Did any of you honestly think you'd see this chapter? if you did, your faith is gratifying.

"You should talk to him, Robin."

"Huh? Ouch!"

"Robin!"

The tactician slumped down to the ground, touching the rapidly swelling lump on her head with a barely suppressed wince. Cordelia's face swam out of the bright stars in her vision, worried and half-amused.

"What happened? You didn't even move!" Her friend knelt next to her, carefully parting white locks to examine the wound.

"Yeah, you cracked me a solid one," Robin admitted, biting down hard on the inside of her cheek when Cordelia pressed slightly too hard.

"Do you need me to get Lissa?" Cordelia asked, cupping her face and staring intently at her pupils. "I don't want to be the one who killed our tactician. I'll leave that who someone who legitimately dislikes you."

"Thanks, friend."

"I'm here for you!" Cordelia's cheeky grin gradually faded. "I mean it. Talk to Libra. It'll do you some good."

"I talk to Libra every day," Robin answered airily, and sternly told the blush creeping up her neck to go away. It ignored her, as involuntary body functions are wont to do, and marched across her cheeks to set them alight.

She knew Cordelia noted the blush, and Robin silently dared her to comment. "The skirmish with the Valmese took it right out of everyone's heads," Cordelia began, and blanched when Robin's stare became a whole lot harder. "You know, the…thing, about your…other person."

"Oh yes, what with one thing or another, I'd plum forgotten the lost faith of some of my closest allies," Robin growled, rubbing the bump a little harder than needed. Her ire drained away a little when Cordelia pulled back guiltily. "Sorry. I didn't mean you – "

"Well, it was a little me," Cordelia interrupted, a strained smile fighting to stay on her face. "I'm sorry, I just…that stuff is important to me. So are you. But I kinda forgot the order for a while."

It stung, just a little, to know one of her closest confidants had withdrawn from her for, from Robin's point of view, such a petty reason. But even if she could fault Cordelia on that, she couldn't fault her for sticking to her values.

Or for reaching out, apologizing. Something Robin was not prepared to do.

"I think I can find it in my heart to forgive you," Robin mumbled, and Cordelia's surprised huff of laughter made her turn her head sharply.

"Sorry, it's just…Libra said that to me the other day," Cordelia mused. "Though from you it sounds like a threat."

"I am not threatening, I am a beautiful, forgiving, gentle dove," Robin answered haughtily, which only caused Cordelia to laugh again.

"I don't think you even know what a dove is," Cordelia teased, earning her a half-hearted swipe from the tactician.

"Why do you think I should speak to - " Robin began to say, but Cordelia was staring slightly over the top of her head, her eyes wide and flickering. " – Cordy?" Her ruby eyes snapped back to Robin's, and Robin almost toppled over as Cordelia's palm near slapped to her forehead, narrowly missing the swelling lump.

"You still look a little dizzy! Maybe I should go and get Lissa anyway!" Cordelia scrambled to her feet and took off across the small training yard with indecent haste, her long hair disappearing between the tents like a lick of flame before Robin could even open her mouth.

The tactician snapped her jaw shut, her mouth bending into a petulant frown. The blow she could forgive, it was certainly her own lack of focus, but hightailing it away just as they were having their first proper conversation in two weeks? The part of Robin which would always be an elitist god of destruction rankled at the slight.

The reason for her swift departure was made apparently a few seconds later, when she felt the blunted end of a healing stave touch her wound with the gentlest of caresses, and the healing magic that poured forth was all at once soothing and remarkably familiar.

"Your timing is ever impeccable, Libra." His warm chuckle followed her comment, and she felt warmth of a different kind alleviate her jilted feelings.

"How did you know it was me?" he asked curiously, still remaining behind her shoulder and out of sight. "Did my footfall give me away? Perhaps my cologne?"

"Oh my, you genuinely need to shave?" He rewarded that bit of wit with a firm nudge to her shoulder that almost sent her sprawling. "I imagined that facial hair would be so intimidated by your masculinity that stubble wouldn't dare take root?" It was blatant pandering; she knew he lapped up every last drop.

"Your penance is accepted," he conceded, and she was glad he couldn't see the grin that spread across her face. "Truly, though. What was it?"

Robin supposed she could reveal one of her secrets. "Your magicfeel."

Silence. Then –

"My what?"

"Your magicfeel. You have a distinct imprint whenever you use healing magic. Everyone does." Robin's hands began to make lazy circles as she lost herself in the explanation, the opportunity to impart knowledge. To show off, she suspected. "It's like, how you know the touch of someone's hand, or how you can instantly identify someone by their voice. All mages have it, but I notice is most with healers. Probably because every other mage uses their magic to try and fry me."

Libra sat next to her then, his hair loosely tied back from his face in the simple, long ponytail she quietly adored. It left only a few pale gold strands to frame his face, and put his eyes and fine cheekbones into sharp contrast to how he normally cloaked himself.

