Chapter 27 – St. Jude, Patron Saint of Lost Causes

It was quiet, and she lay cocooned in her own small existence, surrounded by whiteness and warmth. At the edge of her senses, there was the soft, pulsing sound of life, and though such animation was out of her reach, she knew that it was safe here, that she was only resting, until the time was right for her to wake up.

Existence passed by in short snatches; a few words caught here and there, occasionally the squeeze of someone's fingers around her own, rarely there was a whispered prayer, and finally, a pair of lips, shy, pressed to her cheek. Like this, she passed in and out of awareness, surfacing from a deep slumber to a higher level of sleep, with her eyes closed to the world, but open to her consciousness. Often, she relived the last moments she remembered. More often, she dreamt of times gone by.

When her body had almost healed, the voice of her cousin spoke to her, dry and rough on her ears, but clear enough to rouse her to the closest she had come to consciousness. She stirred, and opened her eyes to a field of white-gold - shining ears of grain beating slowly back and forth, a vast expanse only contained by the limits of her mind. For a while, she looked only at the great emptiness of the sky, so unlike that of reality, but her time was limited, and Thierry's voice called again.

Robin stood, and her legs held. Arms out, she balanced, and felt dry air move in her throat. Her first thought was of the strangeness of her surroundings; everything was muted somehow, except for the brilliance of the light coming from the sky – her breath was muffled in her chest, her thoughts moved slowly, and she felt her wits waken sluggish. She flexed her hands, and watched them move, reassuring in a way, that this was somewhat real. Slowly, she shielded her eyes from the glare of the bright, blank sky, and scanned the horizon. She saw the figure of a man, much younger than he had ever been when she had known him, beckoning her over with the crook of his arm, hooded cloak half shrouding his face as it always did.

"Over here, Robin," he called, and though he was miles away and through the veil, it sounded as if he were speaking into her ear, "it has been a long time, cousin."

She laughed, and he smiled in return. "Come," he said, and gestured her closer.

"I will," she assured him, but when he gestured again, she walked only slowly, knowing she could never reach him, or return from the place where he had gone. "And whilst I am on my way to you," she said, "I have questions, Thierry, if you would answer them."

He blinked, and perspectives no longer had any meaning, he was far away, and she was walking to him, gaining no ground closer to him, yet speaking as if he walked beside her. He paused for a moment, knowing eyes hearing the questions hovering beneath her words.

"The spell was beautiful," he said finally, grey eyes glowing with their newfound youth, "fine craftsmanship, even for such clumsy Grimleal." His long fingers flowed along the imaginary lines of the curse, and he sighed with what she guessed to be admiration.

"And you broke it," Robin said, pausing, "you broke it with a blood price." She bit her lip, feet caught between the tufts of grass, and he beckoned again, as far from reach as he had been when she had woken. He shook his head, seeming exasperated at her lack of progress, but he lifted his eyes to the horizon and responded despite.

"That was the catch," he replied, "as I told you, it could be broken as any Grimleal blood curse can be – with the life-force of any of its creators. Since I was the head of Grima's church by bloodline, the magic they used was channelled through me - a blade between my ribs would spill enough to set all of you free." He seemed to draw further away from her, and as she waved an arm futilely to try and regain his attention, wetness gathering under her toes. Her eyes widened at the sensation, and she pushed harder to move forward, only to feel her feet sink into mud, rapidly welling from the whiteness beneath her feet.

"That wasn't my question, though," she shouted back, frustrated, "my question was why?" Her ankle caught, and she fell.

He turned away, and her breath quickened now with fear, his eyes glazing over as he looked into the blankness beyond. "Thierry?" she shouted, damp soil pulling at her legs, scrambling as she sank further into the wetness bubbling from beneath her feet. "Thierry! Why? Why did you do it?" His eyes met hers, and she felt tears break from her own as she threw her hands out to try and pull herself, somehow, towards that ancient gaze which met her own so sadly.

"They are coming," he said softly, and he gave her the ghost of a smile, "and you know why I did what had to be done." His hands trembled, and he watched them, holding them up to see as his fingertips soaked in the whiteness, fading into translucence. "It was my purpose," he said, laughing almost bitterly, "that invulnerability of mine – when I should've died so many times over and over in my life – was the gift, or rather the curse, of my mother. She wanted you to live. She wanted you to be happy. I couldn't die, until my purpose was complete. All for Evelynn."

