Artwork credit goes to Tusia (tumblr) and FutatsunoKaanjitsu (deviantart)! If you haven't seen their stuff, it's pretty amazing to check out.

Robin scrambled forward, catching himself on an arm as he skid around a thick pillar. A wall of black fire swept past him, catching his cloak as he called for help.

"Chrom, could use a hand–!"

Swords were clashing before he could finish. Robin grunted and rose, wiping the blood from the cut across his forehead before it reached his eyes.

Validar stepped away from Chrom's assault, tiring his opponent by swinging at air. The younger man panted heavily, too slow to bring Falchion back up and the tall man appeared before him, smiling like a serpent as the curved dagger plunged.

Chrom fell back as Validar was tackled from the side, dagger skittering away as Robin brought his pommel down, hitting any part of the thin body he could find under the robes. Validar's resistance became feeble, one groping arm coming up reflexively to stop the attack. Robin rose, looking to Chrom who nodded grimly and turned away as Robin brought the sword down a final time.

The man died with a hiss, lips curving as he stared hungrily at Robin. His head fell back, pupils dilating as Chrom looked towards the dissipating arcane barrier.

Robin let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. It was over. Grima's plots had been...

Validar's body shuddered. Twitching, limbs locking out and curling. Robin knew death throes. They didn't look like this. He looked to Chrom who was busy calling to their forces in the great hall. Something grabbed his ankle and he lurched away unable to break free. The entirety of Validar's eyes were blood red, staring at him as his hand glowed briefly.

Robin was overcome by a sense of calm. He stepped out of Validar's lifeless grip to retrieve the curved dagger as the body behind him went limp. Felt his temple. The cut was gone.

"We did it, Robin!... We won!"

Chrom's voice swam through his thoughts like molasses, overshadowed by the heartbeat-pulse that shuddered his vision.

Thum-thump.

Some distance away other Shepherds caught sight of their victory, cheering as they cut through the last of the Grimleal. Both sides began fighting with renewed vigor, last resistance of the enemy screaming nonsense of resurrection and dying by the dragon's side.

Robin's eyes cast down to his hands, flexing them through his gloves. He recognized a strong grip, conditioned arms.

Thum-thump.

"Robin!" He was spun around before Chrom embraced him, holding his shoulders tightly and laughing. Upon parting Chrom looked into his best friend's eyes, frowning.

"...You okay?"

With agonizing swiftness the dagger thrust into Chrom's heart.

The man didn't react. His cautious smile faltered, looking down, then back to Robin. His mouth opened but didn't seem to know what to say, grip on Robin's shoulders growing lax.

He slumped forward.

"Chrom!"

"Father!"

"No!"

Voices shouted behind Robin but his focus was on the man in his arms. Making sure he died as the knife twisted before yanking free to maximize blood flow. This was the way things were meant to be, to ensure the beginning of the end. And as Chrom's focus began to slide, eyes glazing over an expression of confusion and disbelief, Robin knew everything would be just fine.

He closed his eyes, hearing Frederick's swift boot strides behind him.

Everything would be just fine.

Robin opened his eyes again. The cathedral walls were gone, replaced by roiling black clouds that spanned the endless sky. Thunder boomed and he took a step forward, boot meeting crunching bone. He looked out, from his boot to the flat horizon in every direction seeing nothing but human bodies in various stages of decay. No flies. No crows. Nothing interrupted the stillness.

The way things were meant to be... Except...

A faint thought scratched at the back of his omniscience. Somewhere, some... Time, a world was waking up. Machinations put into motion to end this world. His world. Machinations he had to crush.

A quiet thud hit his boot and he looked down. Dark crimson ran from sole onto bone. Another hit a skull nearby, then his forehead. He looked out again. There was work to be done, and now he had his army.

He trudged towards a red dawn, rain of blood soaking into his robes as bodies began shifting behind him like ripples across a still lake.

Robin awoke with a gasp, staring past the pillow as his eyes focused on the far side of the tent. He inhaled deeply, not moving as he closed his eyes again. The dream had been haunting him for months. In the beginning it was only distant voices, vague shapes, bits and pieces. Now it was clear, he knew what was happening every time, and every time was powerless to stop it.

Why would he dream of something so terrible? Himself, betraying their cause? Betraying Chrom? He felt guilty for dreaming it; though he had no control of what he saw, he felt responsible by simple fact that it was him. It couldn't be true though. Lucina would have warned them of Robin's treachery if it brought on her future, right?

His rubbed the corners of his eyes and rose from his cot, sensing sleep would not come tonight. The earth was cool beneath his feet but the night was balmy. Ylisse summer days were warm, and this close to the Plegian border the heat staved the desert chill away until dawn.