Robin realized she had stopped speaking, and was now staring, and she hurried to grasp the thread of her thoughts. "Yes. It's not always…really definable in any normal sense. When Lissa heals it's like – like floating down a stream in the height of summer, with a meringue lamb nuzzling into the palm of my hand and a folk song on my mind. All that pours into the wound and makes the fixing even better."

"That's as close an approximation we'll ever get, however ridiculous it sounds," Libra said, and looked at her wonderingly. "It…I know what you mean, actually."

Robin realized the dangerous path she had set down a little too late, and waited with baited breath for the question she knew was coming.

"In that case," Libra finally began, and did she imagine a tremor in his voice? "What does my – "

"I'lltellyoulater." The words rushed out of Robin's mouth before she could clamp her teeth together, and she scrambled to her feet, pulling him up with her. "I think Cordelia will be back soon. You know, it's the first time I've been able to spar for a while, and I've been doing terribly today. My sword may as well be strapped to a chicken for all the good I'm doing with it."

Libra grasped his side and stifled a wince – he was healing the slowest, possibly because he had started a one man crusade to stop Cordelia from shouldering the brunt of their chores. They often spent hours sharing the burdens of the camp, alone together, under the sun or in low candlelight, nothing to distract them but each –

Robin snatched up his stave from where he had left it, snared in the grass, and tried to smother the acid jealousy bubbling in her stomach. She was a grown woman, but her jaw still tightened at the thought of her two greatest companions off doing something together, without her.

Stave still grasped in hand, Robin went and snatched up her iron practice sword, slightly dusty now from its hard landing in the dirt. Feeling the fine pommel once again fit into her hand gave back a modicum of control, and she faced Libra with her low emotions firmly in check. "You should head back, Libra, but thank you for healing that bump."

Libra shrugged – he looked slightly less at ease now, and kept shifting from one foot to the other. His mouth opened, and closed. His arm shifted from his ribs to grasp his opposite elbow, and his gaze dropped to silently the study the trampled earth.

"Are you feeling alright?" Robin prompted, taking a few steps closer to him.

"Yes, yes, I'm just still a little tender," he said a little too quickly. Robin's eyes strayed to his torso. She was no healer, but Libra's injuries had been too severe to have sealed almost completely over the week.

"Would you like to spar?" Libra offered suddenly, and Robin's eyes narrowed. Libra crossed the yard at a brisk yet tender pace, and selected his own favourite axe. "I'll be a little slow, but it has been too long since I last practiced." He liked to wake before sunrise every day to run through his forms. She knew this, because when he had been in the guest room that had become his room, Robin would wake upon hearing his feet touch the floor. She would lie perfectly still under the covers, listening to him quietly ready himself and slip out the back door.

She had once watched him, just two weeks before she had been summoned to the palace and been unpleasantly greeted by the sight of a sweet newborn and the news of a conqueror sweeping across the seas.

Libra stood in front of her now, his posture defensive and cautious. He had elected to wear his full monk's regalia today, and it was clearly weighing him down. Robin's eyes flickered over him, assessing the tells in his body and methodically comparing them to what she had come to know about his fighting prowess. Libra was favouring his left side; a slight tremor in his leg betrayed the still healing ankle; the axe hung from one hand, his other arm bandaged up to the elbow and bruised up to his shoulder; his breathing was calm but shallow, meaning -

Her sword spiralled almost lazily, swooshing past his chest like the arc of a comet. "Are you sure you should be out here with your stitches still in?" In a great show of willpower, she fought back a smirk when Libra visibly cringed.

"I don't intend to allow minor injuries dissuade me from assisting the camp, Robin," he answered a trifle stiffly. "Or from continuing my training."

"Oh. Bad Shepherd. Typical healers – excellent at caring for everyone but themselves." His axe whirred up into his hands then, his face crumpling into a wince at the sudden movement, and Robin raised her eyebrows at him. "Your determination is admirable, but I – ah!" Despite the weight of his axe, Libra had a surprisingly turn of speed when he put his mind to it, and Robin was only just able to get her feet into gear when he almost seemed to blur forward. He was within striking range in seconds, and if she had been armed with anything less than her sword he would have landed his hit.

She caught his axe a glancing block, but it was enough to send him staggering back a step. That was all Robin needed. She light bound backwards on the tips of her toes, assuming a defensive stance while Libra recovered his balance.

The blow could have killed her. She didn't think Libra would, and if she had to be struck by anyone a competent healer was a good option, but the injury could have been potentially fatal. Libra would only ever spar with one other person like that, and Lon'qu was nimble enough to avoid most his strikes anyway.

"I ask that – you don't go – easy on me," Libra gasped out, his face slightly grey. Robin has to stop herself from sheathing her sword then and there, and helping him back to her tent. His tent, she mentally corrected. She kept her distance – Libra tended to be a little touchy about his male pride, and would only accept returning to camp once a victor had been decided.

"I have no intention of that," she responded, and surged forward.

