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thissilverfish · 5 months ago

Text

reverie

mild angst, drama ; ~10k

please see this post for possible content warnings

so do not wake me, hush

keep your voice down

Floating into consciousness, his eyelids flutter open to reveal a fair blue sky, sparse clouds scattered across it.

The breeze gently greets his skin. All these pleasant sensations make his body feel light, as though he's floating. Languidly, he takes his time to ease himself out of sleep inertia. He had dozed off under the shade of a tree when he'd decided to take a momentary rest.

Judging from the warmth of his clothes, he hasn't been sleeping for long. In about an hour, the sun will begin to set. He gathers his belongings he'd taken prior to his brief excursion in the fields and treads in the direction of the nearest village.

They only truly realized how beautiful the fields were during the war. Even now he feels as though he might take them for granted.

He doesn't think he could, however.

Continuing to serve in the army after the war entails much tamer work, though crimes remain rampant. On occasion there'd be bandits or rebels looking to escalate tension, but in most cases, incidents within Ylisse are aptly dealt with, not one instance of violence needed. Deep down, he must admit he sometimes misses the thrill of the battlefield, even though a scenery as peaceful as this is what they'd toiled years to earn.

The Ylissean army constantly and efficiently adapts to the changing Halidom. Several divisions have been drafted and formed out of necessity. There have been new faces and changing ranks, and as a result there are more people among whom to delegate work. Everything's been busier than ever before.

Frederick dismissed him early today. He was told that he had offered enough of his time then to warrant earlier dismissals. Due to preparations for several ceremonies he had been returning straight home rather late, exhausted albeit fulfilled. They have come to pass.

Ylisse has become a safe enough home for night markets to open right around dusk. There is something magical about the warm yellow glow of lanterns lining the streets on what would have been silent nights. As the air gets cooler, the aroma of baked potatoes and meat skewers provides a brief warmth as he walks back home.

The ground crunches under his boots, the dust coming under the light of the setting sun. As muted pink dips into shades of night, he steadily approaches a humble house he's always been familiar with. A comforting, golden light emanates from within.

Welcoming himself inside, she comes to greet him with a familiar, elegant voice. Instinctively his arms wrap around her. Any day could be long and exhausting and he would feel reinvigorated with her presence. Her tender amber eyes look up at him and they are filled with love.

"Welcome home," Robin holds his hand briefly and they walk into the dining room. "You're back a little earlier today."

His free hand rises to the back of his neck, scratching it sheepishly. "Frederick let me leave earlier today. I went to the field to relax, but fell asleep."

A musical laugh resounds in the room. "That's just like you."

"It's the same one you woke up in. The one we found you in." Just like her, he'd had to check for stray leaves and twigs tangled in his hair. Unlike hers, he doesn't think that any leaf in his hair would have made that much of a difference.

A healthy red creeps on her face at the memory. "That was so long ago!"

Yes, Robin is now his wife. They've been living comfortably in hard-earned silence following the war against Plegia. She enjoys the simplicities that come with being a commoner, relatively well-adjusted, like she's always known this kind of life.

The Shepherds stay restless after the war. They'd gone different ways in life — some settled down, some became wanderers, some found a little comfort in toiling day after day. For most of them, they would have withered in tranquility, and he found himself agreeing with it. In Stahl's case, he decided to retain his position in the army.

There is little need for Robin to assign and train the members of an already growing army, much less devise plans. But it has become second nature for her to keep her mind sharp. Whenever the need arises, she's asked to manage provisions and deployments. It's not the same kind of work she used to do – that's more of a hobby these days than anything.

Much is left unknown in the fog that is her memory, her past. But as their tumultuous days as Shepherds passed, Stahl realized that he can love her no matter what is revealed of her.

To him, more than that, he simply appreciates being — being with her, being here. They're together, in their humble home along the outskirts of Ylisstol. The comfort of the castle is something he misses every now and then. Their way of living is simple even when there are new things to try. When they greet each other in the morning and feel the warmth of their legs entangled after sundown, he thinks that love can be such a simple emotion, after all.

And he feels so alive, the way the warmth of another person is within his reach.

Tonight is spent like they usually do. He looks at her and she smiles back. Breathing in unison.

How beautiful. It's never anything too complex.

"We should go to that field together, one of these days," Robin runs her fingers along his scalp. The gesture lulls him as effectively as a bedtime song, but the silence that follows her suggestion prompts him to respond.

