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Robin was not human. This was an objective fact.
Perhaps she could appear human from a distance, if one were looking at her from their periphery whilst distracted. She had a human face, had arms and legs that articulated similarly to that of a human's, but the similarities ended there. Anyone without their vision impaired could plainly see that she was something else.
A glaring difference that one would notice first would probably be her horns. Rather outlandish appendages that framed a head that might otherwise pass as human if she were to be viewed from the shoulders up. Another obvious give away would be her tail. She was mindful not to let the long, reptilian extremity of hers get in the way of others, but she had still been repeatedly told that it tended to snare attention even if she took care not to let anyone trip over it.
Although even if her limbs and torso were human in shape, she was quite obviously not human in make. Humans were creatures of flesh and bone. Organisms that lived and breathed. Robin did not satisfy those parameters.
She was an android— as what they had taken to referring to her as— which was an unusual thing to be. Supposedly, androids were a thing of speculative fiction, or an ambitious inventor's yet unrealized masterpiece. But she was no modern miracle or recent innovation.
She was… well, they didn't know, really. Robin didn't have that information either. Though she had been briefed on the facts of her discovery by the Shepherds.
Apparently, they found her in a hole. A cavern so long buried and forgotten by time it was barely visible on the ground's surface. Risen were crawling out of it, however, so when nearby villagers called for the problem to be dealt with, the Shepherds had to brave its unexpected depths in order to get to the root of the problem.
What they found after crawling through the undead infested tunnels was a ruin so ancient as to predate the kingdom that predated their kingdom, and Robin laying deactivated in a chamber.
"Deactivated" was perhaps too soft a word for the state they found her in. She was splayed on her back on a slab, like an altar, with her chest pried open and her innards ripped out of her body.
A gruesome sight, if she were in possession of blood and organs. As it was, all she needed was someone with the knowledge and expertise to put her wires back in place and reinstall her core. Chrom did just that, and thus Robin awakened to what became her first memory.
That of Chrom hunched over her, his face inches from her own as he stared at her with wide-eyed wonder. Then his gaze was torn away by the sudden cacophony of gurgling growls. He stood, drawing a glowing sword to defend her from the onslaught of Risen that had stirred just as she did.
At that moment, Robin obtained her second memory, surfacing from the wells of her own database.
She was designed for this.
Robin had stood then, registering the shocked noises from the humans surrounding her as her core hummed to life. The Risen were crawling from every crevice and tunnel in a malicious flood of undead, but she was primed to engage with the threat.
She conducted an environmental scan, a pulse of electricity mapping out every inch and occupant of the entire cavern within a fraction of a second. The gears within her shifted as she entered combat mode. The activity of her core intensified, rising to a buzz that sent lightning coursing through her wires and out of her clawed hands.
Each part of her was a weapon. From a body of impenetrable alloys and sharp edges, to the volatile magic that powered her, right down to operating systems programmed for warfare. She was a vessel of destruction.
The Shepherds hardly needed to bother themselves. Robin sprung forth and did what she was built to do.
With the Risen eliminated, she was left standing there, motionless amongst the smoke and splattered remains. She was designed for battle, but she had no protocol for anything beyond it.
The Shepherds decided to take her back with them and Robin complied. Machines were built for a purpose, after all. If combat was her purpose, then she would dedicate herself to being the sharpest tool in their arsenal.
They reacted differently to welcoming a weapon into their midst. Frederick was wary of her capabilities and alignment. Miriel wanted to pick her apart to analyze what she was made of. Most of the others, however, didn't quite grasp her nature. Chrom would be the biggest offender in that regard.
He had granted her a room in the barracks. A sentimental gesture that was more symbolic than practical. Robin didn't need to sit or lie down when she entered sleep mode. She had no personal belongings in need of storage either. Her mechanical shell was already designed with the semblance of clothes, neutralizing any need for a wardrobe. Even her power core was all the fuel and ammunition she needed. The arcane lightning roiled in a perpetual storm inside her; rest was only required to keep her hardware from overheating.
There was nothing she could do in that room but idle. It would be more appropriate to store her in the armory with all the other weapons. She might even get more done as she could use the time to do maintenance and take inventory. Not lay in a bed when she received no benefit from its softness.
Robin hadn't set foot in that room since Chrom first introduced her to it, though she might reconsider if only to appease him. He was constantly asking her if it was to her liking. The question was inapplicable, and each modification he made did not make it any more practical a residence.