Robin scrambled forwards, hands clutching at clumps of turf, the glutinous mud now pulling at her calves.

"Vala?" she said, panicked, swallowing and fighting ever harder as the tar pulled her down deeper. "Your mother?" She frowned, tears forming in her eyes, even as it made sense to her now - how he was so young, but yet so before her time - and she swallowed the urge to cry out as her legs sank deeper. Her hands met nothing to grasp, only the earth now spreading out from beneath her, spreading across the field, carrying with it the reality she knew would force him away.

"She is here," he hushed, and he turned away again, hand outstretched to the whiteness, his fingertips breaking away into glittering glass, floating on gusts out past the veil. "They are both here."

And for a single, crystalline moment, she saw. Before him, hand outstretched, was the dark woman, lips veiled but smiling, the glint of a golden circlet in her raven hair, a teardrop sapphire resting on her ivory forehead. Beside her, hand-in-hand, bedecked in bridal lace and with eyes burning gold, was a lady in white, whose gaze for a mere millisecond met Robin's, and yet told a thousand tales.

"We are here," whispered the dark woman, and Thierry took a step towards them, even as Robin heard her voice shout at him not to go, not to leave her here.

The pale lady smiled with rose blush lips, and shook her head slowly, sadly. "Once the finest dancer in all the land," she breathed, golden eyes glittering with unshed tears, "and one day, daughter, I will dance with you." Ghostly fingers seemed momentarily to brush her cheek and Robin gasped, heart burning alight with desperation, for whom to stay she did not know. She watched Thierry's fingers meet those of his mother and her lover, and suddenly they shattered into a thousand splinters of glass, fragmenting on the kaleidoscope of the wind.

She screamed his name, but the ground swallowed her, and they were gone.

Outside, the sun began to melt the snow, and the earliest of spring flowers, tentative, pushed through the white blanket to greet the weak light, blinking sleepily under the dispersing cover of cloud. As the air warmed, Robin skimmed consciousness, awake but kept under by a liquid daily wet on her lips – a spell, she soon realised, to keep her sleeping peacefully, until the healer's work was fully done.

The first morning she could remember, she felt slim fingers work at the cast on her arm, and she stirred to open her eyes, but could not.

"Hush, now," chimed a female voice, "you'll be done soon, I promise."

There was a sound like that of cloth being cut into strips, then the tear of medical tape as Robin felt linen being gently wrapped around her forearm. Her fingers twitched, and her carer smoothed the bandages, beginning to hum, sweetly, the tune of a children's lullaby. Robin felt her heartbeat slow, and she stilled, before sinking back into slumber.

…

"How is she?" Nah asked, dropping the tent flap carefully behind her as the healer hurried past her, "Morgan worries that she gets lonely in here."

She turned to see the cleric disappearing into the infirmary, and smiled at the characteristically bobbing pigtails.

"She does have me here, you know," Lissa returned from behind the canvas wall, and Nah picked her way through the muddle of books and bottled tinctures to follow her, "I keep her plenty company – chatting all day long if you leave me at it." She peered round as Lissa rifled through her makeshift shelves. "And she should be out of here very shortly, if I could just find that blasted flask!" Lissa frowned and, too concentrated on her other task, knocked a bag of herbs to the floor.

"Ah," Nah said slowly, and bent to pick it up, "that's good to hear." She placed it carefully on the workbench, and moved closer, slender fingers worrying the fringe of her sleeves , "and if you're looking for the blue one, it's over here." She pointed to a bottle on the bench. "Calcium dosage, right?"

Lissa's green eyes sparkled cheerfully as she turned to look. "Oh, yes, that's it!" she responded, and Nah handed it over, smiling, "you've always been much better at this than me, Nah." The cleric rolled up her sleeves and pulled out the stopper, giving the mixture a sniff to make doubly sure.

"And by 'this', I assume you mean being organised?" Nah said, grinning and watching her. Lissa rolled her eyes good-humouredly in response, only taking her dragon companion's hand and bustling on towards the patient's bed.

"Quite," she said, and began to pour the indigo liquid into a set of cups, "but enough talking to me - you should be telling Robin what's been going on, so she's all caught up when I wake her up."

"She can hear us?" Nah asked, frowning confusedly, "I thought she was asleep still."

Lissa nodded, dropping grey granules into the medicine. "Lucina thought the same," she said, "but since it's an artificial sleep, she can hear most of what we say."