"And lie down?" After a day's work in the army, causing the afternoon breeze to put them to sleep?

A small smile forms on her lips, "...and lie down." Robin's eyes begin to search his face, and he feels her gaze on him even as sleep is about to take him. "...Stahl?"

"Yes?"

"Do you remember when we couldn't sleep during an expedition, so we just lay down and looked at the night sky?"

And perhaps that is the extent of her memories. There have been instances she would get headaches trying to remember.

Robin had begun to accept her inability to remember and move forward. Life with the Shepherds has been all she's known, all she's lived for. Her life began when she woke up on that field. What little she experiences becomes etched in her memory, becoming precious to her.

"...I remember."

"The stars were so beautiful."

Robin is right. The stars have always been beautiful to gaze at. He does remember the two of them spending the night out in the field, just staring at the sky. She'd joined him when she was out for a walk to clear her mind. The field was a considerable distance from light, so the stars were bright and clear, dotting the sky with constellations.

But to tell the truth, he doesn't remember how exactly the stars looked that night. He can only picture a brief moment.

All he hears when he closes his eyes is a heartbeat. It tells him that he's alive.

Celebrations are frequent in the bustling villages of Ylisse. After the war, there have been more festivals for abundant harvests, which have not occurred ever since the former Exalt, Chrom's father, assumed the throne and conscripted commoners into the army, leading the nation into famine and tensions with its neighbor. In time, there were more festivities – honoring their saints and their heroes of war.

The pair are lucky to be living near enough the capital where travel does not pose an issue, but far enough for the festivities to be inaudible from their home should they wish to return. There are days they'd rather spend staying home and living quietly.

This time, they decide to visit for one evening. He's been visiting with Robin every once in a while, and this time they walk leisurely, hand in hand.

They can feel the drums thumping inside their chests and the music is louder than last year. There are banners and colorful lanterns hanging above them, further brightening the night. Friends, couples, and families alike visit festivals together and celebrate, praying for more days as peaceful as this one to come.

They're laughing as they check out the festivities. There are groups gathered at tables set up outside restaurants, the dizzying smell of alcohol beginning to fill the air. Parents take their children to try small treats and play games, presumably the first time for several who were born after the war.

Special occasions don't need to happen in order to fill his heart, but he appreciates the view they bring, like scenes out of a storybook.

Fleeting, pleasant emotions, like daydreams, pass through him.

The warmth of her hands. The way she gazes at him so lovingly. It hasn't changed and he hopes it never does.

But time changes people.

Then Stahl sees. He realizes that his wife has grown to be a beautiful woman, much different from when they met when they were just entering adulthood, when remnants of their youth were more blatant. Love has taken a different form; it's no longer as colorful and bright as before when they had first wished to be together, and he can accept that.

But he also feels a subtle gnawing at his chest.

They're not getting any younger.

Robin doesn't miss the way his eyes display a hint of sadness. "What's wrong?"

"It's been so long since we first met. You've only become more beautiful."

"Well, you've become a fine man. And you're still the same man I learned to love." Her blush on her face matches how warm the night is. He's more than happy she returned his compliment, but he's none the wiser to think she'll be distracted by his words. "So tell me, what's wrong?"

"I just want to grow older with you. I want us to stay like this," he wishes candidly, but it's not enough to stop fear from seeping into him. And to that, Robin squeezes his hand, her fingers intertwined with his.

"We've been together for years now. And we'll stay that way until the end."

Until the end.

The unmistakable bubbling of worry fills his chest. As their days together pass, he considers asking her if she wants a family, but that question never comes. There's no knowing what will happen next considering her predicament, and this she knows too.

Robin has become weaker as of late. On some days, she's a little better, but he notices that she's not as vigorous as she was just a few months prior. She needs to sleep longer and gets tired faster. They'd gone to their healers and they're able to give only temporary remedies.

It's not like her to become ill. It's as though she'd become afflicted without a cause.

And they had tried to search for it. Stahl had asked several healers if his wife had become cursed unbeknownst to them. She was not. The best explanation they could come up with was her constitution was weakening with her age, and though it's plausible, he thinks the loss of her vigor is more abrupt than how it would happen if she were just getting older.

What a cruel reminder. It hasn't even been a decade since they were young adults. Why is she afflicted with an unknown illness so soon, something even Ylisse's best healers don't know about?

The life he has right now is so precious precisely because it's not meant to last forever. But if he could make a wish to be able to live it as long as he can, then he would.

