Her earliest memory was of father's smile.

She was still an infant, barely a year old when a man had opened her door for the first time. His skin was a shade of gray that made it almost impossible for him to be seen next to her walls. His hands were hooked like they had claws and he had hair darker than the blackest night with a long cloak that dragged across the floor as he walked. He also had a smile that reached all the way to his ears that simply radiated joy.

However, her infant mind did not recognize any of this. She saw what she had been longing for ever since she had been born. She saw someone to bond with, to love. She saw who would finally be by her side and whom she could call family.

The man's long legs carried him to her within seconds and suddenly she was in his arms. It did not matter how much larger this man was compared to her because when she saw his smile soften into something pure she knew she could trust him.

He rocked her gently in his arms and whispered sweet nothing's into her ear which she could no longer remember. She just recalled knowing without a doubt that this man was her father and wishing she could stay in his arms forever.

Father visited her everyday from then on. For the longest time he would only come to raise her into his arms and rock her until she fell asleep. She would awake later, only to stare at her door until he would come to rock her to sleep once again.

One day that changed. Father had walked in with a book in his hands, sat down and began her lessons on how to read. Day, after day, after day he would come in with the same book in his hands and he would continue to teach.

At first she didn't like reading or writing much at all. The numerous letters, numbers, and conjugations often would be mixed up or completely erased from her mind. By the time father expected sentences from her she could barely managed words.

Father was patient despite her failures. He would go over and review anything that was troubling her, but his bright smile did not return. She could feel a deep guilt set in her stomach that father was working so hard and all she could do was fail.

She began reading after father left her each day and would only stop when she could no longer keep her eyes open. With her effort and father's lessons letters soon became words, words became sentences, and sentences became paragraphs.

She reveled in he new understanding of words and didn't stop until she had read every new book father had left for her. When she finished reading silently, she gleefully began reading all of her books aloud each day when father stopped to visit. After she had finished her books the second time father began to bring her new a new book with each visit. Every time she would bounce over to him and begin reading as soon as she had excitedly ripped it from his grasp.

She read science and history but she quickly fell in love with fantasy. She loved the different stories each one told. There were dragons, knights, heroic princes and kings; but her favorite was the tale of how their all-powerful god Grima sacrificed himself so the evil prince Marth would stop his campaign of destruction into their kingdom.

That part always made her sad, but father would always tell her that he was certain that Grima would return one day. He would sometimes make comments like that but mostly he would sit and watch her with his always-calming smile on his face.

With that smile a feeling of perfection soon entered into her world.

"Father," she began once her door had shut. This would mark the first time she felt a sense of dread at the opening of that door. She tried to hide her discomfort as she thought of a way to express her feelings.

She stood in front of a mirror, one of the only objects of note in her rather dull room. Her room was gray stone all around, no windows and only one door. Her source of light was a single candle that burned brightly in the center of the room that she assumed was by magic because she had never seen it go out. The most recent addition was a bed that had taken the place of her cradle a few short days ago.

It had been a sudden change; she had fallen asleep in her familiar cradle and awakened on top of her new bed with father smiling over her. She would treasure the memory always.

Her most prized possession however was her bookshelf. It was another gift from father to be treasured. Before father had generously gifted her with it, all of the books she had kept were strewn haphazardly around her room. One day, much like with her bed, she had woken up to all of her books organized neatly onto the shelf.

It was that shelf, or rather one of the books on it, that was causing her so much pain. A book that was one of her favorites, the tale of a beautiful princess locked inside a tall tower by her evil Ylissian father would be rescued by the dashing Plegian prince. She had often fantasized as herself as the princess and father as the prince.

It was that fantasy that had her wondering if she was good enough for father. Father had all the characteristics of the prince. He was tall, had beautiful black hair, was kind, caring, and was surely loved by all he met.

She was small and barely reached father's waist. Her hair was long but it was not the flowing, dark hair of the princess. Hers was obnoxiously bright and covered in dirt and muck along with the rest of her body. The princess had a beautiful silver gown that reached down to her ankles and closets full of clothing. She only had one piece of clothing, a small dress that barely reached her dirty knees.