It could hardly be called a fair fight – she was in fine form, had the benefit of a warm up and several days of solid food and exercise. Libra's pallor only worsened, and every shuddering blow he barely blocked punched a rasp from his lungs. Robin kept it up as long as she dared, and even then it was difficult – each stagger and tortured breath made her want to rush forward and drag him off to every healer in the camp.

At last, after what was probably only five minutes of combat but felt like weeks, she deemed it long enough. He couldn't even bring the axe up to sufficiently block her blow – she had a clean opportunity to drive the point of her sword right through his navel.

Robin arrested the strike just as it flickered under his defences, and sharply rapped the flat of her blade against his knuckles. The axe fell from weakened fingers.

Libra fell forward.

If she had been questioned later by any well-hidden observers, of which there was a surprising amount, Robin would be forced to admit that she didn't quite remember the next few seconds. She vaguely recalled throwing down her sword, remembered her boots slipping in the dirt and her whole world slowing down around her as Libra's knees buckled. She remembered the sweat beading his forehead, his eyes rolling back and making no move to catch himself.

And if pressed, she wouldn't know how she fought her way through the suddenly treacle thick air to catch him just before his knees slammed into the dirt, taking his full weight against her torso and bracing against his momentum. Her heels slid back slightly, and a grunt escaped from her mouth, but the next thing she truly recalled was sinking to the ground with him firmly held in her arms.

"You fainting damsel," she muttered, partially to test if he was conscious. His hand slapped her side, and she chortled smugly. "Yeah, you heard me." He heard her.

And after that, the thing she recollected was a sense of utter relief and fulfilment at having him resting against her, closer and more intimate than they had ever been back in Ylisstol. His head slumped into the crooking of her shoulder and neck, and by the gods his breath tickled her skin. Her arms automatically adjusted to hold Libra's weight better, and it so happened to mean drawing him a little closer. Her eyes partially drifted shut, and for one sneaky moment, she inhaled his scent and buried her face into his loose hair.

They stayed there for several minutes, Libra partially cradled in her lap, her hand brushing his cheek and his breathing gradually steadying. The sounds of the camp seemed far away and drowned out by the persistent hammering of her heart. She became aware of his hand grasping her around the wrist, and of his thumb tracing circles on her palm; Libra's other arm was loosely gathered about her waist - his head had slid down so his breath puffed against her exposed collarbone. He was close enough that his lips periodically grazed her flesh – each time little tingles sang out across her nerves, fraying her already tested resolve.

It was when he finally began to the stir that she couldn't take it anymore. Libra tried to pull himself up, and in the process dragged his torso a few inches over hers. His lips grazed up her neck, and the epiphany that struck her was that he was doing this on purpose.

Robin had them on their feet in one swift movement, and she didn't hide her pleased smile as Libra clung to her until he regained his balance. "I should take you to your tent, you need some recovery time," she said sincerely, already half dragging him to where she knew he had pitched his new quarters.

"Yes…I have something I need to give you," Libra murmured.

The stave and sword were still lying in the dirt when Cordelia eventually risked a return.

"You're very light, Libra," Robin almost scolded as she deposited Libra onto his cot. A soft groan of relief puffed from him, and Robin tilted her head so her hair fell across her face, aware she had involuntarily started worrying at her lip.

"Lissa had me on a liquid diet until this morning," he breathed, the colour slowly beginning to return to his face. "Broth and weak tea. It was awful. I felt like an old, toothless lady."

"Oh, Libra," Robin said soothingly, coming over to seat herself precariously on the edge of his bed. "You're not toothless. You have the finest set of teeth in all the land."

His glare was victory enough, but it was soon replace by a hot, hard flash of pain. He scrabbled at his side, encased as it was by his thick coat and Robin hurried to help him. He stilled as she patiently unhooked, unbuttoned and untied, until she was able to drag off the heavy cloth around his shoulders, the coat and the belt until the only thing covering his torso was a thin, black fabric. It covered his neck and joined seamlessly with a pair of black gloves of the same material, but it hugged his form in a way that made Robin swallowed almost audibly.

She pressed all that firmly back, focusing instead on his aching side. "Do you feel any bleeding, any tearing?" she asked softly, her fingers hovering bare centimeters from his side. Libra shook his head, taking in tiny, controlled breaths.

"No, it's just pain," Libra whispered, his hand moving to hold his stomach. "My stitches are fine, before you ask. It's just…" he struggled to speak again, and Robin inched closer out of sympathy, her heart crying to alleviate his suffering even the smallest amount. "I have trouble breathing, sometimes, the muscles are still trying to work out where they need to go." He smiled weakly.

"You poor dear," Robin breathed, resting her hand on his side as though his body would defer to her touch. "I wish I were a healer."

"You have your ways." Robin looked up sharply, thinking for a moment he was mocking her, but he was simply watching with his small, fragile smile that she had only seen once or twice. It was different from his saintly smile, from his pert grins and sardonic smirks. It was something Robin jealously hoped was only for herself.

