Chapter Text
Robin deeply understood the consequences of attraction the more his mind lost focus on his work and instead sought Chrom's magnetic laughter as it burst from the other end of the dining hall table. Without thinking he looked up and caught blue hair swept aside cheerful eyes and an unabashed grin, a tableau made all the more surreal beneath the golden glow of a candelabra.
Robin didn't know if other men found Chrom distractedly charming. There were women who agreed with that sentiment, but Robin supposed Prince's like Chrom were naturally appealing to young, eligible women. He was disarming, charismatic, and by all accounts looking for a woman to marry. It was natural to assume Chrom had many admirers, but as Robin went back to his book--determined to finish the chapter on strategic maneuvers over rugged terrain--he wondered if any of those admirers were men.
When Robin first met the Shepherds he was amazed how tight-knit they were. The group shared more than watered down wine and harrowing battle stories. They picked flowers and played pranks, taught cooking and mended underclothes. They were a family, and it took a very long time for Robin to feel like he belonged on the receiving end of their unnumbered affections. Chrom spent more time than anyone lavishing Robin with attention. It seemed like the Prince used every spare moment away from court taking an active role in Robins day, no matter how mundane and uneventful it was. There were late evenings filled with dry research--obscure scrolls which referenced even more obscure scrolls--and yet Robin was convinced Chrom desired nothing more than to sit beside him, mired in crumbling texts and musty parchments. Robin didn't believe Chrom actually found such evenings fun, that would be bookish Miriel's idea of excitement, but there was a clear aura of contentment from Chrom that made Robin smile despite his growing concern.
Another bell of laughter sounded and Robin finally gave up on finishing his chapter. He marked the page before pushing the heavy tome back into a canvas sack beside his feet. Chrom, who previously seemed so distracted by Gaius' story, noticed Robin's freedom immediately.
"Robin! Come join us down here!" Chrom's grin was shining and Robin couldn't look away. "Gaius said he was just getting to the good part."
Gaius smirked against his wine cup before taking a long drink. "You should join us Bubbles. The dog in the story reminds me of you."
Robin learned long ago not to find Gaius' comments offensive, and instead played along. "Oh? Does this dog outsmart you by any chance? I could understand the resemblance if it did.”
His orange-haired friend barked a laugh. “It’s smart and feisty. Two of your most notable traits.”
Chrom patted the empty chair at his side, amused eyes catching the light in a way that made him look ethereal. Robin knew when he was doomed, and resigned himself to a night of drinking and exchanging stories of entendre and innuendo.
* * * * * * *
Robin’s fateful night turned into an early, brutal morning. After the third (perhaps fourth?) pitcher of wine and a plate of rosemary biscuits--courtesy of Frederick who rightly suspected the food might mitigate their impending hangovers--Robin stumbled back to his quarters in what he only remembered as a swimming haze. Gaius was evil, drinking both Chrom and Robin under the table while remaining suspiciously sober. Gaius had probably been drinking a very watered down version of the same wine he generously served while expressing inordinate delight in their drunken commentary. Robin had to admit that Chrom was an extremely endearing drunk, and that wasn’t his rose-colored inebriation talking. The flushing cheeks of a tipsy Chrom framed a smile that became something all its own--impossibly kind and unburdened. There was an innocence to Chrom that made his drunken shenanigans adorable, though Robin suspected attraction tempered his opinion.
Despite those enjoyable memories, Robin now cursed the sunlight streaming over his face and the birds chirping merrily on a crooked branch near his window. He forgot it was impossible to sleep in, too many early morning marches and strategy reviews during the Plegian-Ylisse war had trained his body to wake with the sun. With too much effort and too little forethought he sat up, quivering from the full brunt of a throbbing headache he desperately tried to will away.
The pounding in his head, like the harsh rapping of knuckles against wood grain, became worse so he flopped back to his pillow and hoped lying prone would make the world stop spinning.
“Robin?” Came a muffled voice beyond his door followed by additional raps. “Robin did you forget you were summoned by the council for an audience today?”