She grabbed the book from her shelf and held it close to her, as if warding away the bad thoughts. Father walked up behind her and pulled her close, away from the mirror. He gently turned her around to face him. He smiled down at her,

"What is bothering you, little one?" Father spoke calmly and gently. Guilt welled up inside her at how selfish she was being to her father who had given so much already. Father squeezed her shoulders reassuringly and the urge to tell the truth overcame her.

"Father am I..." She trailed off briefly before starring at father's reassuring gaze. "Am I pretty?" Father's smile left his face and it was replaced with a disappointed frown. She suddenly felt guilt spread through her body like a wildfire.

Father opened his mouth as if to scold her, but paused. He glanced at the book she had tucked in her arms, then over to her bookshelf and understanding spread across his face. He plucked the book out of her hands then threw it on top of her bookshelf.

Father raised his arm slowly and opened his palm towards her bookshelf. She thought he might hit her for being such a terrible daughter. Instead he took a small book out from the folds of his cloak and flicked it open.

He muttered a short phrase under his breath and suddenly strange floating letters she had never seen before surrounded his body. The strange book glowed with a red light more letters flowed out and started to envelop father.

Her mouth hung open in shock at the spectacle she was witnessing. Her father was a Mage, something that only appeared in her storybooks. Just as her admiration for father grew, he did the unthinkable.

The floating letters condensed and shone brighter that ever before. Father spoke another short phrase and the letters were gone, replaced by a ball of pure fire in his hand. Father flicked his wrist and the fire was sent spiraling towards her bookshelf.

The wood fought fire and erupted in a monstrous blaze. In any other circumstance she would have been amazed by the spectacle, but now all she could feel was pure horror. The bookshelf had been part of her, her only connection to anything outside of her room. It contained stories that she had connected and bonded with, but also learned from. Now it was nothing but ash.

When the fire calmed down to a reasonable level father whipped around and left without a word. She collapsed to her knees and water started to pour from her eyes. Was she crying? Is this was true sorrow feels like?

Before she could think further her father came back in a whirlwind of motion. Letters reappeared around him once more, blue this time. He raised his hand and shot a jet of wind at the ashes that were once her bookshelf. They flew through the air and seemed to dance out her door

He walked menacingly over to her. Her tears dried in her eyes as she realized she was scared of father. He glared down at her with a rage in him she had never seen before. Then he threw his cloak back and reached into one of the many pockets that lined its sides.

He paused, and as if for the first time he saw the tears staining his daughters eyes. He saw her tiny form trembling in fear, of him. The anger that was pouring out of him before faded. Father then kneeled down to her level and gave her a soft smile,

"I'm sorry little one," he apologized. He slowly withdrew his hand from the cloak pocket and revealed the red book he had used to cast fire. She felt terror grip her at the sight of the book and she tried to back away from it.

Father's hand shot out and gripped her before she could even begin. A small part of her mind found it odd that she seized up in terror at a touch that once would have made her feel loved and warm. That small part proved to be the sane part when father drew her to him in a tight embrace.

"I'm sorry," Father said again. "You are more than pretty, and you do not need a book telling you otherwise." Gentleness flowed back into his voice and features, her father had returned to his caring self. When he stared to push away she reluctantly complied, but she knew father had become that way because of her, she wanted to make that right,

"Father I-" Father silenced her by placing finger on her lips. He gave her a gentle smile, the one that she loved, and gave her the red book once more. It no longer scared her, she realized, now that father was back to give her strength. Father drew her in close once more,

"This book and many others like it will teach you truth." His gaze focused on her and she felt a familiar warmth flow through her. "They will not force upon you lies about yourself. They will only offer the truth to you, where you must accept it and learn from it."

She cracked open the book, slowly, so she wouldn't damage the "truth". Inside were letters she did not recognize scrawled down on the paper in a form she could not understand. Upon seeing her confusion father let out a small chuckle,

"We will start learning tomorrow," Father pulled her to him and touched their foreheads together and he stared right into her eyes. "Though you may not feel it now, you are more beautiful than you can imagine. So for when you grow older, I have already made it my duty to make you more than that," His tone suddenly grew serious. "When the time comes, you will rise above us all."

