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Chapter Text

Chrom hadn’t thought that anything could outdo the blend of nerves and excitement he’d felt on his wedding day.

Apparently, the words “I’m pregnant” could.

It had been five hours, and Chrom still hadn’t stopped pacing his office. He was supposed to be working, technically. Answering urgent letters from the nobility or some such thing. But every time he tried to sit down, the memory of Robin (his wife!) telling him that she was pregnant (with his baby!) set all of his nerves afire and forced him back up and about.

“What if I drop the baby?” Chrom asked, not for the first time. “I dropped Lissa once. Father let me hold her once and I dropped her.”

“Yes, milord. I recall.” Frederick stood by the door, as composed as ever. “You may have noticed that milady Lissa survived the ordeal of scraping her elbow.”

Chrom refused to be placated. “Yeah, well. I was shorter back then. But now…” He froze, another dreadful possibility rearing its head. “What if I hurt the baby just by holding them? Like that training sword I snapped last week?” Chrom could already feel the guilt and horror tearing at his heart. “Maybe I shouldn’t be allowed to hold them. Ever. Or see them, because I’ll be a terrible father, and—”

“Perhaps these are matters you should discuss with milady Robin,” Frederick interrupted, an edge of impatience creeping into his calm voice. “I suspect she will have an opinion on you refusing to hold your child.”

“Robin?” Chrom balked. “I can’t talk to Robin about this!”

Frederick didn’t quite sigh, but he certainly implied one in the weary look he gave. “…Whyever not, milord? She is your wife.”

She is your wife—even in the midst of his panic, the words filled Chrom with wistful joy. It was true. Robin was his wife. They’d married two months past, surrounded by blossoming flowers and the cheers of their friends, and every moment since had been nothing but pure bliss. A dream from which he hoped never to wake.

And yet…

“Robin has enough to worry about,” Chrom said. “I don’t need to add my silly insecurities to her problems.”

It was true. While he was wasting time daydreaming, Robin never stopped working. If she wasn’t reviewing tax records, then she was designing new infrastructure for the commonfolk. Or inventing practical new spells. Or creating plans to reorganize the army, or teaching at one of the new schools, or hatching schemes to matchmake their friends…the list went on. And now she was pregnant (with his child!) on top of all that. The last thing she needed was to find out her husband was terrified to be a father.

Frederick stared at him for a long moment. “…When milady Lissa stopped by earlier, she mentioned that milady Robin was behaving rather oddly.”

“What?!” Chrom’s heart stopped. “Robin…is she injured? Is she all right? Is—"

“I must claim ignorance, milord,” Frederick answered placidly. “But milady said she was in the royal library. Perhaps you should check on her.”

“Right. Yes, of course.”

Chrom barely managed to bid Frederick farewell before dashing down the hall, his mind frazzled with worry. At least now he had a goal to direct his nervous energy, though he would have preferred pacing endlessly in his office to any misfortune falling on his wife.

It wasn’t far between his office and the private library that formed part of the royal family’s suites, but the distance felt endless. By the time he arrived at the heavy oak door, Chrom had already imagined a thousand different ways that Robin might be in trouble. Without bothering to knock, he shoved the door open and rushed inside.

Thankfully, it didn’t take long to spot his wife’s distinctive white hair. Robin was seated at a table near the entrance, surrounded by several mountains of books and scrolls. Even by her standards, it was a lot—but Chrom didn’t have time to wonder about that. Instead, his eyes roamed over her, desperately searching for any sign of injury. To his relief, he found none.

Except—Robin may not have been physically injured, but there was something off. She hadn’t noticed his arrival for one, too engrossed in her research. That wasn’t too unusual, but combined with the slight furrow of her brows and the way she pressed the quill pen a little too firmly into the parchment, Chrom realized that whatever topic she was working on was more stressful than fun. He frowned. No wonder Lissa had said she was acting strange. Research should never make Robin unhappy.

“Robin.”

She didn’t look up, hand never pausing as she continued to write. Chrom took a step closer and called her name again, but it wasn’t until he planted his hands on the table that Robin startled to attention, her beautiful brown eyes wide as she stared up at him. Despite his concern, Chrom couldn’t help but fall into them, mesmerized as always by the quick thoughts dancing within.

“Chrom? When did you get here?”

“I—”

“Never mind, you have perfect timing.” Robin was already looking away, digging through her piles of parchment to hand him a thick stack. “Here’s a list of materials we’ll need. Please have it ordered immediately.”

Chrom looked between her and the papers, baffled. Robin could certainly get caught up in her work when focused, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever been dismissed quite so quickly before. Hoping that the list might provide some clue, he started reading the first few items—but his confusion only grew at the detailed order of wood varieties and sizes.

“Er. Robin,” he began hesitantly. She didn’t look up from her notes. “What is this list for, exactly?”

“The nursery.” Robin grabbed another scroll from the pile, eyes scanning it faster than he could follow. “We’ll need a variety of furniture. A crib for when the baby is first born. An updated version for when they start to crawl. And then one that’s low to the ground but with high bars once they learn to walk. Of course we’ll also need a play pen too. And all the edges will need to be carefully smoothed so the baby can’t cut themselves or get any splinters. I’ve drawn up several designs that we can discuss later.”