One day, he'll have to let go of her, or maybe he'll leave first. Worrying about the future will drive him mad. Most importantly, while he can, he just wants to be with her.

III

The pace of his blood pumping through his heart jolts him awake, the beating ringing in his ears. A familiar voice is raised in an alarmed, distrusting tone within their house. He's sure that just before this, he heard the door nearly slamming open. He's unsure whether that was from his dream or if someone had broken in.

"Hey, Robin! Tell me."

He recognizes that voice. It's Sully, who decided to visit unannounced. Spontaneous visits from their comrades are commonplace, but they have all been amicable. Her previous visit was fairly recent and she had been casual — what could possibly be causing her to barge into the house demanding answers from his wife?

When Stahl rushes to the living room, he realizes that the situation is more concerning than he initially thought.

Sully is still in her armor and it is early in the day.

She rushed to this house and she isn't the type to abandon post for nothing. The situation must be bad enough for her to risk a sanction from Frederick.

The rays passing through the window cause the handle of her lance to glint. For a moment he imagines her pointing it at Robin, and he hurries towards them.

Her tone when she speaks is dark, her eyes narrowed as she asks Robin, "What are you planning on doing with us this time?"

The question itself is vague to them. The Shepherds have been scattered far and wide after the war. If Robin truly wanted for them to gather, it would take months to years just for it to happen. "Plan...? I'm afraid I don't follow."

"How long are you going to keep this up? Are you trying to trick us? Play us like fools?"

"What am I tricking you into thinking?"

"You're making us think we worked so hard to make Ylisse this peaceful. And you're going to destroy everything afterwards."

At this statement, confusion becomes etched on Robin's face. "But this is all I worked for. It's all I lived for. It won't make sense for me to just ruin it."

"For all I know, you could just be pretending to be on our side. You've done something like that before. Cut the act."

"I haven't. I don't remember anything like that!"

"Spit it out! You already killed everyone and now you're spitting on our fucking graves. Just let us stay dead!"

"Sully," Stahl asks, wrapping an arm around Robin's shoulders to stop them from shaking. She knows how to handle situations like this, having trained to modulate her voice to sound calm. But her brows are furrowed, drawn towards the center in a mix of confusion and concern. "Can you explain to us what's going on?"

"We are being deceived! There's a chance we are – by this woman."

He holds his wife tighter, more protectively. How can such a serious accusation towards her be made all of a sudden? The years they've been spending after the war have been fine. They spend their days together, so he's sure she's not scheming something behind everyone's backs.

On Sully's face is an expression as though she expected him to take Robin's side. That they might misunderstand her intentions. But when something goes wrong, she is the first one to act. It won't ever be like Sully to sit around and do nothing.

"Do you remember fighting after the war against Plegia?"

The question only brings more confusion to the exchange. "A second war... We fought a second war?"

"Against a different nation. Do you really not remember anything?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. We only received merits for the war against Plegia, right?"

To Stahl's knowledge, they've participated in dozens of battles — but only in one war. The opposing faction was indeed Plegia. Their medals of honor are proudly displayed on the wall. If they'd fought against any other faction, they should have been properly awarded.

But Sully isn't the type of person to just visit someone's house and spout insane drivel, and this is what alarms them. She wouldn't do something so accusatory towards anyone, especially Robin.

"That's because we couldn't receive them! We didn't win! There was no one who could award them shortly after because she—"

Before his friend raises her voice further, he interjects, stepping forward so he's in the middle. He doesn't miss his wife clutching at her chest with one hand. "Sully, stop it! She already said she doesn't know anything. We'll discuss this again, but you need to take your time and think about what to say, okay?"

"Fine. If I'm wrong about this whole ordeal, then I'm sorry." The redhead's hands remain clenched at her sides and she looks away in guilt at her outburst.

And when she sees that the pair are still unable to respond, she continues.

"But if I find out you're up to no good again, especially if you hurt him..." In this moment, Sully can only be referring to Stahl, who is standing next to Robin. Her lance glints. "I won't ever forgive you."

Sully leans back on the railing along an esplanade, one stretching out so vast that civilians could freely walk and view the expanse of Ylisse from above. The sky is fair as ever. It is always stuffy in their suits of armor, but they can't imagine going around without them on. The metallic scent clinging to them has become second nature.