Most of her vacant periods were spent in the command room. It was where the Shepherds decided their plan of action, thus Robin determined it to be her most optimized quarters. She whiled away the hours pouring over their intelligence, storing them in her own memory banks to peruse and analyze.
At the moment, she was formulating new strategies for the Shepherds. They gained additional recruits in the recent weeks, which opened possibilities for new tactics, as well as new weaknesses she should account for. As she was in the middle of tabulating these, Chrom entered the room.
She kept her eyes on the screen, but his figure registered in her proximity sensors and she could tell it was him without accommodating him in her field of vision.
"Greetings, Captain."
"Hello, Robin," he greeted back, moving to hover by her shoulder.
From the relaxed rate of his heart, he didn't appear to have anything of urgent need, but it was still polite to ask. "Do you require my assistance?"
"Not at all." He looked over at the screens in front of her, leaning in to read a few for himself. "How long have you been working on this?"
"Ten hours and forty-three minutes," she replied. "Before you ask, I have indeed taken sufficient time for repose."
"Sufficient?" Chrom echoed skeptically.
"An hour exactly."
"You know, humans sleep for much longer than that."
There he went again.
"I am not human," she reminded him, spinning her chair to fix him with a stern look. "And I do not share your requirements."
"That is true," he mused, scratching the back of his neck as he regarded her. Sheepish, yet something sly twinkled in his eyes. "You might not be human, but you lead humans. Don't you?"
"Affirmative."
"Surely you can find some tactical benefits to immersing yourself in the human lifestyle?" He smiled knowingly. "A captain must understand his people. A tactician should too."
Robin narrowed her eyes. "I understand humans well enough. I know your necessities, and I have catalogued every individual Shepherd's specific—"
"Yes, yes, you're very thorough," Chrom interrupted, humor lightening the impatience in his voice. "But there's a lot more to us than numbers on a spreadsheet. You'll miss the bigger picture if you don't open your mind to what you don't know."
That gave her pause. It was true that there was much about humanity that went far beyond her ken. She could identify every single molecule that made up a person and it would still be impossible for her to reconstruct them from base elements. Organic matter alone could not account for a human being's aspirations, their memories, the bonds they formed.
All the things a non-living machine like her couldn't possibly comprehend.
"I apologize," Robin said quietly. "I'm afraid I'm not equipped for this."
"Not by holing up in here, you're not." He chuckled, then extended his hand to her. "Join me for a walk around the city. I think you'll surprise yourself."
She eyed him pensively. Chrom smiled as he held his hand aloft, open and inviting. Then his gaze lowered to something near the floor as his lips stretched wider.
It was only then that Robin realized that the tip of her tail was flicking. She willed it to still.
"Very well, Captain," she acquiesced, placing her hand in his as she rose from her seat. "I will accompany you."
His smile strained a little. "There's no need to keep calling me by my rank. Chrom is fine."
"Is that an order?"
"No," he pouted. "Just… a request from a friend."
"Many of your friends refer to you as 'Captain'," Robin pointed out.
"That's— nevermind." He sighed, running his free hand through his hair while holding hers tightly in the other. "Come on, let's just go."
The morning sun shone upon the gleaming city of Ylisstol as they exited the palace gates. The well-paved sidewalks teamed with bustling citizens as vehicles passed in the roads between. All the while, Chrom had kept her hand in his as they slipped into the crowds.
Robin didn't mind. His was a grounding presence as she recalibrated her sensors to account for the sudden influx of stimuli. The capital was a bombardment of signals, not unlike a battlefield, and she had to remind herself to refrain from entering combat mode.
"What is our objective?"
Chrom had Falchion strapped to his belt, but that didn't necessarily indicate that he was expecting battle. The plasma-infused blade may as well be a part of him, just as Robin's own weapons were inextricable from her. Regardless of what faced them in this excursion, she was prepared for anything at the shift of a gear.
He laughed. "No objectives today. Unless there was something that you wanted to see?"
"You're the one who wished to walk around Ylisstol," she pointed out.
"And we are doing a wonderful job of it, if I do say so myself."
He certainly had that air of satisfaction she associated with a mission accomplished… only there wasn't a mission. He strolled languidly through the streets, sparing an occasional nod to the guards and citizens that greeted him, but nothing of particular import seemed to catch his eye.