“Wow, uh…you’ve really thought this through.” Chrom flipped the multi-page list, marvelling at how much his wife had accomplished while he was off panicking in his office.

“Yes. Well. Raising a child is a huge responsibility.” Robin tapped her foot against the table leg. Chrom narrowed his eyes. It was a rare habit of hers, one he’d only ever seen during the direst of strategy meetings. “Most people know to avoid physical injury, but did you know parents can cause long-lasting emotional trauma without even realizing it? One wrong word at the right moment, and the child can have anxieties for the rest of their life…which is why I’m preparing a set of scripts for every occasion, so we’ll always know the right thing to say. I hope you don’t mind memorizing them, but you’ll have roughly eight months—”

“Robin.” Chrom laid the list on the table and leaned forward, resting his hand on hers. “Are you…nervous?”

It was a difficult concept for him to accept. Robin, nervous? He’d seen her face down evil kings and monsters alike without flinching, had witnessed her determination when she’d sprung brilliant schemes from hopeless situations. From the moment they’d met, she’d been flawless at everything she did, at least in his opinion. The idea that she might be worried about raising a child was baffling—Chrom already knew with every fibre of his being that she’d be perfect.

“I…well…” Robin glanced up at him briefly, then stared down at the table. “No. Of course not. It’s nothing to worry about. We should discuss the nursery’s colour scheme instead. I’m thinking dove grey and—”

“Robin.” As gently as he could, Chrom turned her hand so that he could lace their fingers together. “You can always tell me if something’s bothering you. I’m your other half, aren’t I?”

“I…” She hesitated a moment longer, but his smile was finally enough to break down her guard. Robin sighed, squeezing his hand in return. “I meant what I said. Raising a child is a huge responsibility. And I’m excited! I can’t wait to meet them. But…” Her grip tightened, almost painfully so. “I have no idea how to be a parent. I—don’t exactly have any memories of my own.”

Ah.

Chrom stroked his thumb over the back of her hand, thinking. It was easy to forget about his wife’s amnesia—she was always so competent, it seemed impossible that her memories only went back a year. She didn’t like to bring it up, but Chrom knew it bothered her more than she let on. Clearly, her unease ran even deeper than he’d realized.

He wished he could fix the problem by telling Robin that he knew she’d be the best mom ever, but Frederick had been telling him the same thing for the past five hours to no avail. Then again…

Perhaps these are matters you should discuss with milady Robin.

“You’re not alone in your worries,” Chrom said with a sheepish smile. “I’ve been bothering Frederick all day with my fears that I’ll be a terrible dad.”

“What?!” Robin gaped at him like he’d just confessed to wanting to join the Grimleal. “Chrom, I’m sorry but that’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever said! You’re obviously going to be a wonderful father. Everyone knows that.”

“Will I?” He hadn’t quite understood the source of his anxiety earlier, but as always, speaking to Robin made everything clear. “I barely remember my mother. And my father—well.” Chrom grimaced, painful memories still aching in his chest. “He’s certainly an example of how not to be a parent.”

Robin gave his hand a sympathetic squeeze. “You’ll never be like him, Chrom,” she said, voice brimming with a confidence he struggled to accept. “But I suppose you have a point. Neither of us has a frame of reference for this.”

Chrom nodded in agreement, but he was surprised to feel some of the tension lift off his shoulders. It was strange. All their conversation had achieved was a mutual realization of inexperience, yet optimism was slowly overtaking his fears. It seemed Frederick had been onto something.

“Maybe we don’t know what we’re doing. But when has facing a new challenge ever stopped us before?” As Robin tilted her head, considering his words, Chrom found himself unable to hold back a grin. “I’m sure we’ll make mistakes. But we’ll figure this thing out, Robin. Together, like we always do.”

It was fascinating to watch the stress fade away from her features, replaced by the enchanting gleam of hope and determination in her eyes. Before he could stop himself, Chrom leaned down to kiss his wife, once again marvelling that the most perfect person in the world had chosen to marry him.

“You’re right,” Robin said when they finally broke apart. The confidence in her smile was breathtaking, and nearly enough to make him dive back in. “As long as we have each other, we can do anything.” Unable to resist any longer, Chrom moved in for another kiss. But Robin was quicker, her attention back on the stacks of parchment. “That said, we really do need to start preparing. What are your thoughts on baby clothes? I’m not sure if shoes are necessary for a newborn, but what if their feet get cold on outings…”

Suppressing a laugh, Chrom dragged over the nearest chair and sat down, nodding in agreement as Robin (his wife!) planned their future.

He couldn’t wait for it to become reality.

Chapter Text

Once upon a time, in the snowy kingdom of Faerghus, there lived a handsome prince named Dimitri. He was beloved by all the people for his kind heart and earnest nature, and all rejoiced to know that he would one day be their just and noble king.

Unfortunately, it was not to be. For on the prince’s eighteenth birthday, a great black dragon landed at the castle gates, and announced that if the king did not give her his son, she would burn the entire kingdom to the ground.

