen what I’m saying?” Eliza said, letting go of one of Circe’s hands to rise up on her elbow.

Circe sat up and sighed. “Well, I don’t quite believe your accusations of him being The Worst Person in the World, but I have seen the way he can get around Robbi. They’re not his child, and just because he doesn’t have friends doesn’t mean Robin shouldn’t either. I know I wasn’t there for my brother when I should’ve been, but that doesn’t give him the right to isolate Robbi with his lab work. They’re a kid for gods’ sake! They should be allowed to play with their friends in the park. Forneus can do his work by himself, that’s what the Senate’s paying him to do.” Circe retracted her other hand, rubbing her eyes with a sigh. “I’m grateful for his recent financial support, but I know how single-minded and selfish he can be at times.”

Eliza sat up and scooched closer to her, resting her hand on her cheek. “I can talk to Forneus if you wish. This is just a rough patch. Everything will work out, I’m sure of it.”

“Thank you, Eliza. I pray so.” She yawned, and said “it’s getting rather late. We need our rest if your stalwart directions are going to get us home, sweetie.” Circe got up, pulling Eliza with her.

As they entered their tent, Eliza laughed and said, “You’ve seen how great my sense of direction is. This place is just weird.”

“Of course, love,” Circe said with a sleepy smile.

It had been approximately two and a half weeks since they found their way in this accursed forest. Something in them felt off for a while, but neither could put their finger on it and just chalked it up to the strangeness of the forest. There were plenty of streams and game to prevent them from going hungry, but their worry quickly grew.

They weren’t in a rush to return home, but Circe was determined to rebuild her relationship with her brother Forneus and so didn’t want to leave him thinking they were dead. She had a suspicion that Eliza was just getting annoyed with this fucking forest and cared as little for her brother as she always had. They both believed he had to move on from his obsession with the Age of Gods but while Circe approached him with empathy—being abandoned by the one you worshipped must have been hard--, Eliza simply saw him as stuck, clinging to hope and creating wretched things in his lab.

They were about to set up camp once again, hoping for a better start tomorrow, when a voice broke through their despair.

“Are you lost?”

They both whipped around to see a red haired woman—possibly another merchant from her clothing and large pack.

Eliza was silent and stunned, and when it was clear that she was still processing the sight of another person in this hell-scape, Circe responded. “Um, yeah we actually are. Do you know how to get out of here?” She was past the point of caring and let her desperation show in her voice.

“Yes, I pass through here all the time! My name’s Anna,” she said with a smile. “I can show you out if you wish.”

“That would be great,” Eliza, out of her shock, replied. They both quickly fell into step with the other merchant as she briskly walked forward. “My name is Eliza, and this is my wife Circe. We’re merchants from Thabes.”

“Thabes? Like the ruins?” Anna asked.

Circe felt her blood turn to ice. “The ruins? Thabes is a bustling city— you must’ve heard of it! Naga’s Gem? It—it couldn’t fall in the month we’ve been gone.”

The cheer from Anna’s face fell like rain. “How long have you been here?”

Eliza gripped Circe’s hand tightly. “A little over two weeks.”

“Shit. I’ve never heard of someone being lost here for very long.,” Anna said and turned away. She appeared to be steadying herself, as she turned back to the couple, concern crowding in her eyes. “Listen, these are strange woods. Some people think they’ve been cursed from some ancient dark mage war, but what’s important is, is that space and time are strange here. Some other merchants and I use this to get overseas, and time passes much more slowly here than outside. It takes us an hour get to Valm, but when we get there, we’re reportedly gone for weeks. If you’ve been here for two weeks…”

“Oh gods.”

Eliza felt numb. She hadn’t felt this world-crushing numbness for a long time, well before she met Circe. With her wife by her side though, it was easier to bear, to lean on each other through their grief. Anna had been kind enough, promptly leading them out of the mazelike woods and booking them a room in a nearby town in some nation called Rosanne. She offered to help them get their bearings, and they were thankful for it.

The first few days were the worst. How do you live with the knowledge that everyone and everything you know had crumbled to dust in a matter of days? That your child was long dead, had been waiting for who knows how long for you to return to them? Any hopes of either returning or finding family or home were dashed. Eliza reassured Circe that she did nothing wrong as the latter held back sobs. She knew that this being the second time she left home only to find out family had died in her absence. It must be hitting her hard. Eliza felt weary. She had been uprooted more times than she could count—life as an independent trader didn’t promote a stationary lifestyle—and this was just another interval between temporary homes.

Anna, as well as several trips to the library, filled them in for their lost time and helped distract them from grief. From what they could gather from legends and obscure tales—Forneus had against all odds, succeeded in his foolhardy quest to create a god to replace Naga. It was some monstrous Creation and was ultimately exterminated by the Senate. Political turmoil and drought ended the city’s long struggle not too soon afterwards. As Anna had said, Thabes was now a sunken Labyrinth, filled with Terrors and Risen. Eliza felt her stomach turn at this knowledge, and from Circe’s face, she knew she felt the same.