Father rose with her cradled in his arms. He carried her back to bed where she curled up with her new book. He kissed her cheek and walked to her door,

"Goodnight, Robin," He said with a smile that could reach his ears. Father turned and shut the door to her room.

Robin wrapped herself in her sheets and thought of father. He had given her a name, a purpose, and she loved him even more than before.

Robin didn't know how much time had passed since then, only that she had gotten taller. So much taller in fact, her old clothes had begun to tear every time she began to put them on. Father had been horrified on the day he had come into her room to drop off a meal and found her without any sort of covering.

Robin didn't see the problem with not using them because she found them stuffy anyway. Father wasn't having any of it however, so the next day he arrived with six sets of the same outfit in tow. Tan pants, smallclothes, and tan shirts, as he had called all of them.

Father also gave her one of something he called a cloak. It was black all around and had intricately designed purple markings all around it. Father told her it was supposed to be worn on top of all the other clothes, which had to be washed and changed each day.

Robin thought it was needlessly complicated and just unnecessary in general but she had no intentions of disappointing father again. So she began to wear the clothes but grew to dislike them even more after finding out it was even stuffier then the last outfit. Father's reassuring smile helped her adjust nicely to them soon after.

Robin also found out she was best with the magic father had called "Thunder" magic. She had tried all of the tomes father offered but nothing had clicked like Thunder had. That included father's specialty, Dark magic, which she had thought herself a failure for not mastering. Father thought nothing of it and told her she wouldn't need it when she was older anyway.

It was a night, or what she assumed was night according to father, when the first person she had seen besides father had come into her room. Her first warning was when her door slowly creaked open.

Father had always stridden into her room with confidence and joy for her. This person who stalked into her room projected meekness and sadness. As it got closer Robin realized it was a woman like her.

The woman was hunched over as if she was in a permanent state of pain. She walked over to Robin's bed slowly and shook with every step. She was silent though and reached the bed without so much as a squeak. Her hair was as bright a white as Robin's, and she wore what looked like a longer version of Robin's old dress. Which made her wonder why she could not have that instead of her new outfit, until she saw the woman's body.

She was covered in so many bruises that parts of her body looked blue. Robin knew bruises hurt after she received one herself when she tripped and fell into the stone floor. Robin didn't want to think of what this woman had fallen on to get so many.

Robin also noticed the only part of the woman's body not covered in the painful bruises was her face. The woman's face also looked strangely like Robin's whenever she had looked into a mirror.

While Robin was thinking the woman had reached the edge of the bed. Her expression filled with longing and she opened her mouth as if to say something, but no words came out. Robin froze, mesmerized, as this stranger reached out and began to stoke her hair. The action was familiar; as father would often do that himself and she felt her defenses against the woman crumble.

Suddenly, father was beside the woman. He snatched her hand out of Robin's hair and flung it back with such force the woman stumbled away. Father turned to Robin and she flinched when she saw the rage that had returned to him. He spoke evenly to her,

"Sleep," He picked the woman up right after. Then he grabbed her by the hair and dragged her out of the room. He had not shut the door and voices carried to Robin,

"How dare you!" father's voice was filled with rage again and Robin curled deeper into her sheets.

"How dare I what?" The woman spoke for the first time. Her voice was strangely familiar, yet carried the same anger as father's. "Save our daughter, no our world from destruction!"

"You're just as closed minded as those Ylissians!" Father roared. "With all our sacrifice we resurrect something greater than we can even imagine!"

"This unknown greatness' first act will be to kill you and everybody around it!" The woman shouted back, the softness in her voice had left.

"And it will be glorious." Father did not shout but his voice carried an edge that she had never heard before. "You of all people should be spending the remainder of your days in prayer. Not throwing it away in the same blasphemous way you did before!"

"The only good that came out of you saving me was a second chance to save us all! It seems I've failed this time as well."

"Your failure to snatch a child from its crib happens to be the only good thing you've done in a long while!"

"You obviously felt differently when you saved me from that so called 'execution' by your own people!" There was the sound of something sharp being dragged across the stone surrounding them.