King Lambert, who loved his only son more than anything, begged the dragon to reconsider. He offered her every jewel in the kingdom’s treasury and all the gold in the land. He even presented her with Areadbhar, the ancient symbol of his family’s power. But the dragon would not be swayed.

In his desperation, the king hatched a plot to trick the dragon by dressing another boy in the prince’s clothes, but he was stopped by Prince Dimitri himself.

As compassionate as he was strong, the prince could not bear the thought of anyone suffering in his name. And so he walked to the gates of the castle where the dragon waited, and bowed to her as if she were a visiting queen.

“My lady dragon,” he called out without even a quiver in his voice. “If I give myself to you, will you promise not to harm the people of Faerghus?”

The dragon bowed her own great head. “I promise, Heir of Blaiddyd.”

“Then I am at your command.”

The people wept in the streets for the loss of their prince, but he faced them with a bright smile and begged them not to lose heart. Then despite his own fears, Dimitri hugged his father one last time and walked out the castle gates to meet his fate.

But instead of devouring him in a single bite like all had expected, the dragon lowered her head to the ground and told the prince to climb atop her back. Hiding his surprise, Dimitri followed her orders and settled down between two rose-pink spikes. Without another word, the dragon spread her wings and soared up into the sky.

All day they flew without stopping. The prince soon overcame his fear and admired the countryside beneath. He’d never been far from his home after all, and certainly not at such a height.

But as night drew near, Dimitri felt his unease return when the dragon finally swooped down to a stone cottage hidden in the mountains.

“There is food inside,” she said when they landed. “And a bed where you can sleep. I will be here if you need me.”

As polite as ever, the prince bowed and expressed his gratitude before entering the cottage. His wariness increased, for though the cottage was perfectly empty, a roaring fire burned in the hearth and a humble feast was laid upon the table. Despite his great hunger, the prince could only nibble at the food.

He wasn’t sure what to make of his situation. But as time passed, Dimitri’s kind heart overcame his fear. Unable to bear the thought of the dragon hungry and alone in the cold night air, he called out, “My lady dragon, won’t you come inside and eat with me?”

At once the door opened, and the prince faced her with courage in his heart. But instead of the dragon he expected, a beautiful woman walked into the room, with pale green hair and eyes that glowed like moonlight.

“Thank you for your invitation, Prince Dimitri,” she said. “For I could not enter unless you asked.”

The mysterious woman did not laugh at his confusion, but the sparkle in her eyes was mesmerizing.

“I am the dragon.”

It was difficult to believe, but the prince noticed then the pointed tips of her ears, and realized she was one of the Nabateans of legend.

“Your Grace.” Dimitri bowed in reverence, for it was said that Nabateans were children of the goddess. “Pray forgive me for not recognizing who you were.”

The Nabatean shook her lovely head, and offered him a hand. “My name is Byleth,” she said, with the faintest hint of smile.

Byleth.

The prince repeated the name in his heart, and knew that he would never love another. When he took her hand it was small and warm, but strong as she led him to the table.

“I could once change my form at will,” Byleth explained as she began to eat. “But the evil witch Cornelia cursed me, that I be a dragon by day and a human by night. Worse, if I do not break the curse within ten years, I will be forced to obey her will forever. And already eight years have passed.”

Rage burned in the prince’s heart at this injustice. “How vile!” he exclaimed. “If there is any way that I might help, I beg you to let me know.”

“Your heart is as kind as the rumours claimed,” Byleth said. “If you want to help, then you must stay here of your own free will for one year. But if you ever want to leave, tell me and I will return you to your kingdom, and leave your people unharmed.”

“I will stay with you forever,” the prince announced, for he already felt himself to be desperately in love. And when the Nabatean smiled, slight but radiant, he knew it to be true.

As the months passed, Dimitri felt happier than he ever had. He slept away the days and stayed up all night, spending his time in Byleth’s strange but charming company. Each sunset she would appear to shed her dragon skin, and each sunrise she would put it back upon her shoulders and fly away.

Nearly a year went by in perfect bliss, until one night he awoke to a large crash. When the prince rushed outside, he was shocked to find Byleth lying on the ground, gravely wounded.

“The witch Cornelia sends many hunters after me,” she explained. “One finally struck true.”

Dimitri carried her inside and did his best to tend her injuries, but his skills were not enough to heal her. As dawn approached, he begged her not to leave, knowing that she would surely die, but Byleth would not be swayed. At last, in desperation, the prince grabbed her dragon skin and tossed it into the fire so that she could not transform.

But Byleth’s eyes were wide with sorrow. “My curse was almost broken,” she said softly, as she changed into a dragon. “Only one month remained. But by burning my dragon skin, I must now go to the witch Cornelia.”

The prince cried out in horror, his heart overwhelmed by guilt. The dragon spread her wings, but she lingered one more moment.

“If you still wish to help me, then seek out the witch Cornelia before the end of next year. I can tell you no more.”

After she flew away, the prince collapsed onto the ground and sobbed for many hours. But when the moon rose high in the sky, and he remembered his beloved’s eyes of moonlight, he took heart and vowed to free her from the curse, even at the cost of his own life.

