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What would it have been like? To see them on the battlefield? Your own child. So young and yet so experienced. A product of war and hasty decisions.
Robin spent their days wondering, wondering about possibilities. About battles, about tactics, about the future. Who really knew what the future held?
Lucina seemed to know. As did the other children.
Children.
Robin glanced at the group of children (teenagers?) conversing by the stream.
One by one the Shepherds had grown in number as the children were found. Robin had made note of each child in their notebook, marking their name, location found, and parents. They opened the book and flipped through the pages, counting names as they went. Twelve children.
Twelve children had been found and saved. Twelve children had become attached to once dead parents. Twelve children had intended to save everyone from a future that may very well never happen.
And not one of those children was Robin's. They didn't want to admit they were upset; they really didn’t want to think about it. No child of Robin meant no child of Robin had to live through the hell the others did. But something didn't seem right. Still, maybe it was just one of those possiblities that just didn't work out in this timeline.
Besides, all of the children had parents. Plural. More than one. And Robin would've only been one. That was something they decided for themselves well over two years ago.
Robin opened their book to the next empty page and wrote "do not dwell" in the top left corner. The quill sliced through the paper from too much pressure, leaving indentions of "dwell" on several pages after.
Robin shut the book and sighed.
What would they have named their child? Something Ylissean? No, that didn't feel right. Plegian? Maybe. After a bird? Too predictable for a master tactician.
A master tactician who had no right to be considered so. A master tactician who failed when they were most needed.
Robin clenched and unclenched their fists. Their thoughts went in that direction too often now. They were being too negative. Maybe it was the whole being a vessel to Grima. Or maybe it was this war with Valm. Probably both.
Or did this have something to do with the children thing? Maybe. But there wasn't anything they could do about it. Time travel was unpredictable. And unpredictable things made Robin uncomfortable.
---
The Shepherds made it a point to swap stories around the campfire as often as possible. The stories ranged from Robin's first day in the barracks to Vaike's drinking parties to Miriel's dissertations. Everyone talked about everything, save for that three month gap between Emmeryn’s fall and Gangrel's defeat.
Robin was always thankful for that.
Tonight's story was a dramatic tale told by Virion, who could barely go two sentences without being interrupted by Cherche's clarifications. Gaius had started clapping about five minutes in, causing the rest of the Shepherds to join him and bring about an early end to Virion's story. He sat down in a huff as Gaius prepared his story, which he assured was about a legal activity for once.
Robin's eyes drifted from Gaius to the fire. The flames were small and friendly, a comforting flicker that cast everyone in a soft orange glow. A few fish roasted on a stick that Brady turned slowly as Severa talked and drew faces with furrowed eyebrows in the dirt.
Out of the corner of their eye, they caught Frederick lean near Chrom and whisper something. Chrom rolled his eyes, smiled and shooed the knight away, who sighed and returned to sharpening his lance.
Chrom caught sight of the tactician and waved in Robin's direction, catching them slightly off guard. Robin gave a half wave and a lopsided smile back but immediately returned to staring at the fire. Sumia and Cordelia had joined in on Gaius's story.
A slight breeze ruffled Robin's hair and cloak. They hoped he didn't notice them flinch as he sat down.
Chrom said some sort of greeting, but Robin only replied with a hum. They had started watching Cynthia and Owain hit each other with broken branches.
Chrom repeated whatever he had said before. Robin shrugged. Sumia started laughing at something Gaius had said about Cordelia.
Without thinking, Chrom rested his hand on Robin's shoulder. Robin snapped to attention and turned toward their commander, but their eyes remained distant. Lost in thought. That was happening far too often nowadays.
Chrom's expression flickered, a flash of concern momentarily covering his smile. Then he asked Robin a question.
A question. A fire. A story. A cloudless night. A waning moon.
Robin shut their eyes and shook their head. The same answer they had given him over two years ago.
Robin stood, Chrom's hand falling to his lap as they walked away. He felt a pang of familiarity.
The Shepherds erupted into applause as Gaius took a bow while Sumia and Cordelia laughed with him.
---
Children. The more Robin thought about it, the happier they were that they didn't have a child. What kind of parent would they really have been? An emotionally distant one, at best.
Besides, caring for children not even a decade younger than you are would be a little...awkward. And taxing.
They preferred watching the others grapple with parenthood. Some took to it naturally, like Sumia and Cordelia. Lissa, not so much.
But the kids didn't care. A clumsy, alive parent was leagues better than a dead one.
Besides, the kids were plenty independent. And they had each other. They were their own family, and they knew each other better than even their parents did.
It was that knowing friendship that caused Robin to think they might know something about another child. A lost member of their family. Robin finally worked up the nerve to ask Noire if there was another. Noire shook her head and said that there were only twelve kids.
But that never sat right with Robin.
---
Perhaps it was possible in another time. Another one of those overbearing and ever present possiblities.
Robin sat by the extinguished fire, clutching their legs to their chest. Clouds had begun to roll over camp and cover the glittering stars. The moon had disappeared.
Would things have been different if they had said yes when they had said no? If they had said no instead of yes? Would they have met the same people, befriended the same Shepherds, created the same memories?
Would they have been a different person?
Would they have walked into battle with a plan one day but walked out with a child? Would that child have been as afraid as Robin was? Would they have their same resolution? Their regret? Or would they have been a wide-eyed optimist?
Would that child push everyone away, just as Robin had done themselves?
Robin rubbed their eyes with the palm of their hand. They didn't have any answers. This wasn't a matter of logic; people weren't logical. That's why Robin always messed up with them. Too many possibilities. They needed to work on that. A tactician who had begun to fear possibilities couldn’t think clearly, couldn’t make the proper decision when it counted most.
Clumsy footsteps and the quiet whooshing of a cape made their way behind where Robin was sitting. Robin shut their eyes and remained still, hoping that he didn't notice that they were still awake, that they really weren’t okay like they always said.
Then silence. He stopped.
Robin almost wanted him to sit beside them and ask them something again. Something that wasn't related to war or battle or tactics. Something personal. Something like…
They might actually answer him this time.
But then the footsteps began receding, receding away from Robin. They let out a deep breath.
They were almost glad that the question had remained only a possibility.