The break allows them to take their helmets off, to breathe in fresh air, much needed after the altercation at Stahl's house several days prior. The atmosphere between the two has been heavy ever since. Despite being in this situation so often, it's not something he will ever get used to.

"I'm sorry about what happened at your house."

He doesn't know what to forgive her for, if he is even in a position to forgive. As serious as things may have been for her, she still yelled at Robin. Raised her voice and threw accusations. His wife is already falling ill.

"I know it's difficult to hear, but listen. I want to believe Robin. Trust me, I really do." Sully tucks her helmet under her arm and lets out a sigh. "But my gut tells me she's hiding something. I didn't want to do it, but I wanted answers. And until I get them, I can't trust her."

Stahl's heart sinks. It's one thing for a heated exchange to happen between two Shepherds, but to say that the one person he spends almost every day with could be plotting something? If it were anyone else, he would have told them to stop.

Is it wrong for him to begin feeling a minuscule seed of doubt where his heart should be?

"I can't continue living blindly when there are things I know that make no sense. It's not just the second war."

Then Sully continues to explain. After the war, most of the Shepherds have been in frequent correspondence. It would make sense for visits to become sporadic, but there are a few who'd stopped coming altogether. For their comrades further away, there are no letters from them.

She's right. Donny hasn't visited in years. They would at least hear from him, but it's as if everyone had forgotten about them altogether. The postman who used to drop invitations to Olivia's performances stopped visiting. Where have they gone?

"And while a few of us have gone missing, there's someone who shouldn't be here. Lady Emmeryn is doing well, isn't she?"

"She is."

But to Sully, her presence alone denotes something is wrong. There is a pause in the air before she shatters the silence. Her fingers resting on top of her crossed arms curl so tightly he's sure they'll leave welts. And Sully clenches her jaw – out of fury, out of despair.

"...Stahl, Lady Emmeryn died."

He can feel the blood leaving his head. That's impossible, but Sully isn't joking. She's not the type who'd jest in morbidity. They were able to protect Lady Emmeryn after her life was threatened. Chrom took on the position of Exalt-Regent after the attempt failed, but she was able to reinstate her position shortly after.

"That's impossible. We managed to save her during that attempt on her life inside the Palace." He stops when Sully abruptly inhales.

"It didn't happen in the Palace." Sully's voice begins to waver. Tears come to her eyes as though she'd truly seen Lady Emmeryn dead, as though she'd mourned it in the past. He feels that guilt clench his chest all the same, though he doesn't understand why. "She chose to sacrifice herself. She fell off a cliff. We saw her die. No one could have survived that."

"A cliff?"

"We did save her from that assassination attempt. But shortly after, Plegia took her hostage with an impossible ransom. A fight broke out. Not wanting to see any further bloodshed, she... she threw herself down a cliff."

"So our comrades have disappeared... and Lady Emmeryn is alive."

"When I last saw her, I started to feel like I'm supposed to be dead, too."

For a moment, he considers that Sully could have just had several nightmares. Her mind might be failing to acclimate to such peaceful times she's spiraling into madness. Maybe it's a hex and she's being plagued with visions of the people around her dying. But she already should have known what to do if she had either of those afflictions. So Stahl understands and listens to her.

Like she's reading his mind, she explains herself. "I could just be having false memories. I'd gone to our comrades and they told me I wasn't mad or hexed. But if I'm only remembering wrong, why do I see these visions like they're my own, like I was the one who lived them myself?"

At this, Stahl's curiosity is piqued. "From what you remember, we fought against another nation?"

"We did."

If the medals of honor indicate they won the war against Plegia alone, why is he finding himself agreeing with Sully's explanation? There's another nation they fought. And he remembers battling against... something else.

There is a violent shock that passes through his body, a buzz that shoots through his head and spreads through his nerves. It feels hopeless, like things are about to come to an end. A bitter, heavy sensation spreads in his mouth. Numbness fills his fingers and even the air feels charged.

The surge goes through him a second time. An unpleasant tingling lingers on his palms. For a brief moment, he feels like he's about to collapse. His vision darkens.

When did this happen?

"Sully, how did you die?" She winces at the question, but recalls her own death nonetheless.

"I fell in battle. Put up a good fight, too. At least that's how I went out, huh?" She crosses her arms and looks away, grinning bitterly. Her expression hardens.

"To whom?"

At that, the redhead pauses and looks at him for a few moments. Sully inhales deeply and closes her eyes.

"...Grima."

Grima.