And so Dimitri set out on a journey. He wandered for days, then weeks, then months. All across Fodlan he travelled, asking for news of a black dragon and the witch Cornelia everywhere he went. As the months passed and he came no closer, the prince nearly lost himself to despair. But at last he came across a cottage deep in the woods, where there lived a young witch who knew the name Cornelia.

“You should stay far away from her!” the young witch exclaimed. Her large black tomcat hissed in agreement. But the prince’s tale of lost love touched her heart, and she agreed to help him. “Cornelia rules over the dread city of Shambhala. To reach it, you must cross the Sea of Glass and the Mountain of Ice, and then face the witch herself.”

It was an impossible journey for a mortal man, but the good witch was powerful despite her youth. She enchanted a pair of boots and a walking stick, and gave them to the prince. “With these boots, you may walk upon the Sea of Glass. And with this stick, you may climb the Mountain of Ice.” Last of all, she offered him a golden nut. “I don’t have the strength to fight Cornelia directly. But if you open this nut in your time of greatest need, it will provide you aid.”

Dimitri thanked the good witch profusely, avoiding the swipe of her black cat’s claws, and resumed his quest. Following her instructions, he soon came to the Sea of Glass. Just as the young witch had promised, he crossed it with ease on the magic boots. Next he arrived at the Mountain of Ice, and climbed its harsh slopes with the magic walking stick.

Even with the good witch’s aid, it was an arduous journey, and the prince was exhausted when he finally arrived at the edge of Shambhala. A kindly old woman took him in and fed him. As he rested, Dimitri watched an endless train of carriages passing by the woman’s hut.

“Who are all these people?” he asked.

“They are honoured guests of our queen, the great Cornelia,” the old woman explained with pride. “She has invited nobles from around the world to witness her tame a foul beast. For tomorrow, her spell on the Black Dragon of Zanado will finally be complete, and our city shall become the most powerful in the world.”

The prince was horrified to realize that the year was almost at its end, for time had been hard to track on his journey. After thanking the old woman for her kindness, he rushed toward the city’s gates, but could see no way to enter.

At last, he remembered the young witch’s final gift and broke open the golden nut. Inside, he found a handsome outfit of blue and silver, even more glorious than those he’d worn as a prince.

After shedding his ragged clothes and dressing in the bright new garments, Dimitri presented himself at the gates of Shambhala. Everyone who saw him was in awe of his handsome face and regal bearing, and the guards allowed him to enter without question. Word of the gallant young prince quickly spread throughout the city, until even the witch Cornelia had heard and summoned him at once.

When he arrived at her castle, Dimitri hid away his savage rage and smiled charmingly at the witch. He spoke to her pleasantly and kissed her hand, and confessed that he had heard rumours of her power and beauty, and come to Shambhala to see if they were true. Cornelia preened beneath his attention, and decided to make the prince her husband. Dimitri bowed his head modestly at the honour, but begged that he be allowed to see the Black Dragon first, to witness the full extent of the queen’s magical power.

The witch agreed, and brought him to the courtyard where a great black dragon lay chained to the ground. Her luminous green eye widened at the sight of Dimitri, but she did not move even as he pulled free from Cornelia’s arm and approached. He rested a hand atop her head, and smiled.

“I cannot marry you, Cornelia,” the prince announced. “For I already love another. My beloved lady Byleth, who lies before me now. Your curse will no longer bind her, no more than these feeble chains.”

And with the great strength that ran in his bloodline, Dimitri snapped the iron chains with ease. He then took Byleth’s head between his hands and placed a kiss upon her brow, whispering so that only she could hear—

“I love you.”

At once, a great light surrounded the dragon, and Byleth returned to her human form. She smiled up at him, more blinding than the sun, and drew him into a kiss. “I love you too, Dimitri.”

Behind them, the witch Cornelia flew into a rage at being tricked. But she was so angry that she burst into flames and died, releasing the people of Shambhala from her wicked rule.

Free at last, Byleth resumed her dragon form and carried Dimitri back to his kingdom. The people rejoiced to find their prince returned, and celebrated even greater when he introduced his beautiful beloved. No one was happier than King Lambert, who wept as he embraced his son and kissed his future daughter on both cheeks, all misfortune of the past forgotten.

And so the prince and dragon married, living happily forever after.

Chapter Text

“At the first strike of midnight, you must thrust this blade into the prince’s heart and rid our world of Falchion’s last wielder.”

“As you command, Father. I will not fail.”

Robin climbed the seemingly endless steps of Ylisstol Castle, trying her best to look like a nice, normal noble lady. Unfortunately, it was even harder than she’d feared. It had been years since she last wore finery—since her mother’s death, though she pushed the bitter memories deep down in her heart—and at the time she’d been too young for the heavy skirts of adulthood. But far, far worse were the enchanted glass slippers. The height of fashion, apparently. As she nearly tripped for a third time, Robin could think of much less flattering words to describe them.

She couldn’t afford to dwell on her discomfort though. When she finally reached the top of the steps, Robin forced her most winning smile and approached the nearest guard.

“Your invitation, my lady?” he asked with a polite nod of the head.

