Robin remembers this well. He remembers the chants from the enemy army surrounding them, the scent of blood. A tall, dark haired man stands before them. His eyes are full of evil, malice, and Robin feels them piercing into his own. He feels trapped. Alone. He feels the darkness swirling around them, and through it he sees the Validar ready a magical attack.

Strategy! Quick, think of a strategy! Robin holds his breath as he watches his attackers hand surround with purple energy. The tall man unleashes it, hurling it towards Robin.

"Die!"

Falchion glints as it's brought up to block the blast of magical energy from hitting its target. It's blue-haired wielder steps forward, a triumphant smile on his face, and he looks back at his tactician. Robin's eyes are drawn to his, and he feels his heart skip a beat at sight of those warm blue orbs. Chrom.

"This is it! Our final battle!"

Robin turns to face the tall man again, pushing strands of his white hair out of his eyes. He watches Chrom deflect another attack out of the corner of his dark eyes. It ricochets and ignites a wall banner with purple flames.

"You're one of us, Robin, and no 'destiny' can change that. Now let's kill this dastard and be done with it!"

Chrom's words ring through the tactician, filling him with pride. His palm warms as he opens his tome, readying a spell knitted with flames. Robin unleashes it, hurling it at the tall dark mage, and suddenly everything goes black.

"This isn't over… Damn you BOTH!"

Robin wakes in a cold sweat, jolting up from his bed roll. His hair is tousled and tangled as he runs both hands through it, breathing hard, his heart racing.

Breathe, breathe… the same dream had been haunting him ever since he has joined the Shepherds, a band of friends lead by Ylisstol's own prince Chrom. Before that fateful day where the white-haired man had met him, Robin couldn't remember anything except for fleeting memories appearing in his dreams. A hard lump forms in his throat, the memory crashing over him: he knew how the dream would end. It always ended the exact same, in a way that scared Robin. Shaking it off, he rolls out of his bedroll and peeks out the window from his small shared room.

It's still dark outside. Judging from the position of the crescent moon above, it was around 3am. Robin sighs. He feels restless. Dressed in his sleeping clothes, he pulls his well-worn cloak over his shoulders to seek some fresh air.

He tiptoes past Stahl, his roommate, who is snoring with his mouth open. Getting back to sleep later would prove troublesome. Walking quietly through the Shepherds barracks, he heads to the gardens surrounding Castle Ylisstol. The grass is covered in a light coating of dew, and the cool night air is refreshing against his warm cheeks. Robin's heart slowly settles as he walks, each beat relaxing for each step he takes. Walks like this often helped after his dreams.

He's so engrossed in his thoughts, he hardly notices Chrom until he's almost tripped over the blue-haired man.

"Chrom? What are you doing out so late?" Robin quizzes, stopping short near the prince. His cheeks warm further, and he feels his heart beat a little faster at the sight of him sleep deprived and hair ruffled. Chrom looks up from his spot on the lawn, mildly surprised to see Robin there.

"Oh, hi, Robin," he rumbles, as if it was the most normal thing to be found laying outside on a patch of grass this early in the morning. "Just… Dueling with some unpleasant thoughts…"

Chrom trails off, his eyes returning to the stars above. They reflect them, shining bright, sending a shiver up Robin's spine. He didn't know how to describe these feelings. He had felt them since he first saw the prince, on that fateful day all those weeks ago.

"There are better place to take a nap then on the ground, you know."

Robin sits next to him, a good amount of space between them, and tucks his arms around his knees. Chrom closes his eyes.

"Tomorrow we march to Regna Ferox to request additional soldiers." Robin nods, remembering speaking with Chrom a few days ago about this mission. "But there's something you should know first. Not everything Gangrel said was a lie."

Robin patiently waits for Chrom to continue, plucking a piece of grass from the ground and twirling it. "The last exalt, my father, waged war on Plegia for many years. The violence... It was a brutal campaign, ending only with his death 15 years ago. Plegia rightfully remembers their suffering, but his war was no kinder to his own people."