"Don't think I will be so merciful this time," Father spat. The woman let out what Robin could only think of as a battle cry. Rapid footsteps echoed from the hall that ended with a resounding clang! Robin heard grunts of exertion coming from her father and the woman. Father yelled and another clang came from outside her door.

Father muttered a few words that Robin did not hear but she could guess a second after. The hallway outside her room illuminated with the light of father's fire spell and the woman screamed in terror. Her scream cut off abruptly and the spell ended soon after. Silence followed for a long time before the sound of fading footsteps reached her. Soon that was gone too.

Robin could have gotten out of her bed to see the aftermath of what could only assume was a battle. She could have wondered why the woman had said our child instead of his. However father had told her to sleep.

So she did.

Robin stood in front of her mirror and frowned at her mother's face.

Robin had not seen Father since the woman had come into her room. She would find meals lying next to her bed at the start and end of each day without a clue how they got there. She had also grown so that she now fit into her once oversized clothes.

She found each time that father did not come into her room she thought about him more and more. With each passing day that father would not be there to teach her magic, read the scripts with her, or just be with there her longing for father grew.

Robin's hatred for the woman grew as well.

Every night when her dreams were not filled with Father they filled themselves with her. There were visions of her dying in horrible ways, mostly by Robin's own lightning spell. Or suffering eternally as her bruises slowly creped up her broken body. She dreamed many horrible things for the woman that had stolen Father away from her. Strangely the dream that stuck with Robin the most was when she was smiling.

She couldn't figure why she would think of that despite her hatred. Each time she tried to push it away she was struck with such familiarity that she could not. Robin tried and tried to place her face but was unable, until today.

She stared at what she was so sure was herself but had such a likeness to the woman it was uncanny. Robin realized then and there the reason the woman had said our child. It was also then and there she began to hate herself.

Robin glared at the mirror and it glared right back. She sneered and her reflection sneered right back. She frowned, smiled, yelled, and made odd faces to try to throw the mirror off. She wanted more than anything for her memories of that disgusting woman not to be presented in front of her.

Robin wanted Father back.

The woman had taken him.

Robin wanted to kill the woman.

Robin had the woman's face.

Robin wanted to kill herself.

So she did.

The space around her form was suddenly ablaze. Robin's eyes looked on distantly as possessions she once considered precious burned. The fire grew to consume her and her surroundings, clouding her vision. Then Robin cracked and the tendrils of insanity sped from her heart to everything around her.

The fire became dense enough for Robin to no longer see anything but the cracks. Splits carried across her room, her world. They continued to spread until nothing was visible but the broken.

Then the mirror shattered.

Robin glanced at the fire tome she had taken to carrying with her, then to the broken remains of her mirror. She did not know how long she stood still, nor did she care. All Robin could hope for is she would never have to see the woman that had stolen father away again.

Maybe now that she could no longer see herself father could bear to see her again. It was the small hope that carried her away from the destruction and back to bed, where she stayed for a long time.

Robin knew that a feeling of perfection would never come to her again.

Robin was starving.

Food had not come to her like it usually had for a few days now. Appearing by what she could only assume was magic by her bedside at the beginning and end of each day. It had always been a sign for her that father was watching out for her, now that one small glimmer of hope was gone along with him.

Robin had been occupying her bed for longer than she should have. She knew she should be walking, practicing her magic, doing something besides just lying down. Even with these thoughts she couldn't find the strength to do anything, so she continued.

Suddenly there was a soft knock on her door.

Robin bolted upright and stared at the door. She was sure somebody had knocked but could not bring herself to hope that after all this time it would open once again. Her heart raced as the door slowly started to open. Time seemed to move agonizingly slow as it slid along her floor and revealed the person who had come to visit her at long last.

Once the door had opened to its fullest the man on the other end started to come towards her. His dark cloak billowed behind him as he walked. His piercing red eyes stood out from his pale complexion. He walked tiredly, but with a sort of confidence Robin could place on no other.

Father smiled when he reached her bed.

Tears prickled at Robin's eyes as she took Father in for the first time in so long. He reached out and cupped her face to wipe the tears away. He pulled Robin into his arms and held her there as the tears overflowed.