Refusing to let her hand tremble, Robin handed him the card. She’d hoped that the guards might grow lazy as the night dragged on, but this one was thorough as he checked over the intricate design. Sweat gathered at the back of her neck, but Robin kept her smile firmly in place, hands clasped before her like a perfect young lady.

After what felt like an eternity, the guard finally nodded in approval. “Please enjoy the ball, my lady.”

Robin swept past him with her shoulders straight, even as her body longed to sag with relief. Then again, it was far too early to celebrate. Her hardest task still remained.

Saving Prince Chrom from assassination.

Her father certainly hadn’t intended for her to overhear the plot. But in his usual arrogance, Validar hadn’t bothered to check if his disobedient daughter was hiding under the bushes, desperate to learn the truth behind his recent smirks and experiments with dark magic. Robin hadn’t managed to hear everything from his conversation with her adopted sister Aversa, but she’d heard enough to know that something must be done.

Of course, even if Validar had known that she was aware of his schemes, he likely wouldn’t have cared. What could Robin do, after all? Ever since her mother’s death, ever since she’d started to rebel against her father and his twisted beliefs, Validar had disavowed her as a daughter and forced her to live as a servant instead. No more private tutors or heaps of books. No more fine gowns or luxurious meals. She was nothing more than a helpless maid, without any connections or resources in the world.

If she would only become the woman she was meant to be, Validar would remind her as she scrubbed ashes from the hearth, then all the joys of life would be returned. But Robin refused to let him break her.

It had been surprisingly easy to come up with a plan to thwart this latest scheme, but then again Robin had been trained by the best—her mother. The difficult part was enacting it.

First, she’d stolen Aversa’s invitation to the royal ball while cleaning up her sister’s room. It was difficult, but her secret studies in magic (from her mother’s books hidden in the attic) proved enough to forge a copy. With no one the wiser, she’d snuck the original back in place.

Next, she’d waited for Aversa to depart for the royal ball, gorgeous enough to catch the eye of any prince. Once her sister was gone and her father had descended to the dark depths of the cellar, Robin had cast a spell to change her ragged old dress into a splendid gown, and a pumpkin and four mice into a handsome horse-drawn carriage. It had taken more power than she’d expected though—her glamour would likely only last to midnight, if Robin had to guess. But considering the timing of her father’s plot, it should be enough.

Finally, she’d snuck back into Aversa’s room to “borrow” a pair of enchanted glass slippers, and with the dreadful things upon her feet set out for Ylisstol Castle.

And now that she was in the castle, only one step remained—to find Prince Chrom and convince him that his life was in mortal danger.

Head held high, Robin strode into the ballroom. It was the noise that struck her first, but the crowds of people dancing and laughing was no less disorienting. It had been years since the last time she’d been around so many people, and to her dismay, Robin felt panic churning in her stomach. How was she supposed to find the prince in this mess?

Clenching her fists tightly enough that her fingers dug into her palms, Robin forced herself to walk into the crowds. Freaking out wouldn’t solve anything. Instead, she smiled politely and gave vague nods as she passed through the nobility, but her gaze was sharp, searching for the distinctive blue hair of the prince.

Unfortunately, her eyes caught on a far more familiar shade of white instead.

Robin turned away quickly, her heart racing. She ducked behind a cluster of noblemen and prayed that Aversa hadn’t noticed her. They weren’t the only people with white hair in the ballroom—it was a common shade for those of Plegian descent—but rare enough that it would surely catch her sister’s attention. Hopefully the fancy dress would be enough to avoid her suspicion from a distance, but if Aversa got too close and saw her face…

She needed to find a better vantage point to seek out the prince. Somewhere she could watch without being seen. Eyes darting around, Robin located a balcony half-hidden by pillars, with a gauzy curtain falling across it to provide privacy. She doubted anyone would be out there on such a cold autumn night, especially when they could be enjoying the pleasures of a royal ball.

Robin made her way to the balcony without incident. She darted past the curtain and pressed herself to the wall, scanning the ballroom to make sure Aversa hadn’t followed her.

“Oh!”

There was someone behind her. Robin spun around to find a young man leaning over the balcony. A stupidly handsome man, her mind unhelpfully supplied, and one who apparently wasn’t affected by cold weather considering his shirt only had one sleeve. For a moment, they simply stared at each other.

“Uh. Sorry,” the man said. Robin wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for, but the line of thought grew muddled as she found herself unfairly distracted by his sheepish smile. “I wasn’t expecting to see anyone else out here. You hiding from someone too?”

“Ah. Yes,” Robin replied warily. She straightened up slowly, trying to pretend like everything was normal.

“I can see why. I’m guessing everyone in there wants to dance with you.”

Robin blinked, utterly baffled by his comment. Her confusion must have shown in her expression, for the man’s friendly grin dropped away in an instant, replaced by panic.

“Wait. Sorry. That’s way too forward, isn’t it? I didn’t mean it like—well I mean, I did, but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, or…um…” He looked away abruptly, his face bright red. “I’ll just go now and leave you here in peace.”

Robin still wasn’t sure what was happening. But as the man began to march past her, eyes fixed firmly on the ground, light from the ballroom fell onto his hair—his blue hair. His sleeveless shirt, his desire to escape the crowds—suddenly it all clicked into place.