Chrom swallows hard. "As the fighting dragged on, our army became more and more diminished. Farmers who could barely wield a pitchfork were conscripted and sent to their deaths. Soon there was no food at all, and the kingdom began to collapse. I was young, but I remember those dark times… I know how they affected Emmeryn…"

Robin looks away from Chrom as he opens his eyes, sitting up. His blue hair has a few leaves in it from laying on the dew-covered lawn. So cute.

Gods, why must he think such impolite thoughts at such a time? This was the prince Robin was thinking about. Show some respect.

"Such an experience would change anyone," Robin says, fiddling with his blade of grass.

"Indeed," Chrom says, running a hand through his hair, sighing slightly. "When our father died before her tenth year, he left her quite the legacy... Plegia's desire for vengeance... Our own people's unbridled rage... My sister became a target for blame on all sides. Her own subjects began to hurl insults - and stones. She still bears the scar from one... But she never let them see her pain. Only Lissa and I understood."

Robin's heart drops upon hearing this, and he stops fiddling to look Chrom in the eye for a moment. "It must have been so hard…"

Emmeryn had only shown Robin kindness since he joined their little band, even considering his potential Plegian background due to the filthy, old coat he came in wearing.

"I cannot claim to know how she does it, Robin. I could not greet such hostility with warmth and patience. While our people mocked and vilified her, she reached out and healed them. She brought soldiers home to their families. She ended the war." Chrom stands. He's not wearing his armour, only his cloth clothing and Falchion at his side. "And when Ylisse's spirit was mended and the people 'forgave' her? ...She never resented them for it. She represents the best part of the halidom - the part most worth protecting. She IS peace. But some men would take advantage of that. Men like King Gangrel. The day he understands peace will be the day death gives it to him… So perhaps I must be death's agent. Emmeryn would never order him killed, nor would I wish her to."

A slight silence falls upon the pair, Robin wrapping his arms around his knees.

"Well spoken, sir."

Robin jolts, looking up to greet the sight of Marth, a mysterious swordsman walking up to them. He's armed and ready for battle, his eyes hidden by a shadow cast from his mask.

"Marth…" Chrom says, his brow furrowing slightly, and Robin scrambles to his feet to greet the warrior more respectfully.

"Good evening to you." Marth raises his eyebrow at seeing Chrom's hair filled with leaves and Robin's hurry to stand. Was that a small smile tugging at his lips? The white haired tactician's cheeks redden. He knew how it looked, but it was anything but that. It would never be anything more. Chrom didn't seem to notice it at all.

"How did you get here?" He asks, confused: the gardens and courtyard were heavily fortified.

"The cleft in the castle wall," Marth responds, crossing his arms. "Behind the maple grove."

Chrom raises a blue eyebrow, crossing his arms in a similar fashion to Marth. "There? But how would you...? Ugh."

Judging by his body language, Robin knew that Chrom knew exactly where the swordsman was talking about. "You know the place, Chrom?"

"Yes." Chrom looks sheepish, refusing to meet Robin's eye. "I bashed in part of the wall while training the Shepherds. It's only a small hole, and I'd thought it well concealed, but…"

Robin has to stifle his laugh on the sleeve of his coat, and Marth's smile grows temporarily.

"Your secret is safe with me," Marth says, and then his smile drops. "I come here only to warn you."

"Warn us?" Chrom questions, his hand resting on Falchion's hilt.

"The exalt's life is in danger." The bluntness behind Marth's words surprises Robin: he sounded so sure of himself. Was the castle currently under attack?

"What, Emmeryn?" Chrom shakes his head. "That's absurd. She's guarded at all hours."

Marth bites his lip, and then nervously looks between the two. Nervously? That seemed so unlike the ever-calm and collected Marth. "What if... What if I told you I have seen the future? Would you believe me? A future where Emmeryn is killed. Here. Tonight."

Chrom looks at the swordsman wildly. "Seen the future? Have you lost your wits?"

Marth sighs, looking to the ground. "Yes, I expected you wouldn't believe me. So allow me to prove it!"