The mention of that name sends a wave of nausea over his head. It rings like an ill omen and it makes him want to hurl. This is supposed to be his first time hearing the name in a while, he'd heard of the dragon slain millennia prior, so he doesn't understand how he knows who Sully is talking about.

"Don't you remember? Robin's body was used as Grima's vessel."

And then he feels it — a thin veil called amnesia being ripped apart at the seams. Why did he forget? How did he ever forget?

The sky above Ylisse inside his mind is a miserable crimson, black stars dotting it. The air is dark and heavy. And then there is a roar from the belly of the earth, accompanied by a cacophony of horns and low trumpets.

...Are these memories his?

His vision is blurred and spotty, but he sees her form. Her eyes are as red as the sky, and the shine in them is eerily absent.

He would never have thought Robin was capable of making such an expression — one capable of destroying everything without remorse. That she was born to be hated by the world, and she responded in kind. But looking closer, he swears she also looks like she is at her wits' end. He doesn't know what to believe.

"I do. I remember."

"I wish that I could see someone else's face whenever I hear that name instead of Robin's."

The taste of betrayal is bitter in his mouth, but it doesn't linger for long. He can acknowledge that the more absurd something is, the more likely it's real.

But when his wife's face comes to mind, he doesn't understand how she could be the vessel of a being so malignant, if his current life with her is worth sacrificing for a mere possibility.

They were married. They have been for several years. And she had been nothing but loving and amicable to him. It's difficult to see her as anyone other than Robin, a mere human whose exploits have been heard of following the war.

It's true that she can be conniving when she wishes to be. The most glaring inconsistency that makes this accusation questionable, however, is that she had never recovered her memories.

Could she have been lying all along?

He doesn't believe Robin can do such a thing – that is, betray them. But otherworldly beings roam about their world, and humans may be unable to stop them. Especially a vessel such as her.

"Robin, she... she only knows the Shepherds. It's her only life. It's all she remembers."

"I know," Sully looks up to meet his eyes, her crossed arms tightening. "But Stahl, we've been Shepherds all our lives, too. Far longer than she has. We're in this strange world. Everything is too perfect, and some of us have regained our memories of dying. If Grima wants to bring ruin to Ylisse again, I'll do what it takes to protect it. Until my last breath. Even if it means..."

She doesn't dare say it out loud.

He winces at the thought of ever leaving Robin, the Robin he knows, who simply lives with him as a commoner every day, whose love for him is evident in her eyes. He can't bear the notion of her possibly getting killed by their comrade or dying at his hands. And yet there is some truth in Sully's statement — he does remember Grima possessing her, his death to her a gruesome way to end.

"The person next to you might not be Robin. It could be that damned demon using her face to lure us all. Grima had completely taken over her body in the very last of the memories I had recovered. If Robin is in there somehow, I don't know if we can get her back without putting everyone else at risk. That's why I can't trust her."

This situation alone might drive a wedge in their friendship. Stahl understands where Sully is coming from, and that is in truth what hurts the most. She'll do what she can just to protect the Shepherds. The faction he'd been welcomed into, giving him purpose in the days when Ylisse was in turmoil.

But to Stahl, he could never think of Robin as someone who would scheme something so vile behind everyone's backs. She'd been completely honest with him all these years as they've been toiling their years away as commoners, away from the conflict of wars and cults.

Is the answer to the question as simple as 'Grima is tricking us once again?' Perhaps it's the days they had spent together in this world after the war, but he finds it difficult to see her as anything other than human.

He could be wrong. Maybe it's just his wishful thinking. No one would ever want the life they spent with someone else to be a farce.

"Then, if she is Grima, what is she planning?"

"Who knows? Grima's power might have grown strong enough for her to recreate the world – no one else has that kind of power. If she did, why one where we're alive and Ylisse, of all nations, is perfect? Why were our memories erased and overwritten?"

But then... if this is designed to be a perfect world, why is Robin herself ailing? They had only begun flourishing after generations of illness and famine. Crime and sin remain rampant in a supposed heaven.

He is unable to accept that, and now he has memories that look like they're his, that he believes did happen. These memories are so detached from the world they're in, so absurd, it just seems as though they're watching a play from afar. He can't help but think that they might just be going mad.

Maybe they have already been mad for a long time.

The air feels silent, and eerily so. The absence of wind gently swaying Ylisse's fields is an ill omen.

"Ylisse is a little too peaceful for my liking."

"There are intricacies about this world that are fallacious in their nature."