It was Frederick, and not the Frederick-sounding illusion Robin hoped was making that noise.
“Robin if you don’t answer me I will be forced to open this door.” He sounded both stern and worried. Classic Frederick.
Robin moaned a reply which was muffled by his face smashed into a down pillow.
“Robin!” The door swung wide and a very fresh-looking, wide-eyed Frederick rushed into Robin’s room. “Are you ill?”
That was a silly question to ask a man one saw drinking heavily the night before. Of course he was ill.
“Oh.” Frederick suddenly remembered. “I thought for sure I watered down those pitchers…”
Ah hah. So Gaius had partaken Frederick’s mercy and Chrom and Robin had been played by Gaius’ devilry. Classic Gaius. Proof of his suspicions didn't make Robin feel any better.
Frederick appeared grave as he stated, “The council will not like this at all.”
Robin shoved one leg over his bed in a poor attempt at appearing well enough to move. “I can do it,” he assured with very little confidence. He in fact didn’t think he could do anything but moan but it wouldn’t be the first time Robin put on fake smiles while ignoring a splitting headache.
Frederick was not impressed. “It would look bad to reschedule but...I think it would be worse to show up as you are now.” His eyes took a determined edge. “I will approach Senior Advisor Villus about---”
“Don’t bother,” Robin interrupted. He didn’t want Frederick making amends for his sake. He was the Royal Tactician and any weakness showed now would only bite him later. “Give me some boiled water, watercress, lemon and a teaspoon of shaved cinnamon. And fifteen minutes. Tell the council I was held up by a few last minute preparations.”
The look on Frederick’s face was almost worth how terrible Robin felt. He was a difficult man to surprise. “Of course.” Frederick inclined his head with a half-smile on his lips before leaving the room.
Robin sighed deeply, enjoying the peace of his bed for a moment longer before taking the first steps of the day. His head felt marginally better after splashing water on his face, combing out the tangles in his hair and putting on fresh clothes. At least to the casual observer he appeared awake. And hopefully not hungover. The components to his herbal concoction arrived and he mixed them together, downed it with a wince, and entered the long hall which lead to the council’s meeting chamber still tasting the fiery burn of cinnamon and the sharp tang of lemon.
It wasn’t that Robin forgot about his morning meeting with the wizened members of Ylisse’s governing body, it was just he had been incapable of refusing Chrom’s invitation last night. That wasn’t Robin’s first clue he was in over his head, or rather head over heels, where Chrom and his teasing smiles were concerned. There had been many signs over the past few months that his infatuation showed no hope in resolving itself anytime soon.
The tactician leaned against the decorative arch bracing the chamber door and rubbed his temples. He couldn’t possibly blame Chrom for something out of the man’s control, and Robin was absolutely certain Chrom had no idea how much he affected him. With a breathy inhale Robin pushed away from the wall and walked into the council chamber, purpose in his steps and sharp eyes moving from one wrinkled face to another. The council members regarded him neutrally, all except Senior Advisor Villus whose flat-lined lips and narrowed eyes telegraphed annoyance.
“I would ask what preparations could have possibly accounted for your tardiness, but I’m sure your brilliant answers to our inquiries will shed light on that matter?”
Robin offered the man a placating smile. “I know what you want Advisor Villus. There is no need to skirt the issue.”
Villus sputtered indignantly, tossing affronted glances around the room. He was the only one with ruffled feathers and, after obvious consideration, he decided to let Robin’s comment slide. “Then I assume you know how to get the Prince to stop dallying with his little army and do what needs to be done for the sake of the Halidom?”
“First off,” Robin began calmly, taking long strides around the room. “That little army just defeated Plegia, so I think the Shepherds deserve more respect. Secondly--”
Robin stopped at the back of the room, circle of expectant eyes watching his every move. “I think you know as well as I do that Lord Chrom will never accept a political marriage.”
Villus rolled his eyes and huffed, “Yes, we know that. Our question is how do we get him to marry at all? The Halidom needs an exalt and an heir. We will not allow yet another royal to remain unmarried and childless and thus leave our territories vulnerable to instability should something unseemly occur.”