They spent days pouring over the rest of the history they missed. Circe found it pleasant, a good mental distraction from the terrifying reality they stepped into. Eliza quickly became antsy and went to unpacking and repacking their belongings. They had been carrying medicinal herbs and tonics from Valentia. Anna had offered a large sum for these, but Eliza had declined, opting to sell them herself later. The rest of their possessions were packed rather lightly. They had few tokens and trinkets beyond Circe’s favorite chess pieces and a book of pressed flowers they gathered from their travels. She had unfolded and refolded their clothes in their Inn room when another token fell out of the pocket of a pair of pants.

One of Robbi’s gifts to them.

Eliza felt her heart wrench and she ran her thumb over the dusty glass.

The token was composed of two glass cases fused together, the opening on each case on opposite sides. One was holding a dead insect—an almost crustacean like creature Robbi said they’d made in the lab one day. The other case held a lock of their white hair tied together with a purple thread.

Eliza briefly thought about showing this to her wife but stopped herself. Circe was already mourning the final loss of her family and home. She didn’t need the sight of this gift to fuel her guilt.

It had been a few weeks since their arrival in Rosanne. Anna, bless her heart, had found space in her merchant business for them to support themselves. They continued to manage the grief and shock, and life became bearable once again. They were going to be okay. They were going to start again in Rosanne.

Circe had by no means adored Thabes, and she did miss its towering spires. It was where she grew up and met Eliza after all, but Rosanne was nice and peaceful in its own way. Its lush green fields and forests rolled like ocean waves, and the air was fresh, almost vibrant, all the time. When they weren’t traveling between towns to exchange goods, Eliza was more than happy to indulge her in strategy games. One perk of arriving in an unfamiliar future was that the number of board games had greatly increased.

They were playing one now, lying in one of the many verdant fields in between towns. Circe tried to hide her smirk as Eliza exposed her archer and her myrmidon by moving her knight forward.

“Were you about to say something, dear?” Eliza asked, noticing her hidden expression.

“Oh, no,” Circe said, trying to noncommittally brush off the question. She then moved her own cavalry forward and said, “only that I believe I’ve won this round.”

Eliza fell back in mock despair, hand over her forehead in dismay. She said, “I am bested yet again by Thabe’s master tactician,” trying to put as much agony into her words as she could. She couldn’t keep the smile out of her voice though.

“Well, I won’t deny that I am quite skilled,” Circe said, “but you,” Circe poked her chest for emphasis, “keep forgetting the strengths and weaknesses of a given soldier, save for war clerics.”

“I’ve never given war games much thought. Plus, being a perpetual wanderer means you’re rarely subject to conscription and see much battle besides roadside skirmishes. I just know what I’ve lived my dear. Besides, your parents made you study war tactics, so you have quite an edge,” Eliza explained.

“That is true. How about in the next game, you’ll have a few advantages?” Circe conceded.

These advantages did little to increase Eliza’s rate of success, but Circe did note with a smile, that she was paying attention to strategy more. However, their idyllic afternoon was cut short, as smoke and fire began to erupt from a nearby town. A hurried ride led them to the settlement, and they found it to have just narrowly escaped destruction from invading forces. A Chon’sin swordmaster was assessing the damage along with a Rosannite wyvern rider.

“What happened here?” Circe asked the two as she and Eliza dismounted.

The wyvern rider spoke up, pulling her long fuschia hair from its ponytail to fix it, “Walhart of Valm recently started a conquest of the continent, and it has finally reached here.” After her quick explanation, she turned to the Chon’sin woman with her, and said “Lady, Say’ri, Lord Virion fled last night, believing he would save lives by forcing a quick surrender. However, I fear we will only give it kicking and screaming.”

The woman answered, “Aye, this will only be the first of the destruction Walhart brings. As his war progresses, he will starve the conquered states to fuel his conquest. Dame Cherche, the Resistance is strong enough to defend Rosanne if you would have us and support our efforts.”

“Of course, Lady Say’ri. We would be honored to have you,” the woman named Cherche responded.

“Umm, if I may ask,” Circe began. Say’ri and Cherche both turned in surprise, and Eliza began to give her that look that said ‘Umm, babe, what the fuck are you doing?’

“Yes...” Say’ri said, waiting for Circe to introduce herself.

“Circe! My name is Circe, and this is my wife, Eliza. We recently moved here, our home long gone on another continent, so this state has become our home, and we wish to defend it. We may be merchants but we are no strangers to the battlefield. I even have experience with tactics—“

“You mean you’ve studied tactics,” Eliza corrected. “We’ve never seen a battle larger than a brigand with skirmishes. We’ll hardly be of help here.”

“If you are offering your aide to the Resistance, we would be glad to have you,” Say’ri said. “As we have farmers taking up the sword, any experience you have to offer is valuable.”

“Well, ok,” Eliza said, taking a deep breath. “If you’ll have us, we’ll be happy to help.”

“Very well then. I am Lady Say’ri, leader of the Resistance, and this is Dame Cherche, knight of Rosanne. Welcome to the Resistance, Circe and Eliza.”