"You look sad, still." Libra touched her cheek. "I haven't seen you this sad since we first met."

"You frightened me," Robin admitted. "When you fell. I saw you fall and I couldn't move. A hundred spells came to mind and I couldn't say any of them. I thought you were gone and - " and I'd have to sink the continent so the world remembered your name, and mourned your loss " – and I'd be left here without you."

"I am sorry I caused you pain, Robin," Libra began, and only grunted when he received the reproving swat he'd expected. Robin always showed her displeasure when he placed the blame on himself, and he'd come to almost look forward to this display of protection.

They were silent for a while, Robin lost in her own thoughts until an almost unheard question from Libra brought her back. "Do you remember when we first met?"

"Oh…sort of. It was at the castle, in Plegia."

"Ah, I mean…the proper one. After that."

This place was serene, green and utterly free of people. Libra had found it quite by accident, during a hunt when he was tracking down a particularly devious buck. It had been too late by that time to investigated, but it had been well worth coming back the next morning.

Their wait for reinforcements had stretched on for a week longer than necessary, and Libra had been coming here for over half that time. He generally made his excuses in camp, feeling slightly guilty he was not going to pray as he so earnestly told his fellow Shepherds, and slipped away before any could even offer to accompany him.

It was also the first day he had thought to bring along his sketching pads and supplies, which were admittedly running a little sparse. He was down to the last sliver of charcoal, three pencils and most of his watercolours were only thin patinas coating the bottom of their containers.

Still, he had enough for this work, and it was a particular scene he wanted to capture. The main part of the clearing was on his side of the river, though there was a small bank on the opposite end which was just as free of long willow fronds.

The trees in question clustered thickly around the edge of the clearing, the willow whips dipping gracefully into the water, pulled at by the current and the occasional chunk of ice until they spread out like long, leafy fingers atop the surface. Closer to the Feroxi border the runoff from their mountains often brought frost, but it was still far enough into Ylissean territory that the flora flourished.

It was also far away enough that the snowstorms melted into rainstorms of epic proportions, though the sky today was blissfully blue and free of clouds.

The grass was slightly rabbit nibbled, and he caught sight of a flashing bobtail every now and again. The wildlife here seemed to be unwary of humans, if the host of ducklings who had toddled across his abdomen yesterday were anything to go by. They had spent a good five minutes inspecting every item Libra had brought, including Libra himself, and Libra had simply tried not to do anything so frightening as breathing.

After a few inquiring nibbles at his hair, and hopeful pecks at the wax paper which contained his lunch, they had waddled off to the water and joined their indifferent mother.

It was this moment that had finally cemented the idea to bring his paints. The memory of their little peeps and clumsy footsteps still made him smile unwittingly.

A monstrous crash from his left broke his peaceful silence and, startled, he reached for his axe, his final piece of charcoal falling from his fingers to become lost amongst the young, crisp grass. He didn't have time to do more than that – a woman burst out from the foliage, her pace hard and desperate. She didn't even slow down when she reached the edge of the brook, and a spray of icy droplets went up as she plunged in without hesitation. She staggered to the middle of the stream, the water up to her waist by now, before Libra realized he was looking at the tactician of the army.

The wildlife was silent. Her harsh, bubbly breath held an almost angry quality.

Robin stood stock still, the current gently tugging at her clothes like a hopeful child. Head bent, shoulders curled and arms hanging limply by her side, Libra wondered with some alarm if she hadn't take ill in some way.

A shaking, clenched fist rose to her face and even at this distance he saw her bite down hard on her knuckle.

The first sob drifted across the cheery babbling water, so soft and out of place Libra wondered if he hadn't imagined it. A second and a forth followed, each one as strangled and cut-off as the last. Robin was clearly struggling to keep them bottled within her chest, a battle she was rapidly losing. His senses taut, Libra leaned forward when tiny, glittering droplets fell from behind the curtain of hair that concealed her face. The hit the water silently, carried away and dispersed instantly by the spring runoff.

Paralyzed by indecision, all Libra could do was watch the woman, Robin, as she doubled over and began to weep in earnest, making her shoulders heave with the effort of being expelled from her body. One arm curled around her waist, but the other remained at her mouth, futilely muffling her cries. She was afraid of being discovered, Libra realized, and a flash of guilt shot through him at his unintended intrusion on what she no doubt thought was a private moment.

Libra's first instinct was the hurry forward and comfort the woman, even from a distance. No, a lie. His true first instinct was to quietly pack up his papers and charcoal and slip away. From the little he'd seen of her in camp she had always been perfectly composed, her compassion tempered by her honesty as she sought to hold the Shepherds together after the fall of Emmeryn.

Tensions had run high in the camp, and it had resulted in a few people getting into scuffles that had nothing to do with a spilled drink or unpacked weapons, and everything to do with their recently departed Exalt. Libra had also taken on his own share of Shepherds seeking guidance, seeking an answer as to why a woman as undeserving of death as Emmeryn had been forced to end her life in such a fashion.