Robin nodded thoughtfully. Though he didn’t like the Advisor much, the man had a point. If something were to happen to Chrom--martyring, self-sacrificing Chrom--then Ylisse would have only one option left, and Princess Lissa was too young and certainly not yet prepared for the burden of leadership. That would leave Ylisse weak and vulnerable to another attack, or even civil unrest. Chrom’s personal mission against the local banditry had the good consequence of showing his citizens they were safe and protected. They would never see Lissa as their protector, no matter how capable she had been on the battle front.
Villus was right. Chrom needed a legitimate heir, which was achieved by a legitimate marriage. A royal wedding would also be viewed as a significant sign of Ylisse’s growth and increasing stability. And the council was convinced only Robin could make that happen.
“I agree,” Robin said at last. “The princess is much too young, and the people don’t see her as an obvious protector of the Halidom. Prince Chrom’s marriage would become a symbol of hope.”
Everyone nodded in agreement.
“And?” Villus prompted impatiently. “Your solution?”
Robin didn’t actually have a solution. He couldn’t control Chrom’s will, nor did he want to. He could no more solve their problem than he could marry Chrom himself, so what he offered now was an actionable idea. It was better than Chrom’s exasperated frown anytime they broached the subject of celibacy in his presence.
“The Shepherds. There are eligible women in their ranks and many have powerful friendships with Prince Chrom already.”
As much as Villus didn’t like the Shepherds continued presence during Ylisse’s state of peace, even he had to admit there were women from noble houses that were marriage-material for a prince.
“And how do you propose we start? I assume Prince Chrom would sniff out any match-making on our behalf.”
“He opposed the idea in the past with other matches,” another council member added.
“He will know if you have your hand in something,” Robin agreed, “Which is why I am suggesting that Frederick and I handle the matter.”
“And you have no problem manipulating your precious comrades in arms?” Villus asked with an amused smile. “Those who blindly trust in your every word?”
It was clear to Robin, and probably no one else, that Villus questioned his loyalty to Ylisse. “You confuse manipulation with tactic. It is Prince Chrom who might not see the forest for its trees.”
Chrom wasn’t a fool, but he was unskilled in recognizing the affections of others. That was actually a good thing, otherwise Robin might be worried about Chrom realizing his best male friend found him attractive in more ways than one.
"Well, the young noble woman Maribelle is probably the most qualified of the lot. I suggest you start with her."
The way Villus said "qualified" made Robin's stomach turn. He might as well have said well-bred. It amounted to the same thing. Despite the obvious personality differences between Maribelle and Chrom, she was a good match. Loyal, caring--in her own way--diplomatic and Chrom's childhood friend.
"I shall start there," Robin announced, ignoring Villus’ self-satisfied smile. "Now if that will be all...?"
Villus cleared his throat noisily. "We expect progress reports on a weekly basis. If you really are the brilliant man everyone claims then I expect a royal wedding announcement this year."
Robin frowned. "I will not throw Chrom into a loveless marriage Senior Advisor, but rest assured I will put every effort into this." Robin would make the council’s request his personal mission, if for no other reason than ensuring Chrom’s happiness. Villus would have blithely decided Chrom’s life partner as if it was an agenda to fulfill, and Robin would never allow that to happen to his dearest friend.
The council seemed satisfied with Robin’s solution and eagerly awaited his first report. Villus’ beady eyes spoke of something other than satisfaction, but Robin didn’t feel like dissecting the man’s many unpleasant moods. He left the chamber and made way back to his quarters, intending to deliberate over the matter more thoroughly before calling Frederick. Robin wasn’t fluent in the unspoken language of the heart, but he knew the matter must be approached with utmost care. He loved all of his companions and didn't want to cause them pain. They were finally starting to adjust to life outside of constant warfare.
Watching Chrom fall in love with another would certainly crush Robin's heart, including the hope he kept stashed in the deepest recesses of his mind, but the continued happiness of his friends was a worthwhile sacrifice of the highest order.