The crowds became denser as he led them into the marketplace. Robin curled her tail around herself to keep it from interfering with the civilians. Chrom went on higher alert as well, his gaze sweeping over the different stalls in the plaza.
"Are you searching for something?" Robin asked, different lenses already clicking in and out of place behind her eyes in anticipation of whatever he may need.
"Just looking around," he said amiably, giving her hand a brief squeeze. "You should see if something catches your fancy, too."
Difficult as Chrom was insisting on being, analysis was one of her greatest strengths. She tracked the movement of his eyes, his gait, compared the durations of where his attention lingered, identified all the things that gave him pause.
At times, he would simply stop and look at her, but she refused to budge until he gave up and resumed browsing.
Her efforts proved successful as a pattern became apparent. "Are you hungry?"
Chrom blinked, as if taken aback by her observation. He might've not realized it himself, but he'd been drawn toward the food stalls as they explored the market.
"I suppose I'm a bit peckish," he admitted. "I only got a quick bite before my morning training. I completely forgot about breakfast when I noticed you were in the command room."
"Then we should acquire sustenance," Robin declared, pleased that she found a directive.
"Oh, alright then."
He was strangely reluctant, which had her wary that she might be missing something. Though she was confident in her assessment, so it might simply be a matter of being more specific in her goal. She narrowed her search for food that suited his tastes.
It was the meats that had caught his attention the most as they passed. From sausage links that hung like banners above the stalls, to trays lined with cured and smoked slices. That corroborated with her own data on Chrom's preferences. His favorite would be grilled bear, however that particular meat seemed to be unfortunately unavailable here.
Settling for the closest alternative, Robin activated her thermal vision to locate every grill in the vicinity and led him to the one that had the widest assortment. Accomplishment sparked in her core as Chrom picked up the pace, only to be snuffed by his next words.
"That smells delicious!"
She abruptly stumbled. Her gears stuttered, catching in a non-existent mode between activity and combat, internal fans whirring in preparation to mobilize. Though this was a problem she didn't have the tools to fix.
A machine did not need the ability to smell or taste. The smoke billowed in orange and yellow clouds in her infrared sensors but she had no means of breathing it in or taking in its scent. No means to comprehend the eagerness in Chrom's eyes or the way he licked his lips.
Robin was not human. This was beginning to vex her for reasons she couldn't place.
She heard the shriek before she felt the impact. Her tail had somehow unwound itself and swept behind her, smacking into an unfortunate civilian's ankles and causing him to tumble into the pavement.
"I apologize!" She hastily helped the man to his feet.
"Watch where you're going, you— you…?" The man's enraged expression quickly morphed into confusion, and then he paled.
He wrenched himself out of Robin's grasp and bowed stiffly in her general direction. "Ah, pardon me. Your Highness."
As she watched the man hurry off, Chrom's hands settled on her shoulders, turning her gently to face him. "Robin, are you alright?"
"I-I apologize…" she repeated feebly, her cognitive processes buffering.
He moved an arm to her waist, mindful of the vents at her back, and ushered her away from the grills. "C'mere, let's get you out of the smoke."
"That can't be it. I can withstand much higher temperatures than this," she tried to insist. Yet her fans were still spinning against all logic. "B-but, your food!"
"I can eat something else, don't worry about me."
He didn't stop until the cook fires were far behind them. Their heat was a distant beacon in her eyes, and she wondered if Chrom could still smell it. She disengaged her thermal vision and her fans soon stopped.
"Feeling better?" He had pulled away, but not entirely so— the tips of his fingers still brushing at her side.
"My systems appear to be in order," she frowned, not mentioning that she failed to identify what caused the issue to begin with. She was already displeased with herself and she didn't want to detract further from the objective. "Shall we return for your sustenance?"
He snorted. "No thanks. Let's just grab something quick and head back."
They had wandered into the produce section of the market and Chrom went to a vendor to purchase a basket of fruit. He bit into an apple as he turned to leave, the action appearing so natural and effortless on his part, yet Robin was enraptured.
She could detect the crunch of his teeth cutting into the apple, observe the movements of his jaw as he chewed on it, see the way his lips glistened from its juice. But she didn't even have the imagination to speculate on how differently Chrom must be able to experience it in ways she could not.