They sought reasons for the indignity, and Libra helped as best he could, even as a dark, bitter place in his heart lamented the same question.

Robin had taken on the less spiritual aspect, taking each person in turn into her tent, serving them tea and getting them to talk. Not always about Emmeryn, but what they wanted to do after the war, what they liked to do on their down time, if they had practiced long with their weapon of choice. Tiny little conversations which eventually coaxed them open and, inevitably, had them weeping into a fresh handkerchief Robin kindly supplied.

But here she was now, the tranquil tactician soaking wet and trying frantically to stem her own tears. She finally seemed to be winning, the sobs trailing off into raspy hiccoughs. Finally, even they fell away, and she began to slowly dip her hands into the water, rubbing them clean before splashing her face.

He was staring, Libra realized, and he lay back as quickly and quietly as he could, determined that she would not form her first impression of him mistakenly as a peeping tom. He rearranged the items around him to give them a lackadaisical look, as if he had suddenly dozed off under the afternoon sun.

He concentrated on breathing evenly for a minute, and then yawned terrifically. Loud enough to be clearly heard by Robin, and his efforts were rewarded. The splashing abruptly stopped, and he suddenly felt the immense pressure of her scrutiny even this far from the water.

Libra was very glad he had elected to go a more subtle route.

He heard her move again after a few moments, and waited until the clumsy swishing had turned into muddy squelches as his cue to sit up slowly, rubbing his eyes as he emerged from his false nap.

"Good afternoon to you, Robin," he greeted her politely, and the smile she sent his way was as confident and caring as any he had seen before.

"Ah, Libra, what are you drawing?" she asked, surreptitiously wiping her eyes one last time. Her voice was soft but steady, and he marveled at her quickly regained composure. She came over and knelt at a respectful distance from him, too far away for any accidental touches.

Libra felt a modicum of embarrassment at her distance, but was still glad for it. She may be a companion but he had no desire to touch her. He frankly wouldn't know what to do if a lady laid hands on him, anyway.

"I am drawing a picture," he responded, feeling a little silly for stating the obvious.

Her eyes were firmly locked on the paper across his lap, so she missed the tinge of pink rise into his ears. One long, pale finger extended to pin down the edge of the drawing, and Libra was pleasantly gratified by the gasp which followed.

"Oh! Libra, this is very good!" She leaned a little closer, loose locks of her hair tumbling over her shoulders from her movement. A sweet breeze ruffled through the clearing, wrapping Libra in a mixture of scents. Fresh water, moist mud, wet feathers and wildflowers. Intermingled with a foreign, earthy scent he would later always come to associate with Robin.

"I do love this," she continued, a note of sheer delight entering her voice. "Oh, you have a wonderful eye for shading and detail." Her hand hovered over the picture, not quite touching the still grainy charcoal. "You did pick a fine spot to draw, the picture is perfect. And it still has that touch of melancholy…" she looked amused. "That's very like you."

"Melancholy?" Libra could hardly believe his ears. He had always endeavoured to fill his time with his new companions with as much grace and optimism as he could manage, even going overboard in many cases. He knew he had earned a reputation for being a bit prayer-mad, but all in all he thought he'd –

He thought he had fooled them quite thoroughly.

And he hadn't even truly spoken to Robin! They had been formally introduced but with Emmeryn's death still fresh in their mind Libra had guiltily shied away from anything, well, Plegian.

And here was the Plegian now, waving her hands placatingly and laughing. "I didn't mean it in a bad way! It just has a lot of depth, a lot of light and dark, like you!" This time she shrugged, two high spots of red appearing on her cheeks. "Pah, you shouldn't take heed of me, Libra. I don't know anything about fine art and I think I'm making that embarrassingly clear."

Despite her shocking words, her candour touched him, and Libra found himself smiling back. A real smile, to his surprise.

"Well, if we're putting our cards on the table, neither do I," he responded.

"Really?" Robin leaned over again to inspect, and it may have been his imagination but the urge to recoil from human contact was a little less urgent now. "But look at this, you have such a gift! If you had told me you had studied at some fine school I would have believed you in a heartbeat."

Libra shrugged, feeling slightly tongue-tied now. "I have been told that my painting are technically proficient." He glanced down at the picture again. "But they…lack soul." Artistic soul was what he had been told, but he knew what they meant. That was the fear that griped him late at night – that the trauma wreaked on his young soul had damaged it irreparably, and it would one day spill out for the world to see.

But Robin was shaking her head, sending a cloud of white hair fluttering about like cotton in the breeze. "Ridiculous. This is bursting with soul, Libra, it is so beautiful and complex, even with that touch of sadness." She once again smiled at him, and this time it was a real one from her as well. "I can tell it is very much like yourself. You give a purity and honesty to this." She huffed. "Whoever told you that was no doubt jealous of your talent and hardwork."