“Wait. You’re Prince Chrom?”

He hesitated, looking resigned as he glanced in her direction. “…I am.”

“Wonderful!” Robin grabbed his arm in excitement, barely noticing as his flush deepened. “There’s something important I have to tell you.”

His eyes darted between her hand and her face. “Uh.”

“You’re in—”

“Chrom! There you are!” Without warning, the curtain was shoved aside by a girl with blonde hair and an annoyed expression. “You can’t just keep running away in the middle of the ball! You know Emm needs you to—wait.”

The girl’s eyes widened at the sight of Robin, and her jaw nearly dropped to the floor when she noticed her hand on the prince’s arm. Abruptly, Robin realized what it looked like. She yanked back her hand, blood rushing to her face, but it was too late. The girl was grinning now, eyes alight with mischief.

“Lissa,” the prince began in a strangled voice. “It’s not—"

“Oh. Oh, I see. So that’s how it is.” The girl—Princess Lissa?!—gave him a patronizing pat on the shoulder. “Well, this works out perfectly! There’s no excuse for you not be in the ballroom looking happy if you have a girlfriend~”

“Lissa—!”

“Now get out and there and dance, Chrom!” She winked. “Or else!”

Without waiting for a response, the princess bounced back into the ballroom. Leaving Robin alone with Prince Chrom. Who was currently suspected of being her boyfriend. And very handsome.

“Ugh, sorry about her.” The prince’s face had reached alarming shades of red, and he couldn’t quite meet her eyes—not that Robin was doing any better. “I really do have to head back in though. Lissa will be insufferable if I don’t. But maybe, uh…” He scratched the back of his head. The gesture made the muscles in his arm flex, unfairly. “Maybe you wouldn’t mind dancing with me for real? You don’t have to of course! But we could talk about…whatever it is you wanted to tell me…”

Robin clenched the fabric of her skirts, and forced herself to focus on the assassination plot and nothing else. Dancing with the prince would make it difficult to keep a low profile. It was hardly ideal. But she needed to tell him about the plot, and—she realized suddenly, without any ulterior motives whatsoever—sticking close to the prince would make it easier to point out Aversa and protect him. Perhaps it wasn’t the most subtle approach, but she would make it work.

“Sure,” Robin said, offering the prince her hand.

Chrom looked a little stunned for a moment, but his growing smile was dangerously handsome. “Great,” he said, taking her hand within his own much larger one. “Yeah. Let’s do this.”

Together, they walked back into the ball. Eyes were immediately on them in a way that put Robin on edge. Leaning into the prince, she whispered, “Is it all right for us to dance over here? I’d…rather not go to the middle of the room.”

“Of course,” Chrom said, smiling gently as he stopped and pulled her into position. It was amazing how many different smiles he had. Robin thought she would have liked to catalogue them all.

“So…” Chrom led her in a slow circle. “You had something important to tell me?”

Right. The mission. That was much more important than analyzing the prince’s smiles. Robin leaned a little closer, grateful that he’d chosen basic dance steps.

“Your life is in danger,” she said lowly. Chrom raised his eyebrows, but didn’t interrupt. “My father and sister continue to worship Grima in secret. I’m not sure of all the details, but my sister Aversa is supposed to stab you through the heart at the first stroke of midnight.”

“I see…” Chrom studied her with a frown. “Thank you. Truly. I can’t imagine how difficult this must be for you.”

“It’s fine,” Robin replied, feeling awkward now that her goal was achieved. “It’s not like I’m close to either of them. Anyway. You’re the one in danger. So don’t worry about me.”

The prince shook his head. “That might be true, but you’re the one getting hurt. I don’t know what you have planned for after tonight, but if you need anything, just let me know. I’ll help you in any way I can.”

Chrom didn’t smile. He did something far more dangerous instead. Before Robin could prepare herself, his expression softened in a painfully earnest way that made her heart skip a beat. The two of them slowed as one, simply staring into each other’s eyes. How could someone who barely knew her possibly be so kind…

Distracted as she was, it took Robin a moment too long to recognize the tingling at the back of her neck.

Dark magic.

She was reaching for her skirts an instant later, pressing down onto the Elwind tome she’d strapped to her thigh just in case. But before she could summon the spell, something shoved her staggering back. A miasma spell burned through the air right where she’d been standing.

Chrom had pushed her, Robin realized in a daze. To protect her, surely, as he couldn’t have known that she was about to summon a barrier of wind.

But that moment of gallantry would now cost them everything.

In a flash, Aversa was behind him. Dark magic still crackled around her body, but far more concerning was the glowing dagger now pressed against the front of Chrom’s throat.

The ballroom was deathly silent. A nearby knight took a step forward, while another summoned fire in her hands. But Aversa only laughed and pushed the blade closer.

“I can hear you,” she purred without even bothering to turn around. “Try anything, and I’ll slash your prince’s throat at once.”

Robin sank her fingers into her skirts, mind racing. There had to be a way to save him. There had to be. She just needed more time…

“We both know that’s not true, Aversa,” Robin announced with a confidence she didn’t feel. If she could just keep her sister talking, surely she could come up with a plan. “The strike needs to be at midnight.”