Chapter Text

Sully’s presence and her news of the Exalt’s absence brightened the party’s mood considerably, making the remaining week of their journey actually quite enjoyable. She thought Robin’s story was strange but seemed to believe it. She was more interested in how he was able to push Chrom fifteen feet in their brigand skirmish despite him having only weakly defined muscles. Lissa remembered the indent he created when he jumped to the table in the Labyrinth and was quite surprised when the same man was unable to summon this strength during their free time after setting up camp.

Sully suggested he try to carry Frederick in full armor once he got his cast off. They all got a good laugh at the squeak he made and Frederick’s look of surprise. Frederick begrudgingly agreed. However, Lissa was adamant about making sure he healed fully. The wound had been deep, and Robin’s complaints of a piercing and needle-like stabbing sensation in his arm was a sure sign of nerve damage. Re-breaking the bone through some stupid (although potentially hilarious) trick wouldn’t make anything better.

Once she made sure he had healed enough, she did gave him her green light. They all got a very good laugh at Robin’s struggle to lift Frederick in his over 100 lb armor, and Frederick’s almost nervous expression. Lissa noted with laughter that Robin did make a very funny face as well. She would have to prank him to see what other faces he could make.

Their arrival in Ylissetol was met with a small fanfare from their friends as Emmeryn wanted to keep Chrom’s mission covert to not disrupt the ever more fragile peace between Ylisse and Plegia. Nevertheless, it was a joyful time. On the night of their arrival, Emmeryn and the Shepherds feasted and sang and (the of-age) Shepherds drank until the wee hours of the morning. Lissa gave Chrom a knowing smile as she saw Robin clinging to his arm nearly the entire evening, overwhelmed by the crowd. Chrom smiled like an idiot the entire time, patting Robin’s hand occasionally. He, dense as always, gave her a confused look, and she gestured to him “we’ll talk about this later.”

She would later learn that she was hardly one to talk though. She and Maribelle rarely left each other’s side during the night of festivities, and Lissa gleefully recounted tales of her masterful healing and skill with the axe. Maribelle was no doubt impressed and supportive, but she became quieter and quieter as the evening went on.

“Maribelle, are you ok?” Lissa finally asked. She put her hand on her girlfriend’s.

Maribelle looked up from her cup of tea, face sullen. When she saw Lissa’s concerned face, she quickly put on a cheery expression. “Of course, darling! Why wouldn’t I be? You’ve finally come home from your months-long journey!”

Lissa pursed her lips and leaned in close to examine her face. She saw, as she suspected, a flicker of sadness and unease in her eyes. She sat back and said, “Mari, you don’t have to push down your feelings. You can talk to me about what’s bugging you.” Lissa then rested her head on her arm and extended the other for Maribelle to take if she so wished.

Maribelle dropped the façade, accepting Lissa’s outstretched hand in hers. “I don’t want to burden you, darling,” she uncharacteristically mumbled.

Lissa squeezed her hand reassuringly, “Mari, you could never be a burden! I love you, and I care about you. I want to help you, like always. You can tell me anything you want.”

Maribelle smiled genuinely and pulled Lissa in for a quick, tight embrace. She then pulled out her lace handkerchief and quickly blotted away pinpricks of tears. Lissa held her hands in hers, and Maribelle traced her thumb over the princess’ knuckles, lingering over the scars from her year on the battlefield. “Lissa, darling, these nearly two months you’ve been gone, I’ve had a lot of time alone to think, and I’ve just been beside myself with worry. There have been more and more brigand attacks lately, and Miriel has said that the Shepherds will most likely be going on longer and more dangerous expeditions. I spent many a night worrying about your safety and missing you, and I—my heart aches to think about your absence and my inability to keep you safe on the battlefield.”

“I missed you too, Mari,” Lissa began. “It’s true that the battlefield isn’t exactly the safest place to be, but I’m not alone, and I have lots of people to look out for me. We even have a tactician now!”

Maribelle gave a small sigh of relief. “Thank the gods! It’s a miracle all of you have had as much success with only Miriel and Chrom barely studying the art of war.”

Lissa laughed and threw her arms around Maribelle’s neck. “Yeah! And I was also thinking…”

“Yes, dear?” Maribelle asked, encircling her hands around her girlfriend’s waist.

“Well if you’re so worried about me getting hurt and not being able to see me, why don’t you join the Shepherds? We could always use more help.” Lissa excitedly explained. Lissa scooted onto her lap to hold her closer.

Maribelle would’ve brought a hand to her chest in shock had she not been hugging Lissa. “Me? Join your brother’s ragtag band of vigilantes?”

“Well, it is an option, but if you don’t want to, I can see if I can spend more time here.”

No, I’ll do it!” Maribelle quickly said.

“Are you sure, Mari? You aren’t just doing this because it’s something I want?” Lissa asked.

“I’m very sure about this, my darling.” Maribelle said before moving to kiss her forehead. Lissa’s smile grew at her affection. “I want to do this, Lissa. There isn’t any challenge I am not fit to meet! I have been quite enraptured by your tales of valor, my darling, and I would like to see the battlefield, and your prowess, with my own eyes.”