"Uh, are you sure you're alright?" he asked suddenly, wiping his mouth with the back of his glove. "You've been staring at me a lot. I mean, not that that's so strange for you, but somehow it feels different now. Is there something on my face?"
"What does that taste like?" she was compelled to ask.
He turned the apple over in his hand, humming. "It's rather sweet."
"How does 'sweet' taste?"
His brows lifted as though he never considered it before. "It's… pleasant?" He shrugged, perplexed, and then his gaze met hers and something seemed to solidify in his eyes.
"It's a… a sugary flavor that appeals to a lot of people, like children," he explained. "Or Gaius."
Robin filed this in her memory, perusing her own data on Gaius for reference. "So it tastes like candy?"
"Not quite. Candy tends to be sweeter since it's pure sugar. Apples taste milder because—" he took another bite, chewing thoughtfully as though he could extract the information from its pulp. "It's fruit sugar, I suppose."
She eyed the rest of the fruits in the basket. "Do all of these taste like fruit sugar?"
Chrom frowned, his expression tightening as if he found himself on the back foot in a battle. "To an extent? They all taste differently, though… because they're different fruits."
"What does this one taste like?" She pointed to an orange.
He chuckled wryly. "You know, there's an adage about not comparing these two in particular."
Picking up the orange, he bit into it only to immediately recoil, spitting.
Robin stepped closer, alarmed but unsure how to assist. Had the orange been poisoned? Rotten? "Are you alright, Captain?!"
"I'm fine!" His cheeks flushed as he waved off her concern. "I just forgot to peel it. You're not supposed to eat the skin, it's bitter."
"And 'bitter' is repulsive?"
"To most people, yes."
This was pertinent information for Robin. Chrom had spoken true in his assessment that she needed a deeper understanding of humans if she were to serve them efficiently. There was an incident when Sully had requested for her to take over her shift at the mess tent. Despite Robin's rigorous efforts to ensure the food had the correct amount of calories and nutrients, the Shepherds barely ate it on account of its supposed flavor.
Determined to remedy the gaps in her knowledge, she made sure to observe the process as closely as possible.
Chrom had removed his gloves to peel the orange. Robin found herself strangely transfixed by the movements of his hands. She already knew he was a skilled mechanic, and had seen him do more complex work than this, yet she couldn't stop herself from leaning in to watch him gently take the fruit apart.
Bright orange skin gave way to a pale, thready covering that gave way to the edible segments within. Chrom's fingers— that were so deft and steady when handling tools— trembled as he took out a slice and held it to his lips.
He hesitated, and Robin's eyes flicked between the piece of fruit and Chrom's own gaze as he stared back at her. She didn't realize how closely she had been watching, she'd need only to lean forward a few more inches and she'd be able to take the fruit in her own mouth.
An absurd thought. It would only be wasted on her.
"Are you not going to eat that?" she asked.
Redness had crept across his cheeks and over his ears. Robin's own sensors corroborated that his body temperature and heart rate were elevated, though she couldn't determine the cause.
His throat bobbed at her question, and he placed the fruit in his mouth in lieu of a response.
Robin observed him carefully. His vital signs were indicating a mild level of distress, but not yet to the point of alarm. She kept her concern in check while she continued to monitor his condition. Although she had a more pressing question as she stared at his mouth.
"How does it taste?"
"It's— it's like…" Chrom stammered around the orange, his face flushing even darker. He swallowed thickly.
Just as she was considering if medical attention was required, he suddenly spoke in a hoarse whisper. "Maybe I can show you."
Before she could react, his hand cupped the back of her head and his lips slotted into hers.
Robin was too perplexed to move. Perhaps Chrom was hoping to give her a more practical demonstration, but it was unfortunately lost to her. She still didn't have the receptors to process flavor.
While she couldn't taste, she could detect the heat radiating off of him, she could feel the pressure of his fingers curling in her hair and his tongue pressing against her mouth. He pulled her closer, imploring. Her lips parted, indulging him despite the impossibility of his intentions. Twining his tongue with hers wouldn't grant her the experience of having tasted an orange.
Though his actions didn't give her the information she sought, it still seemed to have… an effect on her. At first she thought it was just Chrom's rising body temperature, confusing her thermal sensors as his warmth enveloped her from the inside out. Then her fans slowly began to spin, steadily picking up speed until it was whirring even faster than it had at the grills earlier. Before she knew it, even her core was crackling with unexpected intensity.
