Chapter Text
Morning again. The sun’s blinding rays, and bright skies only brought with them the painful reminder that today would be another day spent on a fruitless search. Such thoughts now constantly clogged the Exalt’s mind, as his boots shoved through the damp grass and mud that still contained his footprints from the day prior. Trudging along the very same path he had taken everyday for the past two years. Yet, even his own familiarity with course didn’t make the trek any easier on his wavering mind. Lissa and Fredrick had once aided him with his tireless search, but after a year they had given up, leaving Chrom to his near obsessive attempts to locate the former tactician.
Exhausted eyes dragged lazily along the beaten ground, as his eyelids struggled to remain open. Dark circles now the king’s most prominent feature upon his hollow face wrinkled with his skin when he squinted against the harsh morning light. A hand ran through his greasy hair, and he pushed his aching legs forward. Trembling feet that had once been able to walk for hours now struggled to walk this path the three or four times he forced himself through it each day. His cheat heaved, and he panted as he walked; fallen so far from grace. Muscles that had once worked effortlessly to move him could barely motivate him to step off of the road to venture towards the end of his route. He couldn’t recall the amount of weight he had lost in these two years, but he knew Fredrick’s constant efforts to care for him were very likely the only thing keeping him afloat.
A heavy, forced breath beat past his chapped his lips, as a mocking smile formed on the Exalt’s lips. He tried to sallow the anxiety that always settled within his stomach when he drew ever closer to that damnable field he had first found the tactician in. Heart skipping a beat uncontrollably. He had walked this path at least a thousand times, and, even still a small part of him wanted to believe that one day he would find Robin sleeping on the ground all over again. And, this time, he wouldn’t allow himself to make the same mistakes he had in the past. The mistakes that still haunted him beside the always present image of Robin vanishing before his eyes; slipping through his fingers like sand.
He bit his lip. Willing away the thoughts. All too often he found himself focused entirely on the tactician instead of repairing the damage he had done to his kingdom and family in his grief. But those ideas didn’t bring peace to him any more than the regrets revolving around Robin’s sacrifice. His sister would be ashamed of him now.
Shaking his head to clear his mind, and cling to what little sanity the Exalt still held, he crossed over onto the lush grass of the field. Feeling it give way beneath his body, as he stepped out onto to its normally peaceful surface. Wet grass swayed slowly in the gentle breeze; the only motion that settled onto the quiet field. As if to Mock Chrom as he huffed against the wind. He had been here so many times he had memorized every pattern, abnormal or not, that nestled itself into the ground. Still he felt his heart stop for a brief moment when he noticed, rather far from where he stood, the grass seemed to be pushing against something, flowing in a manner he had not recalled in years. But with it came a lump in his throat that he could barely manage to force back down. So many times he had thought he had seen something here only to discover it had been his imagination playing tricks on him.
But he couldn’t stop himself no matter how much his mind tried to reason with his throbbing heart, and he was sprinting towards the spot before he even had the chance to register that he was moving. Eyes widening slowly, and hopefully as he neared despite his better judgment. A dent in the grass was clear now, and he nearly tripped over his own two feet as he sped up. Running faster than he had in more time than he cared to acknowledge, as he threw himself onto the ground before the lump cradled within the grass. Something burned at the corners of his eyes, as they wandered over the familiar colors of a dark robe, and cream pants. A hood he knew all too well was drawn up over the stranger’s face.
With shaking hands, Chrom reached forward carefully, tugging back the hood as quietly as he could manage in his breathless state. Revealing white hair, and a smooth face that looked at him only in dreams now. Yanking his hand away, he felt his lips quiver, and heart stop. “R-Robin?” He muttered the name he had so longed to get the chance to say once again. But his voice shook, and he found himself calling the other man’s name as a hopeful question rather than a joyful cry.
Beside him the stranger shifted slightly, and his eyes opened slowly. A smile formed on Chrom’s lips, as he tried to keep himself from bringing the other man into his arms; in an attempt to keep himself as calm as he could manage in his current state. “I see you’re awake,” He forced out, trying to remain light-hearted, as he extended his hand to the tactician.
Yet, Robin’s eyes only widened in confusion, as he sat up quickly. Hands pressing firmly into the grass, as he scooted back from Chrom. A hand rushed up to cup his aching head into his palm, as a hiss of pain slipped past his mouth. No, Chrom found himself repeating the word over and over again in his head, as he gazed down on the man before him. No, it can’t be… He didn’t want the possibility to even cross his mind, but the more he looked at Robin the worse the situation became. He found his outstretched hand shaking, and his arm throbbing from the effort it took for him to keep his offered hand extended.
“Robin,” He repeated, a bit more firmly this time. Briefly the white-haired man tore his attention away from the pain surging through his body to glance at Chrom. Mild relief washed over Chrom at the man’s response to his name. If he could recall his name, he remembered then, right? Coughing to clear his throat, Chrom managed to utter the first line he had said to the tactician when he had found him in this very spot the first time around, “There are better places to take a nap then on the ground, you know?” Praying that his words could jog some part of the weary man’s memories.
“Who are you?” Robin managed to breathe through gritted teeth, eyes fixed on Chrom with a look of concern and confusion. Chrom felt his heart drop into his stomach, as horror washed over his face. Mouth locking tightly to avoid dropping open, and gaze falling to the ground in a pitiful attempt to choke back his own fears.
No, this can’t be happening. He tried to convince himself that he was merely dreaming, but he had felt the stiffness of the fabric that made up Robin’s hood against his own skin when he had moved it. The other’s voice was vivid, not faded like it was in his dreams. And he could feel the pain of his own chest along with the throbbing of his worn feet. He could still see the tracks he had made in the mud on the way here. And he could feel the softness of the cool breeze brushing against the bare skin of his arm.
Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to speak, “My name is Chrom. Do you remember me, Robin?” He kept saying the other’s name, as if to confirm that this was real; that this person before him was truly Robin. He found himself praying that somehow this was all dream. Yet, guilt still weaved itself into his mind. Robin was alive, shouldn’t that be good enough for him?
Gripping his head harder, Robin glanced away from the man before him. Knuckles turning white with the pressure he was forcing against his own skull As if digging through the foggiest part of his mind for an answer to Chrom’s question. “No,” He finally managed to say. “Robin,” He added quietly, and Chrom felt his heart break. “Is that my name?” When the other man finished his question, Chrom could barely keep himself from shouting everything at him. But he bit his lip, and held himself back. This wasn’t Robin’s fault. This was his fault. It had always been his fault. If only he had stopped Robin. If only he had fought Grima in Robin’s place. But those were selfish thoughts.
“It is. Do you remember anything at all?” His voice was desperate, pleading, and even a fool could have noticed it.
Robin offered the other a nervous, almost distrustful glance that made Chrom’s already strained heart struggle all the more. “No. Not much, I’m afraid.”
Those words were like a dagger plunged straight into the Exalt’s chest. “I’m so sorry, Robin.” He tore himself away from the glare that set itself upon Robin’s features. “Will you trust me?” The other looked tired, and he could see his face creasing in pain. Right now the best thing Chrom could do for the tactician was give him somewhere safe to rest. Drilling him now would only further hurt the other.
Hesitation made silence sink in around them. Chrom couldn’t blame the other man if he turned him down. And he felt his odds slipping away with each second that passed until Robin managed to mutter, “Yes.”