Lissa was overjoyed! “Great! I’m so excited!” Maribelle returned her smile in full force, not one of her prim and barely real court smiles, but a wide, toothy grin. “Can I kiss you, Mari?”

“I would love nothing more, Lissa,” Maribelle said, still smiling as their lips met.

Robin woke the next morning, surprisingly well rested; although, the light streaming through his window suggested that it was because he had slept well into the afternoon. He felt that prickling and piercing feeling in his arm again but did his best to bear it. Yesterday, Chrom had shown him to his hastily made room in the barracks. He told him that he would arrange for a proper desk and set of bookshelves to be brought in as well as any books and supplies he thought he would need. His heart warmed at Chrom’s consideration and excitement for the new tactician. There was little about himself that he knew now, but gods did he know he was really gay. He didn’t expect to fall hard and fast for the kind, strong prince, yet here he was.

Meeting all the Shepherds was a bit of a blur, and how the wine flowed like water last night hardly helped. Robin couldn’t recall any prior knowledge or memory of Ylisse or militaries, but he still found it surprising that the halidom’s primary military forces were the Pegasus Knights—essentially royal family’s personal guard-- and an odd, if energetic, band of young adults that had so far been without a proper tactician. Surely, this was a testimony to Exalt Emmeryn’s peace-promoting leadership and policies. He remembered meeting her but had been too overwhelmed with anxiety to do much but nod and splutter out his own name and a few honorifics for her. He should really apologize to Chrom for clinging to him so much last night.…

 “Robin, have you awoken now?” a light voice accompanied by a brisk knock disrupted Robin’s gay train of thought.

That must be… Miriel, was it? He vaguely remembered meeting the studious mage last night. She was quite interested in his curse and was more than happy to see to his plight. She said it was a curious case of what must be experimental transmutation. Robin was happy she was enthusiastic, even if he only caught half of what she said.

“Yes, I just need to get dressed!” he called out. Thankfully, the room was stocked with plain clothes, so he could wash the ones he had been wearing for gods know how long. He changed out of his night clothes and pulled on a pair of brown trousers. He briefly traced over the scars along his chest, wondering how he got them. These ones arced just under his chest, two on both sides. The symmetry seemed too precise to be an accident on the battlefield. Another mystery to solve.

Robin tried pulling on the white long-sleeved shirt, but it caught over his back-wings and rode up, exposing his stomach. He was glad no one was here to see how ridiculous he looked. He pulled it off, and took out his dagger. Robin felt bad cutting the shirt up, but it was set out for him, so it was his, wasn’t it? Biting his lip, he cut out a chunk of fabric making a large window in the back of the shirt. It slid on easily, although he was a bit cold now.

Robin stepped outside, and found the red-haired mage waiting for him. She had several books under her arm, and gave a small smile as he emerged.

“Good afternoon. How was your rest, Robin?”

“Hello, Miriel. Good, although I slept in much later than I intended. How was yours?”

“That is to be expected after such a boisterous night, but such fanciful evenings are not commonplace in the Shepherds. Mine was of average quality, since I was not intoxicated. I prefer to make notes on the other Shepherd’s qualities while drunk rather than partake in alcohol myself. Now, come along, I have more tomes and instruments in my study.”

She led him to a room not too far from his own. It was nearly packed to the gills with books, scrolls, notes, repurposed cookware, and quite the collection of potions ingredients and flasks of gods know what. She carefully cleared a small table before motioning for Robin to sit on it. He obliged, and she shuffled through a series of notebooks before she found one she was satisfied with. Robin waited a few moments, taking in the carefully organized chaos of her study while Miriel began to write notes. After a few minutes, she asked Robin to weigh and measure himself with the corresponding equipment.

He sat back down, and Miriel looked up from her hurried writing. “Now, Robin, tell me everything. What you remember, what you can do, what you cannot, anything and everything pertinent to your condition.”

“O-ok,” Robin said. “But, can you please, um, keep this just between us?”

“Of course, it is a pillar of good research practice to maintain subject confidentiality,” Miriel replied. “Anything you say here will not leave this room.”

“Thank you.” As much as Robin trusted his friends, he couldn’t get over his worries of his past and particularly the parts of it that screamed “Grimleal” and “potential enemy of House Ylisse,” To dispel these curses, Miriel would no doubt need to know all she could. He only hoped she wouldn’t act on whatever potentially incriminating information he told her.

After what must have been at least an hour or two, Robin finished explaining his lack of memory, his dreams, his physical abilities, his mental prowess and shortcomings, the branded scar on his right hand, and how he felt sick around Falchion. After Miriel finished her notes, she reviewed them, and they sat in silence for a long time. She then asked to examine his physical mutations and spent a few hours measuring different aspects of his wings, eyes, and horns. She was most perplexed by the birds in his arms, taking several feathers from them. 

Next, she brought out an array of equipment to take further measurements. Robin didn’t want to rush her or break her concentration, but he was starting to get cold from being shirtless and quite hungry. He felt somewhat self-conscious about the two long scars across his chest even though he couldn’t quite remember what they could mean. His stomach growled loud enough to be heard, and he drew his wings close to his face in embarrassment.