Libra swallowed, trying and failing three times to find eloquent words. His artistry had always been enjoyable, but after the measured blow to his confidence he had never been quite as open to sharing the results with any others.

With sudden clarity, he had no doubt that if Robin ever came face to face with this detractor it would be a battle worth watching. She was looking at him now with the same firm expression she gave to her Shepherds when they came to her with a problem. It was in sharp contrast to Chrom, who saw the rest of his fellow Shepherds as also part of his flock, there to be tended and cared for.

Robin would be closer to the sheepdog who kept them all in line, who tirelessly guided them down the right path and was an undeniable force of authority.

And she would fight wolves for them, if it meant protecting her flock and Shepherd. A woman worthy of following.

"I appreciate the sentiment," he finally said when he realized he had been quiet a bit too long. In a move that surprised him most of all, Libra thrust the picture out to Robin. "You can have this one, if you like."

He saw her eyes go greedily to the piece, and a flicker of pride went through him. Robin really liked it. "Are you sure?" she asked, though her fingers were already edging towards it. "This isn't specially drawn for anyone?" He was curiously disappointed by her next question. "It wasn't drawn on commission, I mean?" He had thought for a brief moment she was asking -

"I don't do drawings or paintings on request," he said, a little shortly. "No exceptions are ever made."

"Oh." Her fingers closed around it, and she pulled it from his grasp. She gazed at it adoringly once more, and then began to very carefully roll it up. "Well, if it's not meant for anyone else, I will glad accept it. It would be an honour."

Robin met his eyes again, and a warm feeling trailed down his spine to settle into Libra's stomach. "Thank you." She finished packing away the drawing, coming to seat herself once again beside him. She was still a good few inches away, but he could feel her heat and something deep in his skin could sense her presence.

Perhaps it was because he hadn't touched anyone in years, but her presence weighed on him pleasantly, like a heavy fur blanket on a wintry night. Each tiny movement sang across his nerves, now silk slithering down his arms, and he privately wondered if he had accidentally ingested something psychotropic.

"Libra…" the sound of his name from her lips startled him.

He felt her hesitate at his side, and when he turned his head to meet her gaze what he found was…nothing what he had expected. He had expected to see some pleading, maybe some wariness, but all that lurked in her brown eyes was curiousity.

Libra was struck, then, by how humanly beautiful she looked in the afternoon light. He had really only seen her under the harsh conditions of the desert, when she had been martial and alien in her foreign colours. Under clear skies and young leaves she looked like a different person.

He had always thought her complexion and hair to be perfectly white in colour - untouched, pure snow on the top of an unconquered mountain. But snow was too dead to describe her now – fresh milk in dawn light, was what his suddenly delirious mind supplied.

"How long have you been out here?" she asked casually.

Libra discerned her true question, but gave no indication of it. "I have been in this spot for a couple of hours." He stopped, waiting for a response, but Robin's silence prompted him to continue. "It is a peaceful spot. Good for clearing your head away from others. Private, even."

He didn't even have to look at her to know she understood. "It is lovely," she commented, leaning back to sun herself. "A secret place."

"Indeed," Libra agreed, before adding gently, "perhaps you'd like to bring one of the other Shepherds here?"

Robin appeared to give this some thought. "No." She rolled onto her side, propped up on one hand and the other draping elegantly over the rise of her hip. "Our little secret, I think." Their eyes locked again, and Libra felt a sense of finality run through him.

What had been decided he had yet to discover, but he found himself nodding agreeably. "Just between us."

"I didn't know you then," Libra said softly, breaking her reverie. "Not as I know you now. Two weeks into the campaign and you had been a rock for everyone. Chrom and Lissa needed you constantly, and when they weren't around someone else needed their tactician." He stared down at his hands. "I only figured out later that – "

He seemed to struggle with his words, and Robin unconsciously drew closer, until she was sitting a handspan from his knees. Robin knelt carefully before him, resting her hands over his.

"I decided I would serve you," he answered quietly. "In any way I could. I would be your friend, or your guardsman, or – or anything you required me to be. I did not have the faith of anyone besides the High Priest, but you immediately had faith in me."

"I have something for you," he said suddenly, and got up to lurch awkwardly over to the heavy locked chest at the foot of his cot. Robin watched him unlock and pry open the lid with some difficulty, prepared to step in the minute her fiercely independent priest looked to be tearing his stitches again.

He finally pulled out a thick roll of paper, and let the lid slam closed, heedless of the noise. He straightened up, and Robin was aware she was still crouched where he had sat. His eyes were dark in the lamplight, and she could see a faint sheen of sweat had settled on his forehead.

"I – " He moved closer to her, his footsteps slow and soft as though he was afraid of scaring her off. Robin stood just as slowly, unable and unwilling to tear her eyes away from him. The lamplight turned his hair to brilliant gold, and the black bodyglove of a shirt he wore did nothing to quell the sinuous heat which wound up her spine. It exposed no skin but Robin drank in the sight of him.