The overwhelming sensations left her paralyzed, and it wasn't until steam hissed out from the gaps in her horns that her most basic directive forced her into action.
Protect Chrom at all costs.
She shoved him away from her before he could get scalded by the dispelled heat.
Chrom stumbled back, a plethora of emotions that Robin couldn't possibly comprehend shifting across his features in a matter of seconds. His expression was slack at first, eyes half closed and mouth still open as he was abruptly pushed away, then his whole posture tightened as he spluttered, the color draining from his face.
"Gods, Robin, I'm so so sorry! I-I didn't mean to— I mean, I don't know what came over me—"
Her whole system was set to overdrive. Her core flooded her wires with enough energy to raze an army, making her extremities twitch from the tips of her fingers all the way down to her lashing tail. Her sensors were enabled at a heightened capacity, rapid fire signals crowding her memory all at once, faster than she could hope to process them. She couldn't even make any sense of whatever Chrom was trying to tell her.
"I think," she gasped, "I'm malfunctioning."
Chrom halted his frenetic motions for a second as he stared at her, eyes getting impossibly wider. The next thing Robin knew, he had thrown her over his shoulders and was sprinting all the way back to the garrison.
By the time he kicked open the door to the workshop, he was red in the face and drenched in sweat. He set her down carefully on the table, bracing his arms on either side of her as he panted raggedly for breath.
"Robin—" a gulp of air, the blue of his eyes as dark as a storm. "… What… what's wrong?"
Her cognitive functions went from overloaded to completely blank. "Huh?"
Chrom stepped back, picking up a towel and wiping off his perspiration. It was rare to see him this winded, strong and fit as he was. Though she couldn't blame him after running that distance at full throttle while carrying her. The material she was made of was relatively lightweight compared to most other metals of military grade, but she was still much heavier than a human of her size would be.
The short breather was enough for the both of them to get their bearings. Robin's processes slowly returned to their normal function as Chrom pulled up a chair to sit before her.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, resting a hand on her knee while the other flipped open a tool box beside him.
Robin frowned as she ran a diagnostic on herself. "Systems appear to be approaching equilibrium and will be in order shortly. Although I failed to pinpoint what caused the disturbance…"
Based on the time of occurrence, Chrom placing his mouth on hers seemed to be the inciting incident, but that offered little to no explanation. She was sufficiently waterproof and could even drink various fluids if she were in need of a coolant. Human saliva and orange juice shouldn't be able to impair her, certainly not so severely. Moreover, even feverish temperatures by human standards were far below her threshold of heat tolerance as a weapon built to conduct lightning.
Even her internal sensors couldn't detect anything amiss, though perhaps therein lied the problem…
"A more thorough inspection may be required," she told him, willing the panel on her chest to unlatch and prying it open.
She expected Chrom to get straight to work, however he remained where he was, motionless despite the tools at his side. His brows furrowed.
"What is it?" Robin tilted her head.
Maintenance wasn't anything unusual between them. In fact, there was practically an unspoken agreement that Chrom was the only one in charge of her care. It wasn't that she didn't trust the other Shepherds with her repairs, but as seriously as she took the role to look after them, she didn't give anyone else the opportunity to do the same to her. It was only in times like these, when they were alone in whatever their designated command room or garage was, that he would sit her down and ensure she was in good condition.
There was something familiar about it too. Since Chrom had been the one to activate her the day she was discovered, it was only sensible that she would rely on him to keep her running.
Chrom spoke up, pulling her from her thoughts. "I just don't want to overstep…"
"How could you possibly overstep?" The very notion was utterly illogical.
He pursed his lips, evidently conflicted even as he picked up a power probe. "After what happened earlier, I don't want to hurt you."
"Of course you can't—"
She meant to refute him, but then his hand brushed against her wires and she jolted from the contact, her words dissolving in a garbled noise as her vocal processes glitched.
"ROBIN?!" He immediately retracted his hands, which clenched and unclenched as he looked her over, stricken. "Are you alright?!"
"Yes, I'm fine," she said, debatable as that statement was. "I… I just forgot to disable my internal sensors…"
Chrom looked even more distressed. "This whole time you can feel that? And it hurts?!"