Miriel leaned closer, examining the movement. “Fascinating,” she murmured to herself. “It appears as though your avian appendages assist in your subconscious emoting.”

“Umm..?” Robin said, confused.

“They express your emotions, as your facial features would,” she clarified. “Now would be an opportune time to cease research for dinner, wouldn’t you agree?”

“That sounds good,” he said, grateful for food and his shirt.

Miriel disappeared for a few minutes before returning with a tray of sandwiches. As they ate, Miriel explained the rest of the research for the night. “Now that I’ve measured your physical properties and qualities, I must measure your magical and energetic ones. I will be able to collect a majority of the data through my equipment and spells, but saliva and blood samples would greatly improve the efficiency and accuracy of my work if you would be willing to consent to the procedures. Demonstrating some of your magical ability without the use of tomes would also be elucidating.”

“Okay. You can take those. I don’t want to rush you, but I do want to find out more about these curses.”

“Of course, Robin. After today, I will have obtained what I assume is all the data that I will require. After that, I cannot say how much time I will require to analyze said data.”

“Thank you so much for helping me, Miriel.”

“Of course, Robin. You are a most curious subject. I myself do not specialize in dark magic, but I do find it fascinating.”

“What do you study? I think Sully mentioned that you have a wide range of interests.”

“Ah, yes. When I was a child, I was determined to understand and unravel the interworking of the human body as well as the physics and laws governing our world. My mother, a scientist herself, encourage my studies and curiosity. It was only after graduating from the physician’s college here that I realized that magic had captured my focus, and so I chose to return to school to acquire an education in the magical arts. In short, I study whatever subject that will elucidate my understanding of the material world.”

“Wow, that’s very impressive.”

“Thank you, Robin.”

“How did you get involved in the Shepherds then?” he asked.

“I started working in the castle as a part-time physician for a few months, and while exploring the magical properties of tomes, Sully observed me and suggested that I join the Shepherds as a mage and possibly their tactician," Miriel explained. "The hours were more suited for my research, and Chrom ensures that we are well paid and housed for our efforts. However, although I have the fullest understanding of tactical strategies, I do not particularly care for that field of study nor do I especially enjoy being our tactician. I must say, it is very fortuitous that Chrom found you, and that you have agreed to join us.”

“Thanks, I’m very lucky to have met him,” Robin said, his face heating up.

They returned to work soon after. By the end, Robin felt exhausted from being poked with instruments and wielding magic by hand alone. Miriel opted to stay working to process the data well into the night, but Robin was free to go. He was quite alarmed to see that it was nearly midnight by the time he left. Before he flopped on his bed, ready to pass out, he saw a note that Chrom must’ve left him along with a covered slice of cake. It was written in a practiced, smooth calligraphy that contrasted sharply from Robin’s own chicken scrawl.

Dear Robin,

I apologize if last night was overwhelming. The Shepherds have their eccentrics, but they are all very warm and reliable in their own ways. I am leaving you this note because you were still sleeping when I went to check on you this morning, and I didn’t want to wake you. Miriel informed me that you two were not to be disturbed today, and I will be in meetings all day today before leaving to the Themis estate where I will be for four to six days. I have found and left my and Miriel’s tactical notes, although, I’m afraid we haven’t left much for you. We have put the tactical books we’ve read in your room along with other resources.

I’m sorry, Robin, that I won’t be here to help you get more acquainted. Frederick will be here if you need anything. Stahl and Sumia will be in the barracks and cooking meals at noon and 7 o’ clock. They will also be happy to show you around. Upon my return, I will be free to show you around or talk or train and would love to do so. Regardless, I would like to meet with you on the night I return in the training grounds to discuss a certain matter.

Your friend,

Chrom

Robin felt a bit sad knowing he wouldn’t see Chrom for the next few days, but he was touched that he left him a handwritten note and desert. He wanted to know what Chrom wanted to talk about with a gnawing anxiety but he supposed he would just have to wait to find out.

Chrom flopped onto the bed, mind turning to static from nearly three days of nonstop meetings. When Maribelle said her father wanted to meet with the royal siblings he was expecting just he and Emmeryn would talk, while Maribelle tested her skills with the rapier against him. Instead, it was hours of discussion on whether an increase in Ylisse’s military force was necessary, how the Shepherds would deal with the dawning brigand problem, etc. The next two days only brought more meetings with more nobles.

 Thankfully, the duke had let him and Lissa take their leave from today’s meeting early, and he could practice with his blade, getting out some pent up energy before retiring for the night. He barely heard the soft click of his door open. He decided to think nothing of the stray noise and continue lying face down on the soft quilt.

 A cascade of slimy, wriggling creatures landed on his back, and he jolted upright at the unpleasant touch.  

 “AHH! LISSA!!” Chrom yelled as he scrambled off the bed, trying to get the creatures off of him.

 Sure enough, Lissa was standing by his bed, frog basket in hand, and, doubling over in laughter. “Sorry, Chrom, I had to get one prank in after all of those stuffy meetings,” she said in between breathless laughter.