"...I tire of this blasphemous, meaningless façade."

"You need to be the most wary out of us all."

Stahl tucks the letters neatly in his bag. Each one he had received since has had cryptic messages woven into them, and he can only conclude that they had regained their own memories. He's told they'll try to look into it, or rather they have, but haven't found any leads except for their own memories.

How much hope is there for an answer if this world was recreated and no traces of the past remain?

The resurfacing of their memories divides the Shepherds – some are saying not to trust her, that she could be possessed by Grima, but there are those who believe that Robin remains innocent, that she has nothing to do with Grima's machinations and may be a victim herself.

Even after Sully's warning not to trust her, he finds that his life with Robin remains unchanging, that he loves her all the same in spite of what he's hearing. But he feels all kinds of complex emotions. She runs his fingers through his hair and it leaves him wondering whether or not the person he's been living with is truly just Robin.

Sometimes, he finds himself doubting. He loathes this feeling because his faith in her should have been unshakable. But the presence of a higher being is not something she can control, and a possibility he cannot exclude.

He could be placing himself in a dangerous position if the person beside him is the one Sully is suspecting her to be. What can he do if the embodiment of evil itself resides within her, and if this all is just some farce?

At the same time, the person he's loved all these years is ailing without any sign of feeling better. If he leaves her, then who will stay by her side? Even if he does leave, they've done so much together that he couldn't possibly imagine a life without her.

If Grima is once again pulling the strings, will she even allow him to leave? Will he be given the choice to do so? If he chooses to stay, is he defending the fallen god who caused a miserable fate to befall Ylisse and his comrades?

But if their assumptions about this are wrong, then they could very well be abandoning Robin, who had known her life as a mere human being. Robin, their friend... his companion.

Being in this position alone puts him in pain.

They've been together for so long that she can no longer miss his tells. She makes him think he was never that good at hiding them. He'd been deep in thought, staring blankly into space, and she notices, even though he tries his best to make it seem as though nothing is wrong.

"Stahl, I'm still worried. I've been thinking about what Sully said the last time she was here." Her fingers through his hair are supposed to make him relax, but he feels a slight tingling this time. It's unpleasant, and the guilt he feels for reacting that way intensifies. He feels her hesitate and nearly draw her hands back. "What if I really did something wrong, and I'm unaware of it?"

In his ears, his heartbeat pounds. He had promised that he would tell her everything, but it's too cruel a possibility to disclose to her. Stahl chooses not to tell her everything. He decides he'd rather stay with this guilt than part with it and hurt her.

"We talked about it, and there are things that don't exactly make sense. I'm not sure about everything myself. But until we find out what's going on, you haven't done anything wrong."

The way her fingers twitch at his response, her nervous countenance – he knows he can only do so much to dissuade her from finding the truth. She's likely already guessing that the accusations are grave, nearly inane that they're hard to believe.

If she finds out about everything afterwards, then he hopes she can forgive him. But he can't let her worry – she is already ill. He doesn't tell her that their comrades are strangely missing. More than that, he finds it difficult to tell her that Lady Emmeryn is supposed to be dead.

The scar it left is etched into her heart. Learning about the Exalt's death under her lead would devastate his wife, reopening a wound deeper than he could imagine. After all, she was the one who was involved in leading her rescue. She was the one who had to bear the weight of their failure, who still had to keep the army together after the fact.

---

Stahl and Robin visit the Exalt together to greet her every now and then. Past the formalities, they are eternally grateful that she had given them her blessing for their marriage. Lady Emmeryn had done plenty for them – she had given Stahl everything he'd needed to grow become a formidable soldier and accepted Robin wholeheartedly.

It has become colder lately, and Robin finds herself with a weaker body that couldn't withstand the weather. Her cough has gotten worse and she'd had to use the separate room inside their house to recover from a fever.

His wife attempts to reassure him she'll be alright by breathing deeply to quell her cough, but it does nothing but worry him further. She tells him to visit the Palace for the both of them, that she's just a little under the weather and it's not something he should be overly worried about.

He hates that it's something he himself would say. She will likely berate him if he worries too much about her to the point that he won't leave, but he can't help it.

As if to ease his worries, if only even a little, Lissa has come to visit them. She's done this several times since she had heard of Robin's illness. Her spells give him the reassurance that Robin won't be experiencing discomfort for a while.

"We're still trying to find out what's causing her to be sick. I can only do this for now."

