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M! Robin x Tharja Commission (aka Tharja goes apeshit when her Robin is kidnapped...!!!)

You didn’t know what went wrong. You didn’t know how it got to this point. The Valmese were being routed. The brutality of the fight was coming to an end.

What you weren’t expecting was the explosion set off. That’s when everything started to fall apart.

“Robin!!” Chrom shouted for you, Falchion pointed behind him, “They’re flanking the backline!!”

You froze, fighting the panic that just leapt into your throat. Tharja was commanding the mage’s battalion. She was a prime target.

“Hold the frontlines!!” Your voice was a deep bellow, unfamiliar to the Exalt’s ears. You hailed for Cherche, Minerva swooping down and welcoming you onto her back.

“Where are we needed?”

“They’re targeting the mages in our backline!”

The beast swerved southward, pouring on speed. You readied an Arcthunder to strike down those who put a target on your wife.

It didn’t take long to deduce that Tharja was nowhere to be found. Jaw clenched tightly, you pursued a more violent attack, dispersing the enemy soldiers like frightened guinea pigs.

“Ricken!!” You spotted the young mage immediately, who looked breathless and shaken.

“Robin, I- it’s Tharja!” Dread filled your heart when you saw the fear in his eyes.

“Where is she?”

“They took her- when they ambushed us, t-they grabbed her while she was incapacitated!” Ricken pointed west, deeper into the woods. You broke into a sprint, brandishing the Levin Sword crackling in your hands.

They took her. They wanted a prisoner of war, and they chose the worst possible target. Tharja wouldn’t go down without a rabid fight. There would be no survivors…even if it meant she went down, too. That’s what frightened you; Tharja sacrificing herself to evade capture.

Your swirling anxieties were suddenly silenced when you spotted movement in the trees ahead. A hundred yards away, her black hair shifted in the leaves.

She was being dragged away. Four, no- six Valmese.

You couldn’t tell what classes they were, but at this point, you weren’t particularly worried about that. She wasn’t panicking, but she was fighting against their pull. It wasn’t until one of them struck her back with the hilt of his ax that you snapped.

“STOP!!”

The band froze in their tracks, turning to find you charging towards them full force. Your Levin Sword erupted with static lightning, lashing out and striking the man who dared attack your wife first.

“No, Robin-!” Tharja’s voice was tight, her face suddenly pale when she saw you. The Valmese weren’t concerned by your appearance.

“Unhand her, now!!” You growled, “I will not ask again.”

“Well, what do you know? She wasn’t lying.” General Farber emerged from the mass of soldiers. What was he doing here? Why wasn’t he on the front-

“Get out of here!!” Tharja snarled at you, panic bright in her eyes. “I’m not the one they-”

The ax struck her back again.

You roared, red filling your vision. Your blade raced towards the man’s throat, blood on your tongue.

Farber’s sword came to Tharja’s throat, stopping your attack before it could connect.

“Not so fast-” He sneered down his nose at you, “You are in no position to be so rash. One wrong move and she dies, Tactician.”

“What do you want?” Your hands shook with rage, your anger the only thing suppressing the panic running cold in your veins.

Farber shifted his sword closer, touching her skin. “I want you.”

“What??”

“An equal exchange- you surrender to the Valmese, and we let her go.”

Your gazes locked, silently trying to communicate with one another on what the hells you were supposed to do. Tharja wouldn’t let you make the exchange- you were far more valuable to her than anything else; someone she would gladly give her life up for.

That, and you were the Chief Tactician; she was just a mage. A soldier. She wasn’t someone worth trading for.

“Swear…on your honor…that you’ll let her free, without harm.”

“No!!”

She was more than that to you. The one person you would sacrifice your life for without hesitation. And Farber knew that.

“I swear on the name of our great Emperor Walhart. She will be unharmed.”

You nodded, heart in your throat as you dropped the sword to the ground.

“...All right. I surrender.”