"Don't be ridiculous, machines don't feel pain." She shook her head vehemently. "It's just a warning signal in case of damage or foreign bodies. Besides, I can disable it for procedures like this. I don't understand how I forgot to do something so rudimentary."
"Okay." He nodded slowly as he went back into position in front of her. "Are you ready now?"
"Yes, you may proceed."
He watched her face carefully before inspecting her circuits. From what she could see of the movement of his shoulders, he was being particularly gentle with his handling. An unnecessary precaution as she had removed all internal sensation. Though now a part of her wondered how it would feel if she hadn't…
Robin blinked, mystified at her own thoughts. What has gotten into her? Perhaps the issue was in her very programming and she should make Chrom assess her code instead of her hardware.
It was then that Chrom leaned back, putting his tools away and delicately reaffixing her panel. "Everything seems to be in order, but I do have a hunch as to why you've been acting odd."
She was about to offer her own suspicions regarding her code when his words gave her pause. "What is it?"
He rose from his seat, his lips stretching into something of a smirk as that twinkle from earlier shone in his eyes again. "You're not getting enough rest."
"Excuse me?" she scowled. "I thought I told you that I don't require—"
Chrom forged on blithely. "If you kept an engine running, all day, everyday, for the past… oh, I don't know… several months. Would you think that a single hour of daily rest is sufficient to keep that engine in optimal condition?"
"… No." She scowled, tail lashing. "But I am no mere engine."
"I know you aren't, Robin," he clasped her hands in his own, leaning in until his forehead nearly touched hers. "You are far more special than that, and that's exactly why you should be taking better care of yourself. You are… incredibly precious. You know that, right?"
She fell still. As intense as his gaze on her was, somehow it was the strong and steady beat of his heart that left her stunned.
He raised a critical point, however. It was true that Robin was a unique model. Everything from her material components to the strange power she ran on remained a mystery even to the brightest of Ylisse's engineers. If any part of her were to get damaged, they would be unable to procure an exact replacement, and her function could be permanently compromised.
"I see your point," she acquiesced.
"I'm glad." His smile softened as he pulled her to her feet. "Now, come."
The workshop wasn't far from the barracks, and it didn't take long for Chrom to escort her to her room. He opened the door and beckoned her inside, heat staining his cheeks. "I do hope it's to your liking…"
Robin had heard of the improvements he'd been allegedly making to her room, but it was only now that she was entering it since he'd shown her the standard soldier's quarters all those months ago. The sight took her aback.
It was certainly more colorful than it was when she first saw it. Curtains, rugs, and even tapestries filled the room with brilliant hues of purple, blue, and gold. It was also more cluttered than before. The shelves were laden with trinkets and books, and racks lined with weapons and staves had even been brought in.
What shocked her most was the photographs. Many of the pictures featured herself, but while she never realized her photo had been taken, she did recognize the events that were captured within.
She picked up a picture frame that was on the desk, containing the image of her and Chrom on a beach. Neither of them were facing the camera, attention trained on the bold letters he had etched into the sand. His expression was flush with the heat of summer and an unsteady grin.
At the time, Robin was just bewildered that he'd go out of his way to show her how to have "fun" in the middle of active combat. Now, however, something flickered within her core and it almost felt as if she might understand what had driven him to do that.
"You did this?" Her voice came out hushed as she beheld the room.
Chrom chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "I couldn't have done it by myself; the rest of the Shepherds pitched in too. I'm not the only one who's grateful for all you do for us."
"Everyone?" she murmured in disbelief.
"That's right, so you better start using this room or else our hard work will just go to waste!" He placed his hands on her shoulders. "Get some rest, alright?"
"I will," she promised even as she was still reeling from all the details. "Thank you, Chrom."
He grinned like the summer sun as he gave her shoulders a parting squeeze. "Sleep well, Robin."
With that, he took his leave and she was left in a room of her own. She hesitantly sat on the bed, the mattress sinking beneath her weight, then gingerly lowered herself until she was lying on her back. It was a strange position, and one she hadn't been in since she was first activated.
A part of her was troubled by the notion. As if by resting— by fully powering down instead of merely entering sleep mode— she might awaken as disoriented as she had back then, emptied of any prior existence. Then again, in a room that was brimming with mementos of the Shepherds and the time she spent with them, even she found it unlikely that she would so suddenly forget.
As Robin closed her eyes and drifted off, she couldn't help but wonder if it would be Chrom she would wake up to again.