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Eyes of the Past, Glimpses of the Future
He hadn’t expected to be this nervous. None to truly enjoy big festivities, Chrom was almost uncomfortable about the thought that people from every corner of Ylisse — and beyond — came to gather today just to see him, celebrate him. Something about it was just off.
The last time a gathering like this had occurred because of him had been his wedding, and at that time Chrom had shared the spotlight with his wife; in fact, most eyes had been on her, her beauty, the good fortune her thrown bouquet would bring a lucky maiden, the family heirloom of a ring on her finger. But this time, it was exclusively about Chrom, and even though his beloved wife would obviously be by his side during the event, it was impossible for him to stay behind, step into the shadows a little to leave the stage to her.
It was weird. Chrom had never had issues stepping in front of his troops to rally them for the next battle or praise them after a successfully fought campaign. Something about this was different, however, and he could never really understand why. He had to find out some day, though, this was his life now after all. Maybe it had to do with the masses of people he didn’t know a single thing about other than the fact that they lived in Ylisse, that he ruled over them. He knew most of the names and faces of his soldiers, but whenever the common folk came together in masses their faces just merged into one big amalgamation of the abstract concept of “people” as he looked at them from Castle Ylisstol sitting proudly enthroned atop its hill.
Maybe their silent expectations took a bigger toll on him than he had thought. Screwing up on the battlefield would affect himself first and foremost, and despite the fact that his mistakes in battle would inevitably also affect everybody else around him, they were so much more easily avoided.
All he had to do was follow strategies and orders.
But things were so much different now.
He hesitated for a moment, locked eyes with those of his father. The old man showed himself in painted form hanging from the wall in an ensemble of pictures adorning the room all around, showing some of the greatest Exalts of the realm, and the kings that had come before them. Sometimes Chrom wondered why his father had added himself to this hall of fame when many others weren’t here; whenever he had been here it had only seemed to him as though he was still alive, judging him with the mixture of royal authority and fatherly sharpness that his young mind had been unable to fully understand back then. Now that he was older, Chrom had started to realize where his father had come from the entire time, and yet, something about his presence was still looming over him in a way that made it feel like the old man kept his grasp over his son in an attempt to continue his own legacy when things had become so much different after his demise. Chrom had already decided long ago that he wouldn’t go back to his old man’s way of doing things, not after all it had led to. But he knew he couldn’t simply emulate Emmeryn either.
A noise came from the other side of the room.
As Chrom investigated, he found that young Lucina attempted to climb out of her little crib placed close to the fireplace, trying over and over again to lift her leg over the edge, but failing, sliding back into her bed with a little thump. But she was back up again immediately for another try, wouldn’t let one failure discourage herself from reaching for freedom.
Chrom smiled, couldn’t help but watch his daughter for a while, easily detected the natural fighter within her. When she took a break from her climbing attempts, she finally noticed her father, big blue eyes lighting up as she reached her arms out towards him, stretching as far as she could go, excited gaze never breaking.
“Da-aa!”
She began hopping around in her crib, however, as the little princess was not able to stand much yet, let alone walk, she did all of that while still sitting down, bopping up and down almost like one of her own soft toys. As Chrom observed her for a bit more, getting lost in the bliss of a finally peaceful world that had an equally peaceful future for her in store, Lucina’s pleas grew louder while her patience declined.
“DAA-AA!!”
“Alright, alright”, Chrom laughed and finally freed his daughter from the cushioned prison she was getting so impatient with. She was dressed for the occasion, in a long, flowy blue and white dress that reminded her father of the one she had worn during her baptismal ceremony — back when she had just been born and had been so tiny it had been almost impossible to find her between all those folds and layers of cloth and lace. Today’s outfit was much more practical, yet still as elegant as one could make a toddler look, and her having grown rapidly in the past months meant Lucina was way easier to find in between her own clothes. She hadn’t been too happy with the dressing process, Chrom had heard, protesting vehemently and even crying a little as her mother and the handmaids had tried their hardest making her look like the best princess she could be.
If annoying dressing processes would be the greatest hardship this little one had to face in her life, Chrom thought, then all this fighting had absolutely been worth it. Taking a walk across the room, Chrom tried his hardest to make sure his daughter’s little dress wasn’t getting crumpled or dirty. He wouldn’t care personally, and probably neither would Robin, but he knew Frederick, the handmaids and practically everyone else of the dozens of people that flew around him and his family today would possibly end up with a heart attack seeing their young princess in anything but perfect threads for this historic day. Luckily, she had gotten used to her new dress quickly, was contempt with it, especially now that her father carried her around.
Together, they explored the study, walked here and there for a bit as Ylisse’s young princess directed the way, pointing at different things that caught her attention before all of it was quickly focused on her father again.
After a little while, Chrom stopped, blue eyes’ gaze falling onto the biggest painting around, which hung prominently from the wall just above the fireplace. From up there, the great Hero-King stared back at him. People had already compared him to the legendary Marth more often than Chrom was comfortable with, but he knew that now, after the demise of the Fell Dragon and today’s coronation, these associations would only ever pick up more steam. Sure, he was aware there were parts in his personal history and in that of the previous war that were rather similar to the tales told of the great saviour of Archanea and yet, the comparisons never seemed justified. All Chrom had done was protecting the people he loved.