 Emmeryn appeared in the doorway, and took only a short time to piece together what happened. She smiled tiredly but warmly and entered the room. “I was wondering where you two had gone off to.”

 “Emm!” Chrom and Lissa said in unison and move to hug their older sister. She embraced them warmly. The weeks away had felt like far too long and the threat of brigands and raids on the horizon promised little peace for them.

 Emmeryn pulled away, her smile as warm as ever. She said, “It’s been ages since we’ve last talked, just the three of us. But first, let’s clean up these frogs, shall we?”

 After corralling and carefully placing the frogs back in Lissa’s habitat basket, the three siblings lay on Chrom’s bed. Chrom smiled as for a second, everything felt like it used to when they were younger, telling stories to one another late into the night. Emmeryn was enraptured by Lissa’s tales of travel and the Labyrinth, and Chrom excitedly talked about Robin and his knack for strategy.

 “I can’t believe that it’s truly over. To be honest, I don’t know how to feel about everything,” Chrom concluded.

 “How so?” Emmeryn asked, propping herself up on her elbow.

 “So much of my childhood and these past few years were devoted to this single task, and it was over, just like that. Nothing but a skeleton to chop up. I always thought fighting a god would be I don’t know, more life-and-death-like? There was no fight, and I almost feel bad. Grima couldn’t even defend himself, but he was already dead, so I guess there’s nothing to say about that. I’m not sure what to do now.”

 “Hmm. Yes, that is quite perplexing. Dead or not, it was prophesized that Grima would return to bring our world to ruin and was hardly saintly, desecrating the dead. Plegian and Ylissean diviners have foretold it so,” Emmeryn replied. She began to recite those prophesized words,

On the thousandth year since Grima’s defeat

Shall rise the selfsame dragon of desolation and deceit.

He shall emerge from the fallen city beneath the sands

And bring naught but ruin to each and every land.

All hope lies in Naga’s blessed,

To save the world from Grima’s tempest.”

“That is true I suppose,” Chrom said. “Do you think we could enter another holy war? Would Plegia find out about what I did? Do you think father will…?”

 Emmeryn was quiet for a few, long moments. “I’m afraid when the fated day comes to pass, everything will come to light. We can only hope to minimize our father’s voice and actions so as to not fan the flames.”

 “How many Plegians still worship Grima anyways?” Lissa asked. “It must be hard to without any scriptures or whatever.”

 “I know that it was in the Grimleal religion at some point to worship and revere the sylphs and spirits of old as well as Grima, but I cannot say what they do now,” Emmeryn answered. “Since the first crusades, Plegians have kept nearly all about their religion secret to outsiders understandably.”

 Chrom frowned and rolled onto his stomach. Defeating Grima had always been someone else’s plan for him, but he had gone along with it and never given its ramifications too much thought. He felt like under his father’s heel, he had no other option. He had just wanted it to be over and done with so he could go back to helping people through the Shepherds. Knowing another bloody war could erupt from his actions made Chrom feel nauseous. But, if he didn’t, Grima would destroy the world, right? And there was Robin too. He could be Grimleal, and Chrom just destroyed his god. Robin also couldn’t learn much about his own heritage and religion in Ylissetol, and life on the road couldn’t guarantee finding sources for such knowledge. Was the prophecy really true? Did he really have no other option?

 “—Chrom? Hey, Chrom?” Lissa said nudging him.

 With a start, he realized that he had been lost in thought and missed what his sisters had said. “Yes, Lissa? I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

 “Were you thinking about Robin again?” she said with a sly smile.

 “N-no, I mean a little bit but not really,” Chrom stuttered out. Why did he feel so nervous? Never mind that now, he would sort it out later. “What were you discussing?”

 “I was explaining the situation with Valm,” Emmeryn answered. “I can start from the beginning if you’d like, Chrom.”

 “Thanks, Em.”

Chrom pushed aside his swirling thoughts of Robin and Grima to listen to his Emmeryn’s explanation. Apparently, this great conqueror had made his start by freeing his small nation from the control of the Dynasts and then garnered enough support to start expanding his conquest to the entire continent. What was very strange was why he decided to set his sights for the Ylissean continent as well. Valm and Ylisse hardly had any relations beyond independent merchants even when they were called Archanaea and Valentia. Their father had not shared any specific information with Emmeryn, leaving her in the dark and to once again take up the mantle as Exalt in his absence. This time, she had been ready and waiting to take up the position again, and the internal peace in Ylisse seemed stable.

 Their relations with Plegia were a different matter. Along with Chrom and Lissa’s skirmish on their way back to Ylissetol, Plegian brigands were attacking towns on the Plegian-Ylissian border. No response came from Emmeryn’s messages, and Phila was less than eager for Emmeryn to go to Plegia herself. Anti-Ylissean sentiment still held firm in Plegia but outright attacks like these came as a surprise. Chrom could see from the dark circles under Emmeryn’s eyes that the situation was weighing on her.

 “We’ll make it through this, Em, I know we will. You know how to be Exalt, and you have far more favor in both Ylisse and Plegia than father will ever have. You've proven yourself to be a figure of peace.” Chrom said to her, squeezing her hand.