Nah raised her eyebrows, surprised, and Lissa grinned at such a reserved reaction, especially humorous when contrasted with the dragon's husband, who had immediately started babbling to Robin, crowing at the wonders of modern medicine.

"I'll leave you to it, then," she said, "and you tell Morgan to visit again, too!" She tidied up the last of her tools, noting down Robin's dosage in slanted hand. "I'll give you some privacy, just let me know when you're done."

"Will do," Nah returned, dusting off a stool to sit on, and sitting, watching as the healer finished up.

Putting the pen down, Lissa gathered the last of her books from the foot of the bed, standing and, hands full, she swung round the corner in her own haphazard way, and Nah listened as she heard her animatedly hum a fireside tune.

She opened her eyes to the roof of the canvas tent, blinking blearily as she organised her thoughts. Sluggishly, she watched the dust motes in the air dance on hidden drafts, and for a while she could hear only a dull ringing in her ears. Closing her eyes, she breathed in slowly and tried to focus, but tiredness still pulled at her limbs, and her eyelids were heavy with weariness. At length, the ringing faded, and she made out the dense sound of silence, interspersed only with the sound of someone breathing softly, almost in time with her own breaths. Curious, she listened, but soon registered that she wouldn't be able to see the source unless she managed to sit upright, a task that, in that moment, didn't seem too difficult.

Wincing at the dull twinge in her wrist, she tried to move her arm, beginning with a twitch of the fingers and progressing finally to bending at the elbow. The other, she soon discovered, she could not move at all, as the appendage remained stubbornly asleep, no matter how much she concentrated. Instead, she watched the fingers of her movable hand flex, and Robin was comforted by the lack of any eye tattoos on her wrist. Slowly, she put her elbow back down, and leant back on it in an attempt to push herself upwards, an effort that made her grit her teeth at the pathetic difficulty of such a motion, before collapsing and sinking back down into her sheets.

"Gods," she muttered quietly to herself, and narrowed her eyes as she put her weight onto the arm again, wrist aching and pain flaring up the strained muscles. Softly cursing to herself as she did so, she shuffled herself gradually backwards until she felt the small of her back against her pillow. Jaw clenched, she made one last push, palm flat against the mattress of the bed, and leant herself against the headboard in a manner that let her sit almost upright. Eyes watering slightly, she suppressed the urge to cough as dry air moved in her throat, and took in her still vaguely blurred surroundings.

The workbench, ward and cluttered shelves were all as she had remembered them, and Robin took a moment to smile at the haphazardly piled books and bundles of paper that made the room, even to her, look more makeshift than hospital. Sighing and sinking back into the comfort of her pillow, her eyes slowly followed the sound of the breathing to land on a tufted blue head of hair, cradled by two forearms midway down the bed.

Smiling to herself, and ignoring the wetness suddenly gathering in the corners of her eyes, she took in the lanky limbs of her snoozing son, sprawled across his chair and leant untidily against her bed, and laughed softly as his sleeping breaths puffed up the tufts of his fringe. She shuffled herself back further, now unaware of the discomfort of her arm, and leant forwards to slowly brush her hand through his hair, smiling at the disarray of his appearance.

"Hello, Morgan," she said, quietly, still smoothing his hair, and he stirred. His nose, pink from being buried in the crease of his elbow, twitched, and Robin laughed at the motion, forgetting to hush herself and opening Morgan's eyes as he heard.

"Mother!" he said, and suddenly she was engulfed by flurry of cloak sleeves and excited laughing, two long arms wrapping themselves around her. "You're awake!"

Grinning inanely, he buried his head in the crook of her shoulder, much as he had done when he was little enough to hold on her lap, and she smiled back, one arm wrapped around his shoulders and the other on the nape of his neck.

"You've gotten so big," she said, voice still rough with disuse, and he emerged, hair spiking in all directions to give her a funny look.

"Are you alright?" he asked, dimpling as she nodded her head.

"Just remembering how small you used to be," she replied, and she paused before continuing, "and gods, Morgan, how I've missed you."

He caught her hands in his and squeezed. "We've all missed you, mother, and Lucy was so worried about you. Lissa took good care though, didn't she?"

Robin smiled, and looked at her hands encircled by his, now larger than her own, even though it felt like only yesterday he had been wrapping his fingers round her pinkie, pulling her along to the next circus attraction. She felt a tear slip down her cheek, and she closed her eyes. "She took excellent care," she replied, swallowing, "I'm just so glad to be home."