"If anything happens, please let me know. I will return right away."

He tells Robin he'll be back soon.

---

Lady Emmeryn is alive and well. She sits on the throne, a striking image of authority and grace.

It's strange seeing her after what Sully had told him – the extent she would go to end bloodshed and how she accepted her own cruel death. She was meant to lead Ylisse, the symbol of peace they needed after the bloodshed of the Ylissian crusades the Former Exalt had led. It was a cross no one else could bear.

Her conversations with the Shepherds have been more casual as of late. There is little need for her to speak with urgency among their lot, the war long finished.

"Your Grace... Robin – my wife, she is unable to visit personally and she expresses her apologies."

It's not something he thinks she should apologize for, but he knows his wife is as loyal to the Exalt as he is. She was willing to receive Robin into the army in spite of her eluded origins. No amount of their gratitude can ever repay Lady Emmeryn's actions in kind.

Lady Emmeryn listens until she's sure he has nothing else to say. She'd always been that kind of person.

The Exalt takes a few moments to formulate her reply, like there's something else she's thinking about, smiling when she finally speaks. It's odd that it would take her a while to respond to a simple apology they had made out of formality.

"It is unfortunate she cannot come. Please tell her that everything has been forgiven."

His features are nearly drawn taut at her response, but he tries his hardest to hide it during his audience until he bids his farewells. It's very much like the nobility to know how to use their words – and their silence – effectively, to skirt around social cues and veil simple statements over their true intentions. Why would she say it like something grave had been committed? How much is there left for him to learn?

---

On his way out, he runs into an old friend.

Chrom's image and gait are befitting of a royal, mannerisms that could only be instilled into someone from birth, but when anyone speaks to him, he seems strangely juxtaposed against such a pristine hallway. Sometimes it's difficult to remember that his appearance takes after the Hero-King, or that he is Lady Emmeryn's brother.

"Chrom," he greets. The man he calls cordially approaches him and glances next to him, noticing the absence of his wife.

"I see Robin isn't with you."

"She needed to stay home today."

"Has she not been getting better?"

Stahl doesn't mask his melancholy when he shakes his head, and soon the conversation veers towards the topic they'd been avoiding. This might be his only chance to find an answer. "No. And there are things she's been worried about."

"I know what's been spreading among the Shepherds. She should have heard of those rumors by now." The Prince's bluntness astounds him as he lowers his voice, preventing the conversation from being overheard by anyone else. He's always been good at hearing things he didn't want to hear, especially one as absurd as his own sister dying.

"Emm..." Chrom's sadness has always looked like it's tinged with fury. "Deep down, Lissa and I just wanted to see her once more. Her death was too abrupt."

"Lady Emmeryn appeared to be aware that she was once dead."

"...We don't plan on telling Lissa. But I have an inkling she'll realize it soon, like the rest of us."

He may be right.

Lissa is bound to find out, like all of them, and nothing will prepare her for the hurt. That the sister she loved the most had been dead all along. He remembers how deeply Lady Emmeryn's death hurt her, and she had seen it with her own eyes. She had inconsolably cried and cried for days.

Maybe Lissa is aware and is simply glad that her sister is back. She's better at putting on a brave face than most people think.

But by resurrecting her sister and making it so that she never had to sacrifice herself, perhaps it is like desecrating her death and the purpose it served to move everyone forward.

You already killed everyone and now you're spitting on our graves!

If this was all one world orchestrated by Grima to hurt them, then it is the most cruel world she could think of. Is she rubbing their failures in their faces? Punishing them for allowing a demon like her to fester within their army?

The mark of the Exalt stands out under the light of the sun passing through the Palace windows, but the face of its owner is grim.

"Maybe this is the price I paid for my blind trust."

"No matter how much I'm being told to stay wary, I find it difficult to doubt her."

"You know, I think it's better to trust what your heart says, even with the accusations towards her. If you haven't seen her forcibly cause someone to disappear in the years you'd lived together, then isn't that enough?" Chrom muses, "And let's say she is indeed Grima. If you were to believe everyone's accusations and act rashly as a result, you might be put in danger, as well."

"...I suppose so. I don't think Grima has completely taken over her. When I died to her, she looked like she was in despair."

"Then that's your answer. I have reasons to believe that, too, as foolish as I may seem doing so."

"You do?"