Father's grip on her tightened as she coiled her arms around his neck and sobbed. With every second Father held her she could feel all the worry and terrible emotions she had been feeling simply drain away.

A sense of warmth grew from her chest to envelop her entire being. With one final hiccupping sob she pressed herself deeper into gather's arms. Robin smiled with cracked lips and clutched Father with all her strength to just be near him, to make sure her father had really returned.

Sadly, the moment came when they had to separate. Father lifted her arms off of him but kept her hands safely wrapped in his. He seemed happier than Robin had ever seen him and that made her happy too,

"Little one," The deep voice of his was music to her ears, and she was enraptured with every word. "It is time. Everything you and I have done has led up to this moment. It is time for you ascension." Robin blinked confusedly,

"Ascension?" She paused as her voice cracked from underuse. "Father I don't understand. Can't we just stay here?" Father shook his head excitedly and pulled her from the bed.

Robin's empty stomach launched into her throat at the sudden movement and she felt sick. Father wrapped an arm around her shoulder and steadied her as the world righted itself. Then father began to move to exit her room.

Robin's stomach had somehow managed to leaver her body entirely when she realized where she was going. She had never left her room before and was terrified of what was outside. Would there be people there? Were they like father? Or were they all like that woman? Father's smile warmed her spirits just enough to make it out the door.

A stone wall was placed right in front of her and father. The only directions to go were long, narrow, similarly built pathways to her right and left that seemed to continue on for eternity. Father gently steered her to the right and the dim path seemed to swallow them whole.

Robin closed her eyes in fright and held on tighter to father. She let him lead her through the dark unknown. She let herself forget about the fear and focused on father, which calmed her nerves somewhat.

As she walked a noise that she once passed on as her ears playing tricks on her began to get louder. It wasn't as loud as the padding of her bare feet on the stone floor but it was off somewhat. It sounded strangely human, like the noise the woman had made when father attacked her. At the same time she could not place it.

As they got closer she could hear individual voices yelling. They were mixed in with a mass of other voices doing the same horrible scream. The more Robin heard the noise she felt stronger, and soon forgot about her hunger. Father suddenly stopped and took his guiding hands off her shoulders. Robin worriedly opened her eyes and gasped.

The room Robin was standing in was massive in size. It was huge in all directions and made of stone of a color that she had never seen before. Large pillars stretched from the floor to a high above ceiling were scattered throughout the room. Right below where she now stood was an alter with a shield placed on it.

Right below that was a corpse.

He wore armor in every place but his right arm and his head. Even faced down to the ground she could see his muscled arm bore a seal from one of her old storybooks. His matt of blue hair only confirmed that the man was a Ylissian. Her sympathy for the man evaporated upon this realization and she looked away from the man,

"Robin," father spoke calmly. Robin looked to him and found him kneeling before her. "It is time for you to become perfection."

The screams grew louder in her ears.

Robin tried to speak, to ask what could possibly be going on, but father silenced her with a raised hand. "I know you must have questions about where I have been or what we are doing here right now." Robin nodded in agreement. "But all I ask of you right now is for your trust. If you touch the shield on the alter, all will be well Robin."

Normally Robin felt that she would have stopped to consider the request. Tried to think of the consequences of touching the strange shield. However, father had asked for her trust, nothing more. All she had to do to prove that is touch a shield.

She would have done so much more for him, and Robin picked up the shield without another thought. As soon as she touched it the screaming grew louder, and louder until it consumed her thoughts.

Robin's vision blurred and she collapsed to the ground. She felt strange and could hear nothing but the screams. She briefly considered that one of them could be her own. Her senses gave way to the screams much like her body did and she looked at father once more.

The last thing she saw was his smile.

Hello everybody and welcome to a little project I've been doing on the side for a few months now. It was inspired when I was browsing this section and I came across a story that was meant to be a comedy and depicted Validar as a decent father. Then this happened. I've got a few more ideas for one-shots in my head right now so you might see a few more of these in the coming months. Thats all there really is to say besides thanks for reading! Hope you enjoy!