"I finished the portrait you requested," he finished breathlessly, holding it out in front of him. Robin took it slowly, her fingers brushing against his.

She unfurled it slowly, glancing at him every few seconds. His usually stoic demeanor was now definitely agitated, his hands opening and closing into fists and his breath came so erratically she worried he would collapse again.

Robin glanced down at the paper, her eyes taking a couple of seconds to really understand what she was seeing…and nearly let it fall to the ground. "Oh! Libra, this is – "

"It's you," he croaked, taking another step towards her. Robin was engrossed in the portrait now, her eyes wide.

"This is – too much," she laughed lightly, as breathless as Libra was, and continued to absorbed his artistry. He had caught her midturn, her hair streaming out behind her like a battle standard with her coat hems flaring dramatically. Despite her martial bearing, he had given her an element of gentleness that softened the overall effect. The tiny touches of colour here and there accented the piece, and next to the stately, wise woman enigmatically smiling from the page, Robin felt very foolish and filthy. "You flatter me. Gods above, you make me look so ravishing. No one is ever going to believe this is me!"

"I was not after a complete likeness." At her inquisitive glance he hurried to explain. "I only hoped to capture a fraction of the radiant beauty that suffuses you." Blatant flattery, her eyes teased, but he returned her gaze with a sincerity that ached to be caught in.

"Despite your faith in me, I don't believe I will ever be skilled enough to capture your perfection on canvas," he whispered, now only a couple of inches separating them, and as much as she loved the portrait it was being rapidly forgotten. "Perhaps I should leave such things to the gods."

Robin felt her cheeks almost light up at this, though she certainly wasn't truly present enough to be self-conscious over it. "Well, I must give you something in return, at least." Her hand snaked out to take one of his, and she laced their fingers together. "You have been more than a steadfast companion to me, Libra – what do you wish of me?"

His eyes, green-gold and intense, bore down on her own until she was certain he was looking at things even she didn't know flowered in the hidden corners of her soul. "Tell me…tell me what I am to you."

Robin released a breath she didn't know she had been holding, a tingle of anticipation shooting through her. Libra's free arm snaked possessively around her waist and pulled her closer, almost crushing the paper between them. An inch, Robin was certain of that, a bare inch separated them, and that was good because if he knew how her blood raged now Robin wasn't certain if she would take of embarrassment before she –

"You…" she said slowly, stalling for time until she got her pulse under control. Her hands would not be similarly ruled, and the picture was released to fall silently to the floor – her hands crept around to the small of Libra's back, the tips of her fingers pressingly lightly into the tense muscles there. His eyes darkened, and the deep inhale he sucked in briefly closed the gap between their bodies.

Though Libra was in her arms, a fact her mind was constantly shying away from for fear of it being another wistful dream, Robin pondered how to word something she had only begun to admit to herself in the last few weeks. It was like trying to describe a new colour outside of the shades and spectrums she knew.

Libra stirred, she felt his muscles bunch as he began to pull away, and she instructively tightened her grip. "Wait, no."

"No?" he asked, his voice slightly strained. "I apologise, Robin, I have overstepped – "

"Stop, I want to finish!" Robin burst over him. Libra obligingly fell silent again. "I mean to say, Libra…gods above know I am not poetic or artistic! But…" fear tried to seal shut Robin's vocal chords – she had done this before, held another like this before and it had ended with her staring at another woman in her wedding dress as deep-rooted bitterness curled around her soul. The destruction that always sang its euphoric song under her skin had been especially hard to quell –

"I was in a pit, one I had dug for myself," she began hoarsely, and cleared her throat to try again. Curiously, it made actually saying the words easier. "For weeks I left myself wide open, and I let everything hurt me. The congratulations to the royal couple, the morning updates, even the idle gossip from the street. I wanted it to hurt me, Libra, because I wanted to be so battered I could justify not going to the wedding and I could wallow some more in my own misery."

"Unfair, I doubt anyone would have faulted you for taking some time to mourn," Libra countered immediately, and Robin couldn't stop her mouth tilting up at the corners. He was loyal to a fault.

"Perhaps that is so, Libra, but I would have happily remained that way for a very long time." She sighed. "I never wanted to return to the castle. If the Plegians had rallied an army and stormed the gates I'd have tucked myself into my armchair and sulked into my biscuits. I never wanted to see anyone, ever again. A few people came and visited, knocked at the door." She searched his face, but he was drinking in her words, his face aopen and patient. "You were the only one who ever forced the door open. And you climbed in a window one day when I locked myself in the bathroom. You didn't try to open it. Just sat outside and hummed your bloody hymns until I came out and made you tea and cried again."

"I was prepared to hum all one hundred and forty seven verses of Oh Naga, Our Father," Libra offered. "And repeat them for as long as possible."