Morgan shifted himself properly onto the bed and leant forward to press a kiss to her forehead. "We're glad you're home too," he said, and for a moment he sounded so like his father it made her heart ache, "you can rest easy now." He looked worriedly at his mother, moving his thumbs in little, anxious circles across the back of hands, and Robin woke herself from her daze.

"The Grimleal?" she asked, looking up and biting her lip.

"Gone," he said, meeting her eyes, "after what happened in that cave- there aren't anymore Grimleal. The bloodline ended with him - with Thierry." He averted his gaze for a moment, and his fingers paused in their motions. "We should've done more," he said, quietly, and he shook his head sadly. "His sacrifice was just such a waste." He frowned, and her eyes softened at his unusual gravity.

"No," Robin said, gently, her hands pulling away from his to rub a smudge of ink off his cheek, "it wasn't a waste. It's what he wanted." Her son looked up, surprised, and she continued. "He told me he wanted to redeem himself," she said softly, "that it was his purpose, in the end, to do for us what he wished someone had done for him." She stilled, and gave her son a tiny smile. Even if she couldn't fully grant to him the extent of his motive, she would give him what she could, little as she understood it herself sometimes. "So we should use his gift, Morgan."

He blinked back at her, and fiddled with the corner of his sleeve. "What gift did he give us?" he asked, and she shrugged, tilting her head.

"I don't exactly know," she replied, and felt all her love for his cheeky grin and tufts of cobalt hair well up, "but I know he gave me my memories, and my family, and my humanity." She watched him mull on her words, and dimpled at his seriousness, so unlike his usual light-heartedness. "So, Morgan?" she said, and he looked up, his cowlick bobbing, "you get to hear those words every son loves." Robin pulled him back into a hug and pressed her lips to his cheek. "I love you, darling," she said, and Morgan smiled, and pressed his forehead to her collarbone.

"Love you too," he replied quietly, and for a while, they didn't move, but instead basked in their own, mutual happiness.

By evening, she could stand, and Lissa worriedly followed her around the camp before Robin shooed her away, reassuring the cleric that if she should fall, she would always be well within shouting distance of aid. Rolling her eyes amiably, she wandered along the beaten grass that formed a path where so many Shepherds had trodden their way to camp. Visits from almost every member of the camp meant that she was worn out even after sleeping for what Lucina totalled at seventeen days, and what she wanted more than anything was a quiet spot to gather her thoughts.

Almost what she wanted most, Robin corrected herself as her mind wandered, but she'd been told that what she wanted most, being an irritatingly noble and self-sacrificial prince, had gone to return the stolen children to their parents despite being injured himself. As a frowning Lissa had said, he hadn't even listened to the idea of letting someone else ride for three days there and back, even when the timing of his return was supposed to crucially coincide with the waking of his wife, something inevitably delayed, according to the healer, by the fact that no man could ride properly with a sprain in his ankle and a four-inch gash on his arm.

Smiling to herself despite, she breathed in the rapidly cooling air and traced her way through the long grass to find the spot she had once found Morgan and Nah snoozing in, though her son always turned bright red and denied any such occurrence when she mentioned it. The largest tree in a three-mile radius, an alder, spread its thick branches and sheltered whoever sat beneath from the winds of the highlands, and Robin picked her was through the last remains of snow, wrapping her cloak tighter around her as she did. Searching through the nooks made by the tangle of sturdy, knotted roots, she found the perfect perch where, silhouetted by the dying light, she could see the path winding up from the valley below, and also the lanterns of camp in her peripheral vision. Mostly, though, she wanted to watch as the moon rose, almost as if this nighttime ritual she had practised when she had carried both Morgan and Lucina would centre her, and somehow let her process what had happened. Whatever she sought to achieve, Robin felt the quiet of the scene ease her nerves, and as her breath rose in twisting clouds through the cold air, she smiled, content.

It was maybe half an hour that she sat there for, watching the sun dip beneath the horizon and the moon rise to take its place, before she heard the tread of footsteps behind her and, closing her eyes, she let her lips tilt at the corners, her heart jumping erratically in her chest. A figure dropped down next to her and she felt the heat of someone's skin on hers, an arm wrapping around her waist to pull her closer, and encircle her within his own cape. Warmth sparked through her veins as her eyes flitted open, and without hesitation fitted herself into the well-known mould of her husband's arms, wordless, her head on his shoulder as her hair brushed against his neck.