Pushing out the tent he saw the moonless night was still dark, countless stars twinkling large and small across the sky. Dawn still a ways away, the only light coming from the unattended firepit coals in the middle of the commanders' circle. Some time ago Frederick retired from his watch to get his nightly five hours of rest.

Robin approached the pit, feeling for one of the remaining logs and stripping some bark from the back like Frederick taught, shredding it as he tried thinking about nothing. He placed the kindling on the glowing embers and the log over the small growing flame, blowing softly until the fire licked the underside of the wood.

The quiet night was broken by crackling fire. He sat back, staring into the flames in silence, groggily trying to push the dreams from his head but failing to think of anything else until a voice spoke from behind him.

"May I join you, Robin?"

He looked over his shoulder but he knew that strong voice and proper tone without seeing her. Lucina stood a few steps behind him in her long sleeping tunic, waiting for his answer as if he might say no. He smiled, her unconscious formality was always charming.

"Of course, Lucina. Your company is always welcome."

She moved to sit beside him as he reached for another log to lean on the first. She adjusted her tunic before speaking.

"What keeps you from your bed?"

The momentarily forgotten dream returned and he looked into the fire. He couldn't tell anyone about that awful nightmare, least of all the daughter of the man he dreamed of killing.

"Just a bad dream."

"Would it help to talk about it?"

"It's just a dream." He dismissed, rubbing his tired eyes.

Robin didn't need to add himself to the number of things Lucina kept an eye on. She already took it upon herself to help in every mundane task around camp, from training recruits to cutting vegetables she wore more hats than any other Shepherd. He glanced over.

"Did I wake you? Or could you not sleep either?"

He felt her shift beside him and saw her staring into the fire. She always carried herself with confidence and certainty, but now she drew her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them to rest her chin.

"Sleep is sometimes... Difficult."

"Anything you ah... Want to talk about?" He scratched the back of his head, realizing she had no obligation to answer him after his response.

Her large eyes met his for a moment of consideration before losing themselves in the flames again.

"It's nothing special. Most of us from the future can't sleep through the night..." She closed her eyes, brows marred as if trying to block the flow of thoughts now running through her mind.

"Memories?"

"The things we saw. Did..." She trailed off looking torn between wanting to talk and wanting to forget.

It occurred to Robin how little they actually knew about the time Lucina came from, other than it was something they wanted to avoid. But while his tactician brain could lay out battle plans and juggle logistics in record time he was clueless when it came to what made appropriate fireside conversation. Was them being alone enough to warrant her opening up to him? Was he insensitive for asking for more information? It occurred to him this was one of the first times he'd been alone with her. Fighting shoulder to shoulder with someone built trust that would take years to gain otherwise, it didn't occur to him how little time they spent together off the battlefield. He might be considering her a much closer friend than she realistically did him.

"Fighting a losing battle was one thing, living in constant fear another. It's a terrible thing to admit but after a while caring for people becomes hard, after you've lost so many... Seen so many friends pass..." She trailed away and shook her head. "Meet someone for the first time, the next day you were saying goodbye for the last time."

Lucina stared into the fire, gaze hardening as she held strong against a fresh surge of memories. Robin understood, his job would be infinitely easier if he was capable of distancing himself from the lives he held in his hands every time he sent soldiers out on a mission. But he wasn't, and he liked to think that's what separated him from other military advisors.

"I guess coming back to a worn-torn past didn't help with that." Robin apologized with sigh, but she shook her head.

"Not at first, but you gave me hope. Seeing your value of life, never losing a single Shepherd... At first I was suspicious of your abilities, but now I wish you were by my side when our last cities fell."

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I'm a bit glad I wasn't."

She nodded in acquiescence.

"It does no help to think wishfully anyway. The fact was we didn't have you with us, and not a day went by I didn't question if I was doing the right thing, or just surviving."

Robin waited, sensing there was a story that Lucina debated telling him. She didn't owe him an explanation, and if it resurfaced bad memories he'd prefer she let them stay buried, but when she chose to continue he realized the trust she was showing in him.

"We lived with a fundamental combat doctrine: No one gets left behind. It was the core of our values and gave everyone the assurance that they would never become risen. Dead or alive, no one was left for Grima, and we would all come back together. That's what I promised my soldiers... Higher than any order, that doctrine superseded all circumstances. My officers would bring them home. I would bring them home"

She took a shuddeh, clearing her throat.

"It was a ruined city. Infested, but we were desperate for supplies and one of our own knew it was the closest place for medicinal herbs and equipment for two-days journey in any direction. Time people didn't have. I led the mission and... It went bad. Seven of us went in, three barely came out."

Lucina went silent and Robin realized the dilemma. He weighed the decision in his head, scratching his chin. When he didn't press further she finished unnecessarily.