Though she’d refused to learn her father’s dark magic, Robin had absorbed enough over the years to know that ritual was crucial to the most powerful curses. If Validar had ordered the killing to happen at midnight, then there must be a reason.

Unfortunately, Aversa merely laughed. “Oh? Someone’s been eavesdropping, I see. But do not fear, my traitorous little sister. I would prefer to wait for midnight and enact the Risen curse on dear Prince Chrom, but Father said I should prioritize killing him if anything went awry.” She smiled, twitching the dagger enough to draw a dark drop of blood. “So, yes. I will kill him immediately if anyone takes even a single step closer. Understood?”

Robin grit her teeth together. Aversa wasn’t displaying any of her usual tells, which meant she was likely telling the truth.

Robin had to find a solution, and fast. She tried shifting her weight, wondering if there was any way she could propel herself forward fast enough with magic, but realized that one of her glass slippers had fallen off when Chrom pushed her. Not for the first time that night, she cursed the infernal things. Her plan had hardly been good, but without a second shoe her balance would be far too unsteady to even attempt—

Wait.

Robin’s eyes darted to the side, where she found the slipper half hidden beneath a nearby table. She glanced at Aversa, then back to the shoe, and then in the opposite direction, pretending she was still searching for an answer even as her mind raced. Judging by the angle, she doubted that her sister could see the slipper.

When one of the knights began bargaining with Aversa, Robin made her move. Careful to keep looking around, she gently pressed the tome beneath her skirts and summoned Elwind. Rather than attack though, she grabbed the slipper with her magic and slowly guided it around her sister. Once it was safely behind her, Robin lifted the glass slipper into the air.

“It’s not a long wait anyway,” Aversa replied in a teasing lilt to whatever the brown-haired knight had said. She was enjoying herself too much, still oblivious to Robin’s scheme. “It should be midnight in a few more moments. You can wait patiently for that, can’t you?”

There would only be one chance. If she failed, the prince—no, Chrom—would surely die. When their eyes met, he smiled.

He trusted her. And with that thought, Robin used the remainder of her wind spell to slam the glass slipper into the back of Aversa’s head.

It wasn’t enough to incapacitate her. But it was enough to make her jolt forward, the dagger jumping away from Chrom’s throat. Robin started to cry out instructions to him, but there was no need—he moved as smoothly as if they’d planned out the attack together, grabbing Aversa’s wrist and forcing her to drop the weapon.

It was over.

Robin breathed a sigh of relief as the knights surged forward. Prince Chrom was safe for another day, and the people of Ylisse would still have their beloved protector. She wanted to go to him. Congratulate him. Thank him for defending her even if it had been foolish. Maybe even ask him more about that offer for help…

But then the first bell of midnight rang, and Robin remembered who she was. The daughter of a Grimleal, raised as a servant. Hardly a person suited to talk with a prince.

She turned, shoving through the crowd toward the exit. Already, she could feel the glamour on her clothes beginning to waver.

“Wait!”

There was a note of desperation in Chrom’s voice, but Robin forced herself to ignore it. She didn’t have time to waste.

She’d made it out of the castle and down the first few steps when the twelfth bell tolled and her opulent gown melted into rags. Only the single glass slipper remained—and clearly wanted revenge for what she’d done to its twin, as Robin tripped yet again and stumbled into the balustrade.

Heavy footsteps stormed after her. “Wait, please!”

Robin cursed under her breath. Chrom was certainly persistent. Bowing her head low, she shrank into the shadows, and prayed that he’d take her for a servant and keep rushing forward.

“There you are!” Instead he stopped before her, peering at her face with puppyish excitement. “Thank you. Again. You really saved me back there, and yet I don’t even know your name.” He laughed, too bright for the darkness of the night. “Thank the gods I was able to catch you, Miss…?”

“Robin,” she answered weakly. “Er. I’m surprised you recognize me without the dress.”

“I would recognize you anywhere,” Chrom said, that same unbearable earnestness from earlier back in full force. He clasped one of her hands gently within his own. “I could never forget your face, Robin.”

Robin had no idea how she was supposed to respond to that. Nothing in her mother’s old magic books had covered charming princes, and her usually clear thoughts were now frustratingly muddled.

“Well, uh. Great. That seems like everything, though. So I really should be going now…”

“No. Please.” His grip tightened. “You will surely be in danger if you leave. I meant what I said earlier—I want to help you in any way I can. Stay here, and I’ll help you find a place as a…a tactician! Or a magic teacher. Anything you want.”

She should leave. Robin knew that. Whatever was brewing between her and the prince was obviously dangerous. But unfortunately, she was discovering that she had an embarrassing weakness for Chrom’s sad puppy eyes.

Perhaps sensing her crumbling resolve, he leaned in toward her. “At least stay for the night, Robin. I can’t just let a lady walk home with only one slipper, after all.”

Robin snorted, and tried to ignore the way her stomach flipped at Chrom’s proud smile. Maybe it wasn’t her wisest decision. But what was one more reckless choice, after a night of mayhem? Slowly, she let a smile stretch across her face.

“All right. I’ll stay for the night, and…maybe longer.”