To change the future towards a better path for everyone.
Marth’s blue eyes seemed so much like many others Chrom had looked up to during his life so far; strong and determined like his father’s, yet they also showed a gentleness that he had thought only Emmeryn could portray. This gentleness was something he had only recently noticed in the great Hero-King’s portrait, had been sure before that all that was visible in his gaze would be strength. But he had been utterly wrong. Chrom had grown up with so many stories and tales about the Hero-King that they had formed the impression early on in his childhood mind that this man had skilfully slain every foe in his path without looking back, leaving his gentle, caring side for moments away from the battlefield to make sure his allies received all the support they needed. Having heard first-hand accounts of Marth’s life from one of his allies only reinforced the impression that instead of being a hardened warlord, the Hero-King had just done everything in his might to protect the ones he loved. He, too, had struggled along the way, had faltered and doubted. He, too, had only been human.
There was something very reassuring about this thought.
Chrom felt the little bundle in his arms snuggle up even closer to him, happily burying her face in the fur that lined his coat for today. He watched Lucina for a moment, stroke her hair ever so slightly, hoping this wouldn’t destroy the intricate braiding her young locks had been decorated with while her delighted blabbing almost sounded like a melody, echoing the innocence which the world now had the opportunity to return to.
For a small moment, Chrom wondered what the people of a few centuries ahead would end up saying about him. He told himself he didn’t care what others thought of him, but something had changed, and he was sure he knew what it was. As much as he wished he didn’t have to care about his impression to the public apart from what they would see when meeting him directly, now that it was becoming official, that he was going to walk the road of a an Exalt, it meant that the impression he left, the decisions he made, it would all reflect back on Ylisse as a whole. Even more so than before, his fate would be closely intertwined with that of his country. He was prepared for that, of course, had been raised with that awareness in mind for all his life, yet the thought of it was still somewhat daunting. Having witnessed how gracefully Emmeryn had carried this burden, and how it had spelled her end, Chrom couldn’t help but wonder whether he was even able to carry on her great legacy.
After all, it was her he had to follow, not Marth. Her legacy, her accomplishments, was what Chrom was determined to build the future upon, not his wars that had cost so many lives, had resulted in so much suffering. Even if it had saved the world in the end, the means taken to get there had never been ideal. He remembered what Robin had once said, how she would even consider a won battle a failure if just one single ally had died, and while he knew there were moments when they had to push on no matter what, he had agreed for the most part. The pain of losing a loved one was not something he would wish on his worst enemies.
Eyes wandering about the room while the small bundle in his arms had calmed down and appeared to be sleeping, they landed on another portrait hanging from one of the walls. They were everywhere in this study, and while it had never bothered Chrom before, they were so much different today. Watching him, judging him and every single step he was about to take as Ylisse’s new Exalt. No, perhaps not all of them were judging him. Emmeryn’s gentle, yet dignified demeanor on the painting hanging from the wall across the windows reminded him of the days of his childhood, was smiling down on him just like she had done so often. Framed by the morning sunlight, it seemed as though she was trying to tell him that everything would be fine, like she had done so often during his childhood, not always to calm or console him, but simply because she had believed in her little brother.
Don’t worry, Chrom, it’ll be alright, I know you can do this.
Her soft voice echoed in his mind as though the portrait spoke to him, the warm rays of the sun not reaching toward the painting, but Chrom himself as he looked at it, almost like her soft hands that would so often caress his head, even ruffle through his hair on occasions. She had done this even as both of them had grown into adulthood, Emmeryn arguing that he would always stay her little brother, no matter what. Sometimes he still yearned for those moments of childish sibling interaction.
A soft knock at the door cleared those memories away, brought Chrom back to the reality of the present.
It was time now, wasn’t it.
The door opened, Robin peeking inside with a smile.
“Ready?”
She slipped into the room, already dressed in long, elegant robes that combined the typical Ylissean blue and white with her favourite purple. She had expressed doubts before marrying Chrom that she would make for a good queen, but time had shown that she was more than capable, oftentimes even much more fit for her position than Chrom considered himself for his own. Together, they had not only weathered every battlefield they had stepped upon, they also navigated the harsh waves of politics now that the world had found peace. There had been a reason why Chrom had done almost nothing but search for her after Robin had slain the Fell Dragon and disappeared; he needed her now more than ever.
The soon-to-be Exalt met her practically in the middle of the room, not far from Emmeryn’s portrait. Still carrying his sleeping daughter, Chrom took great care to not disturb her when he walked towards his wife, knowing fully well that little Lucina’s daytime naps weren’t always the deepest ones. Robin chuckled.
“Looks like you aren’t quite done with your current duties yet.”