 "Yeah!” Lissa added, placing her hand on top of her brother’s. "You've dealt with worse before, and we're here to stand with you."

 “Thank you both,” Emmeryn smiled. “The Ylissean continent will be brought to an age of peace, I promise that. And we will work towards it together.”

Robin had spent the past two days getting acquainted with the Shepherds, pouring through tactical tomes, and exploring the castle. Although only Stahl, Miriel, and Sumia were in the barracks right now, he had seen others come and go, slowly meeting all of them. They were all quite friendly and lively, and yet Robin wondered how they could function together as an effective force. Some like Sully and Vaike seemed to have some focus for fighting but for some of the others, it seemed much more like a secondary duty. Well, he would learn soon enough how this militia functioned on the battlefield.

He had noted with some surprise that Frederick had opted to stay behind, but that soon faded once he realized that the great knight was probably there to keep an eye on him. He refused to let Robin roam the castle on his own, and while he was grateful for his tours and directions, he felt somewhat unnerved by the great knight’s watchful presence.

Robin couldn’t help but stew in his room over Frederick on the second night. On one hand, it made sense for him to let the great knight lead him through the castle as his sense of direction was abysmal. Yet, he felt something broil up inside himself at the thought of needing help for such a simple task. He had discovered and proven himself to be quite capable on and off the battlefield now that he had left that cursed labyrinth. He had already learned so much about the strange new world he was in. He shouldn’t need to have someone to lead him through a building. It was demeaning to have such a man, a worm, question his loyalties, after all, he was a---

Robin froze. His anger and thoughts had erupted from somewhere unknown before fizzling out, leaving him with empty air. The moment of anger had passed. Where had that come from? Robin sat down on his bed, rubbing his eyes and folding his wings. Did he truly mean that sentiment? Was this a remnant of who he was before losing his memory? Did he used to be awful? Could he revert back to that? Worry started to rise in his heart.

Robin tried to bury his growing worries as best he could.

On the third day, Robin woke up early, still rattled by last night’s thoughts. He decided to make use of his early awakening and snuck past Frederick, so he could roam the castle by himself. He made sure to smooth his wings and horns into his skin, leaving only strange tattoos as evidence of his curse. He left the crows animated, as he could hide them in a long sleeved shirt. Chrom and Lissa had told the castle staff about Robin’s arrival, but he didn’t want to draw too much attention or nosey questions. Robin smiled as he walked the quiet hallways, stopping every so often to look out the windows. A much as he was enjoying himself and this alone time, he was also hopelessly lost and tried to ignore it.

Out of one particularly large window, he saw a large garden Sumia had mentioned the day before. She told him about how at the center of the hedge maize was a great pond, surrounded by flowerbeds. It was, like most of Ylisse, lush and verdant. Robin wanted to explore it, and so of course, carefully opened the window, stepped out onto the roof, and jumped down. His chest seized as he realized he forgot that he had smoothed his wings into his back and couldn’t unfurl them to slow his descent. He fell and crashed into a tree and then onto the ground, earning himself a host of bruises and scratches as well as a twisted ankle. Grimacing, Robin got up, dusted himself off. He would have to find the infirmary soon, but he was already outside so he might as well find what he came here for....

Making up his mind, Robin headed towards the garden, limping.

Frederick polished the blades and axes in the weapons store room, lost in thought. Menial tasks soothed his nerves, and he always felt antsy when he was away from the royal family. Emmeryn had given him enough of a hint to tell him to try to rest and relax after such a long journey, and he knew Phila was more than capable to look out for them. Besides, he wanted to make sure Robin could get his bearings in the castle. Chrom wasn’t here to see to that and most of the Shepherds had other obligations to wrap up before they would begin border patrols.

Frederick still thought Robin’s story held something to be wary of, but at the present, nothing much could be done. After their time in the Labyrinth, nearly three weeks of travel, and his help in their brigand skirmish, it became less and less likely that Robin truly meant the royal family harm, long-con theories aside. He had had endless opportunities to do harm unto Chrom and Lissa, steal Falchion or the Fire Emblem, or otherwise backstab them and so far, had not acted on any of these. In fact, he strived to be as helpful as he could. Still, he did possess that monstrous strength even if he couldn’t command it.

There was also the mystery of Robin’s right hand. Looking back, it could just be a scar he was self-conscious of, but it could also be a criminal’s brand, or a tattoo of a brigand’s gang. It could be a Grimleal marking. Robin was presumably Plegian after all. If Robin was one of the followers to that foul, aberration... Frederick would sooner die than let any harm come to the royal siblings or Ylisse. He would have to wait for an opportune moment to broach the matter and put it to rest.

The bell tower rung, alerting nearly all of Ylissetol that it was 1 o’clock. Where had the time gone? The storeroom had been severely neglected, and in hindsight, Frederick should’ve expected he would get carried away in the task of sorting through it. He returned to the barracks common room and when Robin wasn’t there, briefly checked his room. Also not there. He caught Sully as she was heading to the training grounds.

“Good afternoon, Sully,” he said, a hint of urgency bleeding into his voice.