“You can stay forever,” Chrom immediately replied. He froze an instant later, colour rushing to his face. “Er. That is. I mean. You can stay as long as you like.”

Robin laughed, even as she felt her own blush rising. “Hm. Well when you put it like that…” Bouncing up onto her toes, she pressed a kiss against his cheek. “I suppose I’ll have to stay forever.”

Chapter Text

It had been years since Byleth last came to Fhirdiad.

One hundred, to be precise. Even now, even after centuries had passed and the city she once knew had changed beyond recognition, it was painful to walk the streets. She could still feel them, everywhere she went. Her friends. Her children. Him.

It was easy to imagine Annette and Mercedes chatting in the window of that café. To see Dedue standing by the bus stop, replying to emails as he waited. She saw Sylvain in a flash of red hair, Felix in a pouting teen. Ingrid and Ashe in two students eagerly talking about the latest superhero movie.

She saw him everywhere. Expected him to round every street corner, to smile brightly when their eyes met, wrapping her in his embrace and whispering beloved against her hair.

It had been centuries, but her disappointment was just as bitter every time.

Perhaps it would have been better for her to never return. It was what the others recommended, pity in their eyes. But Byleth could only stay away so long. Even if just once every hundred years, she had to pay her respects on this day.

The day he left her.

She clenched a bouquet of lilies and valerian to her chest as she approached Blaiddyd Castle. It was a historic site now, forever filled with tourists and guides, with a life quite different than she remembered. It made it easier, in some ways, for her to walk the ancient halls. Easier to ignore the memories and ghostly footsteps.

Byleth didn’t allow herself to linger though. The flowers drew enough eyes. Tears would only invite more questions. Instead, she walked the path burned forever in her memory. To the mausoleum. To him.

There were fewer people there, just a couple of security guards and the odd visitor. Byleth walked past the tombs in silnence, the carved faces of Blaiddyd monarchs and their consorts staring up eternally at the sky, until at last she came to him.

Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd

She traced his name in the stone. And her own, written beside his, false no matter how much she’d wished it to be true.

“I miss you,” she whispered. The words were hardly enough to convey the depths of longing she felt. “I wish I could see you again. Hold you again.” She leaned forward, pressing her lips to the stone effigy of his face. “I love you, Dimitri….”

“Oh! My apologies.”

That voice.

“I did not mean to…er. Intrude?”

Byleth wanted to look back more than anything. She wanted to run away just as badly. It couldn’t be him. She’d just be disappointed. Only despair lay in that path.

“Are you…all right, Miss?” A hesitant step forward. Painfully familiar. “I can call one of the guards if you need help, or—”

“Dimitri,” she said quietly, still staring at her husband’s carved face. Pretending the voice that couldn’t be him passed between his stone lips.

“Yes?” Confusion. “Have we met?”

Against her better judgement, Byleth looked at the man who couldn’t possibly be him.

When their eyes met, he smiled just like she remembered. “Oh,” he said, taking another step closer. When Byleth offered her hand, he didn’t hesitate to hold it. “You do look familiar. Like someone…someone I’ve been looking for my entire life…”

For the first time in centuries, Byleth felt hope quivering in her chest. “I know just what you mean…Dimitri.”

Chapter Text

The trip to Aether Resort was supposed to be a vacation. Everyone kept telling Dedue that he needed to relax. He’d even tried, briefly.

But then he’d walked by the Dining Hall and seen who stood behind the counter.

“I am ever so delighted to learn from you again, Chef Dedue!” Flayn was smiling up at him so genuinely, as if a horrific mess of charred mush and egg shells wasn’t lying right behind her. Dedue could not in good conscience subject the heroes of Askr to such a creation. “Whatever shall we make today?”

“Mushroom omelettes.” Nice and simple. Hard to mess up. Though as he eyed the broken shells in her last concoction, Dedue was careful to hand Flayn the mushrooms. “Slice these.”

He’d barely had a chance to start cracking eggs before the door jingled open. Behind him, he heard Flayn drop her knife and gasp.

“Our first visitor! Oh, look! Isn’t he adorable?”

There were many unique heroes in Askr. But Dedue had never seen anything like the creature already clasped within Flayn’s arms.

“A puppy!” she exclaimed. Dedue looked at the creature dubiously. He’d never seen a dog with proportions that round. “I shall name him Mr. Squishy!” Flayn booped it on the nose. “Are you hungry, Mr. Squishy? Would you like something to eat?”

“The food isn’t ready,” Dedue began to protest. But his voice failed him when he realized what Flayn meant. Horrified, he watched as she scooped up a chunk of her unholy creation and offered it to the creature. “Flayn, stop—”

The “dog” chomped it down in one bite, its strange smile never fading. Wiggling free from Flayn’s arms, it dropped onto the counter and began devouring the rest.

Flayn clapped in delight. “Look, Dedue! Mr. Squishy likes it!”

“I…see,” Dedue said slowly, a plan forming. “Maybe you should cook more food for…Mr. Squishy.”

“A wonderful idea!”

As Flayn scooped the creature back up and skipped off to look for ingredients, Dedue breathed a sigh of relief. The heroes of Askr would be safe another day.