"See! That's my point, right there!" Robin exclaimed, hardly even aware as Libra led them to his cot and sat them down. "Day of the wedding, I was feeling better but I was certain – dead certain I wasn't going. And you showed up at my door, made me get dressed in my best ceremonial attire and pushed me into a carriage. And Cordy was there, and Maribelle met us at the gates, and Lon'qu had threatened all the guards into bowing to me, and Gaius gave me a sticky kiss and a sweetroll, and Panne was digging up the royal hydrangeas and Tharja had hexed just about everyone – " Robin inhaled deeply, suddenly at a loss. "But I know they were there because you brought them there. You sat with me through the ceremony, and got me laughing at the service afterwards, and you never let Chrom near me – "

"You'd have slapped him," Libra interjected, and Robin nodded in agreement.

"Can't say it wasn't a possibility. But treason didn't take place that day, because you kept me near the buffet, and danced with me, and got others to dance with me when you were off doing whatever you were doing and…and you supported me."

Robin gulped. "I was in this deep, dark pit, with thoughts I'd always ignored, and everyday I seemed to get more and more alone. And one day I looked up and you were there, offering me a hand and smiling."

"Robin, I – " Libra began.

"But I need to say this as well," Robin rushed, and he gave her a faintly offended look. "Sorry, but I feel like you're going to say you love me, I feel like that's what this is building to, and I am so frightened of even leaving this tent that I need to say it first." Robin inhaled sharply, and let it out. "I love you."

The silence between them stretched out longer than she anticipated, and for the first time she felt a tremor of uncertainty. She was smart, she was discerning, she knew how these things – was it possible she had made a mistake?

"You are so competitive," Libra said finally, and the hand winding into her hair went a long way towards assuaging Robin's fears.

"I am," she said honestly. "I love winning. And winning clean."

She made the first move – it was an easy one, she found in the end. His free hand rose naturally to her cheek as she lightly pressed her lips to his. It was chaste, at first, just the barest brushing, but it was Libra who pressed her closer and deepened the embrace.

She felt his inhaled sharply through his nose, his ribs jumping under her hands, and then his tongue was running over her parting lips, slipping in to touch her own tongue almost reverently, her hands were tangled in his hair as thoroughly as her locks own was caught up, and the sounds coming from his throat was sending that familiar heat to her stomach but it was so much better –

"Wait, Robin," Libra gasped out as he wrenched them apart, and she couldn't help the growl of annoyance and betrayal that slipped out. He looked pain, and flushed, and slightly disbelieving, but he was determined through all that.

"Libra! That's – "

"I know, I just need to say…" now he seemed to be the one struggling. "I didn't want to be one of those men. My courtship experience is limited, but I had heard plenty of complaints from the other girls, of men who pursued their hand under the guise of friendship. I wanted to help you, but for the life of me I couldn't help falling in love with you. I feared you would take my motives as impure, and I wished only to be near you."

"Then…it doesn't bother you?" Robin finally asked. You should talk to him. "That…that scandal, in the camp – "

"No scandal for me," Libra finally croaked, and he swallowed hard. "Not for me."

"You mean – "

"One or one hundred," he breathed. "It wouldn't matter to me, if you had taken a hundred lovers. Who you are was not carved into being by the lover you lost; you are beautiful, charming, intelligent, brave and kind because that is what you want to be. I don't care for what anyone thinks of your past, whether that person is a rogue or our own exalt. If you would spend your future with me, I would consider myself blessed, truly blessed."

It seemed like something he had wanted to say for a long time.

"You're a fool priest," Robin declared tenderly. "A fool priest with a dozen urchins peppering my house, new wings being added on and – gods, we have children already. I fear we've missed a few vital steps."

Even amidst her theatrics, he was smiling. That tiny, delicate smile, now suffused with such delight she couldn't believe she was the source of it. It made her want to cup her hands to his face and breathe, whisper, tease until it glowed brighter.

His hands wound through her hair again, and he watched it cascade through his fingers. "Naga has blessed me."

"I beg to differ," Robin murmured. "I must have done something very right, or very wrong, for such a saint to be sent to me. It's enough to drive a woman to church."

Libra smiled again. She liked him doing that. "That could be arranged."

"Aren't you going to say something?"

"Say something?"

"You know…after what I said."

"Oh, of course, Robin. I would love to move in."

"Libra."

"Oh, was there something else?"

"Fine, I'll play along. Yes, say something about the other thing."

"Oh, but I need say no more. I have said my piece. My actions speak louder than my words, anyhow."

"You sassy – mmph!"

"I do love you, Robin."

Thank you to everyone who followed, favourited, lurked and especially to those of you who reviewed. Many fond thanks to A Shadow's Lament and RedHairedJenna. I have looked forward to your opinions the most, and I hope the discussion and ideas can continue to flow. Also thanks to Acqua Sole for your very kind PMs, they were delightful and also so flattering I near died. My head no longer fits through my doorway.

It was a real pleasure writing this story, though it lost the thread a bit. I think I let it languish a bit because I was so reluctant to let it end. I have a few more works in the pipeline, and hopefully I will be able to give them more time and frequent updates.

Bless your face. Thanks again!