Chapter Text
To say that Robin has been shaken up over this entire ordeal would be an understatement.
That man, Validar , had made a genuine attempt on the Exalt’s life. He used Plegian forces to do so, in the middle of the war. Who was he? Obviously a powerful dark mage, but from what Robin could find his name showed no history of being in Plegia’s military. Not one of the books of records they could find on Plegian generals held his name. So was he entirely unrelated? That or he is an extremely recent addition to their ranks, and ascended in power frighteningly quickly. Not only that, but the brief encounter shook Robin to the core. It was uncanny to the nth degree. But, his hands, his robes, everything about him screamed with the same imagery that was placard onto Robin’s skin and clothing. Those purple eyes, forever glaring at Robin. They worried that it gave them Plegian history.
They found a book in the market, thanks to a new friend made. Gaius was able to snag a tome about the Grimleal, featuring a symbol almost identical to the one tattooed on their hand. But they couldn’t just read this nonchalantly in their tent! What if they discover something… unsavory about the life they could not remember? They couldn't bear to look anyone in the eyes. So, they ventured into the woods surrounding the campsite they had made for the evening. Bringing nothing but a lantern, a sword, and the book they found a nice large elm to rest under. Positioning the lantern so that they could see the words on the page, they sit and begin to study the religion.
But one could hardly call it a religion. It was a cult. One hellbent on bringing the fell dragon back to this earth to plague it with destruction, despair, and dismay. Their stomach churned upon seeing sketches recovered from the Hero King’s own party depicting the foul beast, being praised for its glory and retribution of mankind. It detailed the Inquisitions of Plegia with Gangrel’s rise to power, the Rite of the Dragon’s table, and with every page showed purple eyes staring into Robin’s soul. It made them nauseous. But then, the next passage… The Fellblood. The mark of Grima was once again depicted, but depicted to be on human skin, similar to the exalt’s brand. Robin glanced to their hand, only illuminated by the brief light of sunset poking through the elm leaves and their lantern. The Brand of Grima, just like on the page. It was on their hand, wasn’t it?
“Robin, what are you doing all the way out here?” Looking up from the book they were reading, well, attempting to read was Lissa, peering through the trees with a furrowed brow and her hands on her hips. “You know Chrom has been looking for you forever! He has everyone scouring the entirety of camp and it’s really annoying.” Ah , of course . Their head lowered.
“Apologies, Lissa. I just wanted a change of scenery for my reading this evening.” The pitiful excuse was followed by the closing of their book, their arms covering the cover in a not-so-subtly fashion. “I can head back to camp if-”
“Nope! Not buying it!” Lissa promptly sat herself next to Robin under the elm tree, her dress puffing up and ruffling with her brash movements. She peered over their shoulder. “What are we reading? Something something war tactics or whatever?” She pushed Robin's sleeves out of the way to see the cover, and froze once she saw the eyes staring back at her. “Oh.”
“I was trying to see what this mark on my hand meant and how it related to the Grimleal, since the Plegian Mages wear it on their uniforms.” They quickly explain, hoping that she wouldn’t take this to mean they were doubting the cause of Ylisse. “I was also trying to see if I could use any background information about the Grimleal religion to our advantage, of course! It all relates to the war effort in the end and-” They were quickly interrupted by Lissa looking up at them, and shaking her head. They bit their tongue.
Lissa’s hand pushed Robin’s arms completely off the book, snagging from their loose grasp and taking it into her lap. Opening it up, she happens upon the page Robin ended on. The page about the Fellblood. Lissa’s expression lost its natural whimsy and cheekiness, instead falling into a very neutral frown. Her fingers lingered over the brand of Grima shown to be on the original fellblood’s shoulder, just like Chrom’s brand of the exalt is. The brand of Naga. Robin feels the rush of shame run through their blood up to their face. They instinctively hide their hands in their sleeves, covering the one with the brand up with the other. Lissa, once again, looked up at Robin.
“Robin…” Her voice was filled with pity, and they hated it. “You don’t actually think you’re…” She couldn’t bring herself to say it, and they both knew it. “I mean, there’s no way! With everything you’ve done for me and Chrom thus far- and Emm! You’re not one of them. You hear me?” She wagged a finger in their face, puffing up her cheeks into a pout. With her other hand, she slammed the book closed and pushed it off to the side; out of sight, out of mind. “You’re our tactician, not theirs, so don’t you even think about the idea, okay?”
“But we can’t ignore the fact that I have the brand-” They began, but were loudly shush ed and had hands covering their mouth that were not their own.