“A wise choice.” He motioned the soldiers forward, who twisted your arms behind your back, forcing you to your knees. You groaned in pain, feeling them rip away your weapons. Tharja struggled against their hold, snarling curses at them for daring to even touch you.

“Let the wench go, soldier; if she tries to give chase, cut her down.”

“No-” The panic rose, eyes wide at his words, “No, you swore you wouldn’t- hrrkh!!”

“Robin!!” Your name ripped from her tongue in a horrified shriek, watching the bolts of Arcthunder rip through her husband.

Copper filled your mouth, burning flesh assaulted your nose as your vision faded in and out. The last thing that crossed your sight was Tharja, screaming at you, before your head struck the ground.

-------------------------

Tharja was found shortly after your disappearance; but she had been knocked unconscious before she could even think to retaliate. The man was wise enough to not simply release her.

When she came to, there were three healers and an Exalt standing over her, panicked she was harmed beyond repair.

Libra was blasted from her vision with a screeching Elwind. Her dazed fury had her disoriented, and she was taking it out on the Shepherds. It took Chrom and Vaike restraining her so that the healers could get close enough to inspect her wounds. After several minutes, they were able to bring her down enough to be coherent.

“Farber-” She hissed, his name bitter on her tongue, “Farber flanked us from behind. He singled out the mage battalion and took me away in that explosion. I hadn’t even realized what was happening until it was too late!”

The anger radiating off of her was overwhelming. Chrom’s hands were balled into fists at his sides, not sure what to think.

“Why would their general lead that surprise attack? He should’ve been on the front lines- I didn’t even see him make the shift!”

“It doesn’t matter how he did it, what matters is that he used me to take Robin!”

She barked at him, fury and fear lacing her every word. “And that fool would throw himself in front of Naga to protect me. He doesn’t think when it comes to us. It’s pathetic- it’s sickening!!”

“Tharja, it’s going to be all right. We’ll regroup at camp and can put together a plan to bring him home. I’m sure you have some sort of method to track his whereabouts, yes?”

“Yes…yes, of course.” She nodded, closing her hand over the wedding ring worn around her neck. “I placed a hex on his ring so that I might know where he is and what he’s doing at any given moment.”

“Right. That’s not concerning at all.”

“Why would it be? He has the same hex on my ring.” She grinned, “It’s why we have absolute trust in one another.”

“...So…is it able to track exact coordinates?”

“It won’t be exact, but I can get us as close as possible to locking in on his location.” She replied, letting Lissa help her stand and hold her up.

The Shepherds returned to camp, quick to get her treated so she could get to work. Waiting with baited breath, Tharja went into the mage’s tent, preparing her incantations.

Miriel and Ricken flanked Tharja as she worked, drawing all of her strength up in hopes of grabbing onto Robin’s location.

It was her one complaint with the spell; the farther her husband was, the longer it took to pinpoint his whereabouts. The battle ended just before sunset. It was the gray of morning when her spell had results. Tharja burst into the council tent at dawn, startling those inside.

“I found him.” She panted, clutching her wedding band with bleeding fingers. “We can save him.”

“Ready the army,” Chrom ordered, “Let’s not waste another second!”

Tharja was right at the front of the helm, a completely abnormal position for her to take. She did better skulking in the shadows, hanging in the backlines where she wouldn’t be so easily detected.

Her husband was ripped away, and she found out where he was being held. She would rescue him...and the last thing those bastards would feel? The pure fear that she put in them.

“I won’t lie…I’m really glad she’s on our side.” Stahl mumbled to Sully as the troupe rode out into the field, racing towards the fortress you were being held in.

Sully scoffed, “No kiddin’. Imagine if we’d kidnapped Robin and not Valm- I’ll be you she’d have the whole army razed in a second. They onlyRemind me never to get on her bad side.”

Tharja could sense the discomfort and unease around her, but she needed to focus solely on rescuing her husband. A man who, within the next three to four hours, would without a doubt be back in her arms. She would bring you home.