"My presence speaks of my choice."

Lucina steeled herself for the look that demanded explanation, critical eyes full of judgment. When none came she looked to him, but he was staring into the fire. He noticed her watching and raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"What would you have done?" She asked, surprised she had to ask for the information most people readily volunteered.

"I wasn't there."

She blinked.

"You have an opinion."

"Based on conjecture and a handful of details."

"But you have one."

Her eyes searched his. He recognized that look, quietly seeking validation. Like he ultimately held all the answers. It was the same gaze he received fifteen times a day from Chrom. He didn't understand what the royal family saw in his three year's worth of boundless wisdom since Chrom found him in that field, but it was clear she held the same level of respect for him her father did.

"I would like to hear it."

He considered her another moment, then looked back to the fire. He didn't have the numbers to work with parameters of future hypothetical missions, what more it was done – nothing he did let alone said now would have any effect whatsoever. He couldn't see the value of his opinion on the matter, but sensed that wasn't the response she was looking for. What would be the morale impact of leaving their allies behind? That would probably be the biggest hit to the troops, seeing when push came to shove they bent. Their golden rule was worth as much as the air it used when spoken.

Robin somehow sensed this too, wasn't the response she was looking for. Moreover it wasn't what she needed to hear. He thought for another minute then spoke.

"I think it's unfair for anyone to pass judgment on a situation they weren't present for. I can tell the decision weighed heavily on you, and for that I'm sorry but... Lamenting over it now won't bring them back."

Lucina shook her head.

"I can't stand the idea that their last thoughts were that I was a coward. That I abandoned them."

"I don't think a single person who knows the name 'Lucina' would consider that for a second."

She met his serious gaze and he nodded.

"Your responsibility is to humanity. The people you could save. Would that have been the right choice, diving straight back in with three people so you could all die together? Rules aren't nooses that tie you to the grave. You want my opinion – you saved three people. The alternative was that you could have saved zero, and you'd be dead. Doesn't take a tactician to weigh those on a scale to see what the right call was."

Silence followed his words as she processed them.

"Do you believe that?"

He chuckled, half shrugging.

"For whatever it matters, I do. I also believe in not dwelling on what can't be changed, living in the present..." His expression grew serious, meeting her gaze evenly, "And Lon'qu's cooking."

Her expression told him she didn't get it, so he continued.

"You've tried his au gratin potatoes, right? He doesn't get saddled with chef duty often but when he is? You can taste the symmetry. Everything is cut so precisely, measured to the drop. He really did miss his calling as a sous-chef."

"Why–?"

"Why only sous, right? I really thought he was shooting for head chef too, but the man has no creativity in the kitchen. Plenty of flair, but no spice. I mean yes literal spice but no figurative–"

"I'm sorry, but I don't understand what you're talking about. What does this have to do with anything?"

Robin glanced over, seeing his attempt at humor lost completely. She stared in puzzlement, trying to logically connect his jump in topic change.

"It's ah... I wasn't serious."

Her expression didn't change.

"It was more of a... A joke to lighten the..."

No response.

"...Nevermind." Robin cleared his throat, reaching over and grabbing another log to add to the fire. "Apologies, you were serious and I was being foolish."

Robin didn't look at her, mentally scolding himself. She had opened up to him about a traumatic experience of her past, and he tried making her laugh. She was the survivor of an apocalyptic future and the savior of humanity, and he wasted her time with jokes. The more he thought about it the more stupid he found himself.

He opened his mouth to offer a more thorough apology when she spoke.

"I appreciate your attempt to take my mind off it."

He glanced over, seeing her smile softly into the fire. It was a rare turn of her lips, one that caught his attention every time he saw it. She caught his gaze and he closed his mouth, feeling his face heat.

"N-no problem."

"But talking about it actually... Helped. I think I can get some rest now. Thank you for the conversation, Robin." She rose, resting a hand on his shoulder as she passed.

"It was nothing." Robin mumbled, distracted by the momentary scent of flowers. He consciously remained facing forward, trusting she didn't need his eyes to see herself safely to her tent.

He cleared his throat again, shredding another piece of bark to keep his hands busy and reminded himself that was his best friend's daughter...

… His best friend's strong, independent, beautiful daughter. Though Chrom hadn't actually fathered this Lucina. He hadn't raised her... Technically. And though she hadn't kept track of her birthdays and he suffered from severe retrograde amnesia, she and Robin were even roughly the same age.

Sensing idle thoughts wandering in a dangerous direction he cleared his throat again, frowning as he reached for another log. Perhaps he'd check the makeshift showers the soldiers had set up, clear his head before getting started on the day's planning.

There was plenty of work to be done and he'd already spent too much time worrying about dreams.