He pulls his sword from its sheathe, and Parallel Falchion glints in the light emitting from the castle windows. It's pointed towards the pair. Chrom almost goes to pull his own, stepping in front of Robin in a protective stance, causing the tactician to blush. Oh, right. He had no weapon, so if Marth chose to run through him with that sword… Chrom probably didn't want his tactician to end up skewered.

"I'm about to save your life," Marth says, throwing a sideways glance towards a tree. "...From him."

Robin looks towards it, and almost leaps when he sees an assassin suddenly jump out and race towards their small group. Chrom begins to pull Falchion but Marth races forward.

In one swift motion, the swordsman intercepts the assassin by tossing Falchion into the air, leaping to catch it and bringing it down onto the assassin. Landing in a crouch, the assassin cries out, falling to the ground. Blood stains the grass.

"I trust this proof will suffice?" He asks, turning to face the prince and slowly standing.

Chrom's face is white, but he slowly nods. "...Yeah."

A rustle from the bushes causes Marth to suddenly look back, and is greeted by another assassin bursting from them. He raises Falchion to parry, but slips backwards on the fallen assassin's sword.

Almost in slow motion, the assassin's blade nicks his mask, slashing it clean in two. A surprised look crosses his face as long hair tumbles down his back. His surprisingly feminine face. Wait.

Robin is gaping at Marth, but his eyes catch Chrom rushing past the blue-haired… girl? and slashing the assassin down.

"Wait, you're-" Chrom turns to face her, a surprised look coating his features, "you're a woman?"

"And quite the actress, too," she says, a humoured smile on her lips. "Honestly, I'm surprised you didn't figure it out until just now."

An explosion rocks the ground, and Marth's smile drops. The three hurriedly race towards the castle.

0~O~0

The clang and pounding of the Shepherds hurriedly putting their armour on rings in Robin's head as he searches for his Thunder tome. Chrom had raced to Emmeryn's sleeping quarters with Marth, desperate to warn her. The explosions were from the enemy blowing up a chunk of the wall with Fire magic. Soldiers had been dispatched to keep them at bay, but it wouldn't last for long.

Robin, collecting his things finally, races out the door. Stahl is one room over, being helped into his chest plate by Vaike. They needed a plan, and fast.

The white-haired tactician meets Chrom, Emmeryn, Marth and a sleep deprived but alert Lissa in the main corridor, beside a painting. The princess wraps her arms around Robin quickly, almost knocking him over.

"Please tell me you have a plan," she whines, her healing staff grasped in one hand.

Chrom is still without his armour, but he doesn't seem to care at this point. "We have an area for a situation like this: behind this painting here."

With the help of Robin, the two men lift the painting and lower it. A wooden door hides a small room.

"Emm, in here," he instructs, turning to his older sister. She's clutching her robes, a troubled look on her normally serene face.

"Chrom!" She cries, "take Lissa and flee while you still have time!"

Lissa now throws her arms around her sister. "Emm, no! We'll be fine, but you need to be safe!"

Robin grasps his chin, looking at the wooden door. "Is this door the only way in or out?"

Chrom turns to the tactician, a look of worry on his face. "Yes. It's the safest chamber we have."

He bites his lip, and places aside his romantic feelings for Chrom. A plan was beginning to formulate in his mind. "Marth. I'll need you to stay by the door."

She raises an eyebrow. "Are you certain I'm to be trusted, Sir?"

"You saved me back there, Marth," Chrom says, resting his hand on Falchion's hilt. "And not just then. You also rescued my little sister all those weeks ago. I trust you with Emmeryn's life."

Marth swallows, and nods. "Thank you, Prince Chrom."

A loud clanging of armour greets them as Frederick the Wary jogs into the room. "Prince Chrom! The enemy has broken through our defenses."

"Call for the Shepherds! Prepare for battle." Chrom calls, drawing Falchion.

O~O~O

Thanks for reading!

This will be quite a slow burn beginning, but I'm excited to see where it goes. I hope you guys are just as much!