For a while, they sat in silence, and he told her of his happiness through the strong beat of his pulse in her ear, and the soft kisses placed on her forehead and her hands. When he stilled, she looked up at him and her fingers traced the line of his cheekbone, wondering, perhaps, at the newfound familiarity of his blue eyes.

"Hello," she said finally, voice soft, fingers now following the lines of his neck, "what took you so long?"

He caught his hand in hers and held it to his face. "I'm sorry," he replied, voice low and tired, "I should've been here." His eyes closed briefly, and she stroked her thumb across his cheek.

She leaned further towards him, entangling their legs and lacing his fingers with her own, and shook her head slowly, watching the emblem at his shoulder glint in the fading light. "You're here now," she said, and looked up to find him watching her intently, smiling, with eyes dipping to her lips and then back to meet hers. She laughed quietly, and drew him to her, and when they kissed, she knew it had been worth it, if just for this moment of perfect bliss.

She felt the reassuring warmth of her daughter's fingers around her own, and she breathed in deeply, her other hand nervously fiddling with the lace on her dress.

"No need to look so nervous, Mother," Lucina said to her, smiling, "you look beautiful."

Robin blinked and looked up at the words, dimpling in the dim light. "I may be beautiful," she replied, "but you, darling, are radiant." She placed her palm on Lucina's cheek, and truly, her daughter was stunning; blue hair heated into glossy curls, a white-gold dress to skim her waistline, and shy smile to hide the nerves of a young princess, home for the first time in a long while. "So grown up," she said quietly, and tilted her head, wondering at how she never thought she could treasure something so much. "It must be the wedding making you glow like this."

Lucina laughed, blue eyes shining, and her cheeks turned pink. "It's about time you let us have a proper ceremony," she said, "Father has only just got over his - how shall we put it? - his way of charming ladies."

"Yes, his way of 'charming'," Robin said, raising her eyebrows good-humouredly, before biting her lip at the recollection of their first meeting, "it's just that you were so young. At least you're all a little older now, even though you all snuck off and got married anyway."

Lucina grinned, blue strands of hair falling into her eyes. "That was just a registration office, though," she said, turning the ring on her finger, "this time we're doing it properly. This time it'll be at home, and everyone will be there." Her eyes traced the lines of the room again, and they both felt the comfort of being within the strong, stone walls of their castle home.

"Only a week, then, any cold feet?" Robin replied, and her daughter rolled her eyes. "Even the first time round, I didn't have those," Lucina said.

"Didn't think so," her mother said, "its obvious to anyone that you're his world. Must be, if even you're father is convinced."

Her daughter blushed, and Robin was reminded of when she had been the red-faced bride-to-be, flicking her pinkie at her daughter was doing now, teased by Panne and Sully into admitting that she had never been happier.

From beyond the curtain shrouding the light, a man announced muffled words, and the rumble of a crowd replied excitedly.

"It's almost time," Robin said, looking to the door as, on cue, the other two members of the family hurried into the room, "and here is your father and brother, late as always." She sighed amusedly as her husband grinned sheepishly at her, jogging up to her and pausing for a moment to catch his breath.

"But we made it," puffed Morgan, following suit, "we're just on time." Lucina pursed her lips and immediately pulled him to the side to straighten his hair out which, defiant, had fought back against all the gels and concoctions the palace maids had used to try and make it sit neatly.

Chrom grinned sheepishly at his wife, who was doing her best to look stern, and shrugged as if he had had nothing to do with the situation.

"So," he said, moving closer, and slipping his hand onto her waist in an attempt to pacify her, "are you ready?" She rolled her eyes at the endeavour, deciding to give in, and smile as she pulled him down to press her lips to his.

"Ready as I'll ever be," she said, and he drew back the curtain, spilling light into the room, and they walked onto the balcony, to greet the thousands below, all waiting to see the royal family, united again.

FIN.

So that's it, and I don't really know what to say, except that I am really thankful to those of you who made it this far, you guys are p great. Sorry it took me so long to do this (exams really are a pain).

I don't have a question for this chapter, but rather, if anyone has any for me, if I didn't tie up every loose end, 'cause I know I'll have forgotten something in the ~almost~ year its taken me to write this, send me a PM, I don't bite. As always, leave a review if you can spare some feedback as well.