The blue-haired sighed, but managed a smile, carefully trying to pry Lucina’s tiny hands away from the fur of his coat. This was easier said than done without waking her up, however, as her grip turned out to be surprisingly strong and she squirmed and yawned a little with every time Chrom tried to get a finger between hers in hopes of opening her fist. After watching him for a few moments trying again and again, just to stop in his tracks whenever Lucina moved, Robin took it upon herself to help him out, her more slender fingers having greater success at gently freeing Chrom’s coat from his daughter’s grasp.
“There we go…”
Chrom smiled at Robin’s display of more competent parenthood, sighed a little when she had managed to take the small bundle of dress and human from him to cradle her daughter against her own chest.
“Honestly, I think right now I’d rather continue this duty than… the next one.”
Robin returned her little princess to her crib, from where Lucina, woken up by the movement, immediately wanted to be taken out again. She only tried briefly, however, quickly being overcome by sleepiness again, cuddling against one of her stuffed toys instead of her father’s fur lining. Chrom was glad she was sleeping for now; there had been plans for her to attend the crowning ceremony as well, but Robin had pointed out that the amount of people, the loud music and applause, the all-around busy atmosphere would probably scare the young girl and her baby-typical inexperience with the world. Chrom had agreed, didn’t want to see his beloved daughter cry because of this. The older version of her had already shed more than enough tears because of him in one way or another, and he was determined to make sure this one would never have to.
He glanced at that small, barely visible roundness of Robin’s belly, elegantly wrapped in silky threads.
None of these children should ever have to experience even a fraction of what those from the future had seen. Chrom would do everything in his might so that they didn’t have to, and today’s event was part of that.
Silence fell over the two of them, which to him landed somewhere between peaceful and unnerving. He knew this would probably be the last bout of silence for the day, already able to hear the buzz of the castle staff and the onlooking masses starting to pour towards the event outside. Having a moment to breathe before it all started was quite nice.
Chrom took a short glance out of the great window overlooking the castle town of Yllistol, from which long lines of small dots made their way uphill towards the castle. Even if none of them would be able to see the coronation in person, they would greet their newly appointed Exalt from the big courtyard when he was going to step out onto the balcony overseeing it as a new man, just like years ago after the wedding ceremony, or as part of the celebration after the end of the war. Hundreds of eyes glued on him, and him alone. And while this wasn't the first time all eyes would be on him, he definitely preferred if all of those eyes belonged to the soldiers fighting for the same cause as himself. These masses of civilians, however, he felt merged into a grey blob of faceless judgement — a normal process, probably, but also one Chrom wasn’t sure he could ever really get used to. He could tell his soldiers to come and carry any issue to him, but that seemed impossible in the case of thousands of people living all throughout the Halidom.
Another thing he had been prepared for, another thing he wished could be different.
But there was no helping it. All he could do was to make sure his people would never have a reason to judge him, to be unhappy with his way of leading them. He was no Emmeryn, as much as he wished to follow her great footsteps, but certainly, there was something he could do to ensure Ylisse’s prosperity within a peaceful world.
Robin returned to his side, chuckling slightly once more.
“I haven’t seen you this nervous since the wedding…”
She reached up, fingertips brushing across Chrom’s hair as she rearranged some of his blue strands. Soon, this head of his would be adorned by a little crown — one not quite the same as the kind that was commonly associated with the great Hero-King, but its design had quite obviously been the inspiration. Rather, it was the same kind his father had once worn, a legacy that felt rather heavy even without the physical object representing it. Even apart from the differing traditions when it came to the male or female rulers of Ylisse, taking Emmeryn’s crown had just not felt right. There was no way he would ever be able to do it justice.
Fighting with one of Chrom’s strands, Robin’s nails brushed through the blue hair before they gave it the finishing touch with a small pat.
“Don’t worry, Chrom, it’ll be alright, I know you can do this.”
He sighed. For just a moment a different voice echoed in his head, quickly returning to that of his wife, but the feeling lingered in the back of his mind. He looked up once more to find his sister’s gentle, refined face smiling down upon him, and when he turned back, a similarly gentle face did the same. No, this one right in front of him was even more beautiful. He returned the smile.
Bells rang, signalling that the crowning ceremony was soon to begin.
Chrom looked behind him once more, saw the small sleeping bundle in the crib.
He might not be Emmeryn, she was not with him anymore to guide him, and perhaps this was the best opportunity to move on. It would never stop hurting, he was sure, he would forever miss his dear sister, and yet, there were others with him now, others that were helping him, guiding him. So many others.
He might not be Marth, didn’t possess his chivalry or mental strength, but perhaps he could find solace in the fact that both of them had been fully aware they would have never accomplished their tasks alone, without their allies on their side. He was sure Emmeryn, too, would have agreed.
Another knock at the door, Frederick appeared.
“It is time, Milord.”
Chrom nodded. Taking Robin’s hand that she offered to him, he took one last look back at the portraits overseeing the room, almost as if the people seen in them truly sat here, telling him they’d be waiting for him to return as Ylisse’s newly crowned Exalt. A moment later, however, they were back to what they really were: paintings showing remnants of the past. They might still be with him, but Chrom knew that couldn’t be all, he had to move on for the sake of everyone who was lost on the way here, and everyone who would still be here for this upcoming, new era.
It was time to step into the future.