-------------------------

Waking up in a strange, dark cell was already unpleasant and disorienting. Waking up covered in burn marks and tattered robes turned the confusion into panic. Then you remembered what had happened before; when the Valmese captured you.

“About time you woke up.” Farber’s voice broke through the fog in your mind, standing in front of your cell with a far too pleased expression on his face. “Worried we might’ve gotten a little too excited with that spell.”

“You…w-why…” Your voice was stuck in your throat, hoarse and gravelly considering its last usage was a mangled cry of pain.

The general shrugged, “You can’t blame us. Your backline was sorely undermanned, and once the assassins cleared a path, netting your wife was easy. Her stamina is quite poor, you know. It’s surprising you let her fight independently, at all.”

You didn’t grace his obvious dig with an answer, but the blood boiling in your veins suggested otherwise. Of course they had to use some cowardly trick to get what they wanted.

“Once we dispatched her battalion and singled her out, it was more than easy to disarm her and beat her into submission. And once we told her she was bait to lure you out, well…her feeble attempts to fight back were simply adorable. That woman really loves you, to the point it’s nearly pathetic.”

“Leave her out of this. You got me.”

“With her help, of course. And since she’ll undoubtedly throw herself at us to try and rescue you, I’m sure you’ll be looking forward to the moment where we subdue her once more, and kill her right in front of you.”

“...!”

“Of course, not before we give her a reason to yearn for death.”

You didn’t realize you attempted to lunge at him before the chains yanked you back, metal digging into your wrists. Observing guards laughed as Farber mocked you, gleeful at the sight of Ylisse’s fallen tactician.

“Look at you! To think Lord Walhart wanted you defeated so urgently! What a pathetic little help you are. But enjoy these last moments, boy- there aren’t many left.”

Farber turned on his heel to take his leave, whispering something to the guards stationed at your cell.

The rage that roiled inside your chest wasn’t able to be sated…not only because you were pinned in place, but because you were so tired.

You could barely string two thoughts together, let alon keep your eyes open. The air was cold…growing colder. It pierced through your bones, turning your veins to ice. That wasn’t a normal reaction to cold.

Time was running out.

-------------------------

Tharja had a feeling that you were more than in trouble the closer they came to the battle point. But that ominous foreboding in her chest deepened when Cordelia shouted overhead that they had a visual on the fort.

Something was very, very wrong.

“Maribelle-” Tharja hissed the noble’s name, her glare as sharp as it was scared. “You need to stay with me.”

“I’m afraid Lord Chrom’s strategy requires I remain in the-”

“You need to stay with me.” She repeated, more urgently. “Robin will need help, immediately. I know it.”

Maribelle eyed her warily, “Well, of course he will, dear. He’s been injured and kidnapped.”

“That’s not it,” Tharja shook her head, fingers digging into her chest. “It’s worse than that. He’s fading.”

The fear was overtaking other emotions in her expression. Maribelle could see it clear as day; their unreadable mage was shaken.

“Oh…very well.” She helped Tharja onto her mare’s back. “Hold tight, and do not speak unless you give explicit directions to Robin’s whereabouts. We must remain alert.”

That’s when the battle began.

The archers drew first blood, Virion launching a volley of arrows into the fort’s guards at the front gates. Valm tried and failed to bar the gates, but by that point, the Shepherds were throwing barbarians into the heavy wood and breaking it down with axes and flaming spells.

At that moment, Chrom commanded them to break apart into their planned formations, to secure the fortress and find their tactician.

“In fifty paces, bare right,” Tharja commanded, following the spell and the ache in her heart. You were close. So, so close.

The pair separated from the rest, the sound of clashing weapons fading as they approached a metal grate. Tharja dropped from the horse’s back, grasping Maribelle’s arm and forcing the healer to come with her.

“We cannot bring the beast. We will proceed on foot.”

“Tharja, this is not safe. It’s just the two of us, and-”

“There is no time to bring others!” She snapped, melting the grate beneath Bolganone-tipped fingers. A prison’s entrance was embedded in the ground; a long ladder descending into a narrow tunnel, dark and foreboding.