“No buts!” Lissa quickly exclaimed, hand pressing into Robin’s lips to muffle all sounds of contradiction. “You are not that. I don’t care about what you could have been before we met you. You’re the Robin that is here now . And this Robin is my friend. So shut up about all that Grimleal nonsense, okay?’ Her hands lowered weakly, and she forced a melancholy smile. “You’re our Robin. Not theirs.”
Robin weakly smiled with her, finding some comfort in her words. But the anxiety that always ran in the back of their mind, the analytical side that craved answers, logic, planning, and the like still churned. But, at least for Lissa, they can put it aside for now. “Alright. I’m your Robin, not theirs.”
“Good!” She exclaimed, all melancholy leaving her grin. “Now, since Frederick has been a jerk recently, I was thinking we could fill his tent up with frogs! But to get so many frogs in his tent in such a short time, I’m going to need someone to help me carry them. You in?” She waggled her eyebrows, cheesing her biggest, toothiest smile she could conjure. She leaned in, going so far as to bat her pretty eyelashes at them. They couldn’t help but roll their eyes at her exaggerated behavior. “Come on! Please?” She whined as their eyes rolled. “I promise it will cheer you up!”
With a sigh, Robin nodded. She allowed Lissa to grab their arm and hoist them up along with her, extremely excited. She started running towards the nearest pond, dragging Robin by the wrist behind her. She didn’t bother lifting her dress, the dewy grass and mud below lining the hem of her skirt. The lantern that Robin had and the book they were reading were quickly left behind in Lissa’s haste, soon far away. Out of sight, out of mind. But as Robin struggled to keep up with Lissa’s uneven running pace, they couldn’t help but stare at the tattoo on their hand. The one bouncing in and out of sight with their sleeve’s erratic movement from running. The one that tied to that tome.
What would Chrom think of them if he found out that they used to be Grimleal? Or at least had very strong evidence that they could have been Grimleal before they lost all their memories. They would lose the little trust they have built with Frederick, they would be scorned by the rest of the Shepherds they have grown to love and see as a ragtag family. And Lissa… She just wanted to ignore it. To pretend it was never there. Was that really the way to go about this? What if their past hurts everyone in some way? Hurts Chrom? Hurts her ? Would negligence be warranted then? It terrified them to know what they could have been before this new life they were granted, and it terrified them more knowing that if they never woke up in that grassy plain that they could be the one at the other side of Chrom’s Falchion, fighting for Plegia and the Grimleal themself.
Lissa stopped running, and Robin nearly ran into her without much thought. They were lucky to notice her slowing down and to follow suit, taking themself out of their train of thought. There was a pond before her, and she crouched down effortlessly. Robin took a knee next to her. She seemed so happy, without a care in the world. Boundless and full of joy. The envy robin has for that level of carefreeness was unhealthy. But… There was also admiration there. For her optimism, for her trust, and for the great width her heart encompasses. Without bothering to roll her sleeves up, she plugged her arms into the pond. Without needing a second try, she procured a frog in her hands. It was small, bumpy, and hard to see in the newfound darkness. The stars above and the moon were the only sources of light, and it reflected gorgeously against the water surface… and on Lissa’s complexion.
“This one should be good, a little tiny though.” Lissa inspected the frog, holding it up and looking at it from several angles. “I don’t think it’ll scare Frederick very much. We need a bigger one.”
“Or, he would be very easy to hide in a small crevice.” Robin offered, playing into her mischief. “A few more small ones and we can easily fit them into his shoes or something silly like that.” The way her face lit up from the idea, why did Robin’s heart skip a beat.
“Oooh! Great idea!” She shoved the tiny frog into one of the many pockets on her clerical dress, now deciding to roll up her sleeves. “How many are we thinking? Four? Five? This is going to be so fun!” She practically squealed with excitement as she spoke, already plunging her bare arms back into the water to fish for more amphibians. “He’s going to be pranked so good! This is going to be great, Robin!”
And in this moment, they found themself smiling. Sitting next to Lissa in the break of night, digging around in puddles for frogs with Lissa in childish fun, was exactly what they needed. Maybe their past doesn’t matter quite so much when they are sitting here now . Fighting now for what is right, for Ylisse, for Chrom, and for Lissa as well. Their past doesn’t matter when they are here, spending time with one of their favorite people in the world. She shimmies her arms around, feeling the grass and silt below, fingers digging for slimy, bumpy skin that could be hidden beneath the water. She was so focused on her task that her eyes shone with the specks of stars and the great big light of the moon. Her eyes were the night sky, deep and blue, reflecting the stars back at Robin. She was right. They are her Robin, and their past does not matter.
Rolling up their own sleeves, they glance at their tattoo once more. Then, they plunge their own hands into the water.