“Good afternoon, Frederick,” Sully replied. She twirled her lance and asked, “Wanna spar with me?”

“I’m afraid not. I’m looking for Robin. We have much more of the grounds to cover today. Have you seen him?”

“Well, ya should’ve told him to wait up for you ‘cause I saw him leave the barracks around half past six,” Sully said, resting her lance across her shoulders.

“What?!” Frederick said in disbelief. Without so much as a second thought, he bolted off to the hallway that led into the castle.

“Hey! Frederick! He’s probably fine!” Sully called after him.

While this was certainly not an emergency situation, any number of a host of bad scenarios could come out of this. Robin could run into a noble who held more outward disdain for Plegians or uninformed guards could mistake him for a monster and attack him. Robin could become lost and trapped within the twisting corridors. Chrom would be remiss if he let anything happen to the man he fancied. He could also indeed have ill intentions and decide to start carrying them out today.

After sweeping through the first and second floors, asking any castle staff if they’d seen a white haired Plegian man walk by and periodically calling out his name, Frederick took a moment to breathe and refocus. So far, he found only a handful of people had seen him early in the morning and had no inkling of where he was now. He ran his hand through his curly hair, trying to keep calm. As he did so, he noticed a small trail of crow feathers.

He let out a sigh of mixed relief. Robin’s no doubt. That man shed more than he was aware of. His eyes followed them to a large, open window, overlooking the garden. Upon closer inspection, he found more feathers and saw that the tree below had several broken branches. Frederick hardly needed more evidence to paint a picture of what happened.

He rushed back downstairs and then towards the gardens. It only took a few minutes of following the feather trail in the hedge maze to find Robin leaning against a tree, ankle twisted, and wings sticking uncomfortably out of his ridden up shirt. Upon see Frederick, the shorter man tried his best to appear nonchalant.

“Ah, hello, Frederick. It’s quite a lovely day, isn’t it?” Robin started. He tried to hide his twisted ankle, but he couldn’t disguise his wince as he dragged it behind his other leg. Frederick could practically feel the tension the stiffness of his wings showed.

“Hello, Robin,” Frederick started, unable to keep the frustration out of his voice. Oh my gods he’s almost as bad as Chrom, wandering off and getting into trouble. “Sully told me you decided to go for an early morning walk.”

“Um, yes, it was great!” he said, smiling and setting a hand against his waist.

“Was it?” Frederick said, arching an eyebrow.

“The early morning quiet is very pleasant, and the gardens are truly spectacular. I enjoyed it very much,” Robin replied, smiling a bit too hard.

“Did you also enjoy falling off the second story roof, crashing onto a tree, and turning your ankle?” Frederick asked. He was perhaps being a bit cruel, but Robin did in fact jump off the roof and land himself in this mess.

Robin didn’t answer and instead, looked at the ground, his smile fading under embarrassment and hsame.

“Here,” Frederick said, walking up to him and offering the man his shoulder to lean on. “We’ll go back to the barracks and get you something to eat.”

Robin nodded, seemingly unable to form words.

After a few minutes of walking silently, he decided to broach the question. “Why did you not wait or look for me, Robin?” Frederick asked.

The smaller man was silent for a few seconds before answering, and refused to make eye contact. He mumbled, “I find your watchful presence rather unnerving. I feel as though you are watching my every movement, waiting for the smallest sign of ill intentions to pounce on me. I also... never mind.”

Frederick raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment on that last part. He explained, “I suppose I did not make this expressly clear, Robin, but you have earned some trust. For now.”

“I have?!” Robin said, turning his face to Frederick’s and standing on his toes and grabbing Frederick’s shoulder to lean in close.  “Since when?”

Frederick felt his face heating up with Robin’s closeness but managed to answer calmly. “After our encounter with brigands. You did not have to be our tactician nor put yourself at the forefront of danger, yet you did. And I saw how you defended Chrom in the thick of it and injured your arm. Furthermore, Chrom has put a great amount of trust in you thus far, and after this length of time, I have begun to see the value in his judgement of you.”

“Well, um, thank you, Frederick,” Robin said, returning to a normal stance.

“You are welcome, Robin. I do hope that you will not betray this trust.”

“Of course! I owe you and Chrom and Lissa so much. You’re all my friends,” he said warmly.

Frederick smiled inwardly at the statement. “Thank you, Robin.”

They continued in silence before Robin asked a question of his own. “So, why have you insisted on coming with me in the castle if you’re not worried about me causing trouble?”

“You will need to earn more of my trust before I finally put that fear to bed, Robin. My intent was primarily to show you where the facilities are as well as ensure you did not get lost and your safety is maintained. I believe that your sense of direction has been compromised by your curse. It would be foolish to think anyone could navigate the entire castle on their own when they have just arrived. Chrom cares for you, and so your well-being is now under my list of duties while he is gone.”

“Oh. Yes, that makes sense,” Robin replied a bit stiffly, embarrassment coloring his voice. After a few moments he turned away, whispering to himself just under his breath, “Why was I so angry then?”

Frederick felt his suspicions rise again but didn’t comment.