That’s where they kept her husband. The fury was finally starting to overwhelm her anxiety, again. She descended swiftly, dropping to the ground with a heavy thud.

The bars were rusted over, and several of the cells were empty. Silently they moved, finding a pair of guards in front of a cell centered in the room. She had Nosferatu gathered in her hands before they even realized she was charging them.

“Do you like darkness…?”

Her words were followed immediately by anguish, the spell eviscerating them in an instant.

“Robin is here.” She darted to the door, flinging the guards away with an agitated blast of Elwind, before working to melt the lock away.

She was correct, after all; her Robin was there in the back of cell, leaned against the wall and slumped to the floor. Tharja slammed the door open, immediately beside her husband. Her hands fell to the chains, heart darkening at the sight of her beloved.

“What have they done to you?” She whispered, fingers shaking as she fought to free him from the chains. “What have those bastards done to you…?”

Maribelle’s hand fell on Tharja’s shoulder, drawing her Caduceus. “It’s mostly magic damage, but he’s lost a lot of-.”

“He’s breathing.” She hissed, “Hurry and fix him!”

Maribelle directed her to lower you to the floor, cradling your head in her lap. She flung the rusted chains away and had you settled against her swiftly. They cut away your coat and armor, revealing the deep burns and bloodied wounds that had covered your chest and torso.

She had never felt such anguish before. Her hands wove into your hair, shifting anxiously to your face and neck, searching for a steady pulse, for some semblance of warmth.

“Maribelle, is he…?”

“He’s here. Barely.” She spoke through gritted teeth, “I will need help. Can you send for-”

She spoke a feverish spell, a flitting messenger charm whisked into the air and rocketed from the prison in search of help.

Tharja tore fabric from the discarded coat, pressing them to the deepest cuts. The quivering in her hands made it hard to hold the fabric in place, and harder still to keep her focus.

“Robin…” She called to you, a crack in her voice. “Wake up. Don’t you dare leave me like this. …Please.” She begged, feeling her heart crumble. Maribelle was still working. It wasn’t done yet.

There was still a chance he-

“Hagh!”

Tharja jumped, startled by her husband suddenly coughing up blood and spattering her chest. Maribelle’s staff raised, wiping at her brow with a heavy breath.

“He’s coming to.”

“He’s-” Tharja leaned down, her nose nearly touching yours, watching with wide eyes when you spluttered for breath. “Robin? Robin…Robin, I’m here.”

You did not reply, breaths stuttering and shallow. She grasped your face in her hands, overwhelmed. She didn’t care that tears fell, leaving streaks on your face.

“Robin…answer me, fool.” She growled. As though she commanded it, your eyes cracked open. Your vision was blurry, but you recognized that dark glare anywhere.

“...Tharja…?”

The rasp was what forced a sob from her lips. Tharja wrapped her arms around your chest, doubling over and holding you as best she possibly could.

She made it in time.

Maribelle stepped back, if only long enough to give the two of you some time alone, and to usher in the rest of the clerics who had received her frantic request for help.

The Shepherds’ battle still rumbled over their heads, but the fort would be routed within the day.

Tharja remained at your side, finding your hand and squeezing it tightly when you started to come around and waited to be healed enough to walk.

Which, of course, when you were reunited with the entirety of the Shepherds, meant you’d receive a severe dressing down from a worried Exalt, all of your friends, and naturally, your wife that was furious beyond reason that you would dare sacrifice yourself to protect her.

But, you would explain with a fond smile and a gentle kiss, she was the only one that mattered to you, above all else.

And you would gladly lay down your life a thousand times if it meant she did not see any further harm.

Tharja would confine you to your shared tent for at least a week following the ordeal, out of an abundance of caution for your recovery, and also because…well, hearing such a declaration meant she needed to keep you all to herself for a while yet.

And you certainly wouldn’t complain about having so much sweet time with your dearest one.

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