"I don't have all the answers yet, but it's what I believe. This world is almost perfect. Everyone has had the chance to live their dreams, and yet Robin is ill. Grima is powerful, but not omniscient. The Palace is not the same as how I remember it. You should take a look around you."

Suddenly, even the Palace walls, which Stahl should have known since the days he was a squire, feel unfamiliar. Such details shouldn't have eluded him were he lucid. Everything is a little too clean and extravagant, even for a place that is supposed to house the Royal Family. They haven't been able to afford abundant luxuries even after Lady Emmeryn assumed the role of Exalt.

The pair visit the castle where the first Shepherds grew up and trained, and the pace at which they walk does nothing to curb the dread that settles within Stahl's heart. His trust in himself is beginning to wane the more he realizes he's been dreaming, stuck inside an illusion.

What he discovers unsettles him even further.

His quarters are supposed to be familiar to him, but he finds none of that warmth and longing when he looks at them. There are belongings he knows he's never owned, like letters from people he doesn't recognize neatly tucked inside his desk. There is a hazy scent coming from the bottles he keeps inside his drawer, but he cannot tell exactly what it is. He should have been familiar with everything he uses, so why is this eluding him?

"...These aren't mine. I grew up here, so I should know."

He's dreaming. They're stuck inside a dream.

His own memories are being bastardized before his eyes. Even as he takes in his surroundings, he feels a falsified nostalgia worm its way into his heart. He feels disgusted when he realizes he was nearly lulled further into this dream by that emotion, like it's telling him it's better for him to not wake up.

This world is beginning to unravel at its seams.

Now, even the house he returns to after a long day is beginning to feel unfamiliar to him. There was always solace in how cozy it was, but he had never seen that house when he was alive.

He doesn't know what to believe anymore.

Despite knowing he should feel like he's recovered from a stupor, Stahl finds himself wondering how much of what he's hearing is even the truth. Why does he find himself agreeing with Sully's stories, and now Chrom's, which are so strange in this world that surrounds him?

And Robin – how much of their life together is real? Why is Grima constructing an illusion so elaborate that sobriety had eluded him for a long, long time?

He doesn't know how much he can trust anyone, or even himself, for that matter. Are they going mad? Is he simply going mad?

"Soon, more of us began to experience lucidity. There were a few who learned to keep records, and a few whose instincts returned to them in time. They'd tried to wake up, to escape the dream. Several attempted suicide believing this farce could be a trap, but failed. They felt no pain, nor did they experience death."

If one put it another way, their companions were immortalized as their best realized versions of themselves. Was it truly so strange for a demon to do such a thing?

"They had come to me to tell me about Emm. I know a few have tried to confront Robin, only to find no answers from her. She is the only one whose memories have not recovered, if she is telling the truth."

"Isn't it strange that only she doesn't remember, then, if Grima created this world in order to torment us?"

"Maybe something had gone wrong with Grima's power. It was strong enough, back then, for us to believe that this is the real world. Now, it's likely this illusion is falling apart."

"...Then that might mean Grima's powers are weakening."

He thinks of his wife at home, who'd been ill for months. He had been warned that she might be Grima. Why did her condition coincide with his friends telling him about this world coming apart? Was he wrong to trust her, after all, or will he be right to trust his heart like Chrom says so?

"But isn't it strange that nothing is happening? The world we're in is dwindling. Our comrades have been disappearing. Without conflict."

For a moment, Chrom's cape looks translucent against the light filtering into the hallway.

"Prior to their disappearances, they had been living their dreams. Everyone who remains is currently living their dreams. They were happy and content before we'd stopped hearing from them."

Her Grace's forgiveness, Chrom's hunch – he may be arriving at the answer he'd been looking for.

Hurried footsteps echo through the hallway, followed by a lady calling out their names.

"Lissa!"

"Chrom! ...Stahl! You need to leave. Quick."

"What's wrong?"

"I was with Robin, but she suddenly disappeared while I was preparing my things. I looked everywhere I could, but I haven't found her!"

He checks several places nearby – the parks she sometimes visits, various shops. A few remaining companions answer their doors with looks of concern, and they decide to help find her – even the ones who hold doubt in their hearts.

Where has she gone off to? He decides to look at a place they say they already searched. Stahl had planned for it to be his next destination anyway. In her state, how could she have gone so far and why?

It strangely feels as though she doesn't want anyone to find her, with her not being at her usual places, and his heart fills with worry at the notion she might have discovered an ugly truth. One that would make her think she'd done Lissa wrong and no longer deserve to see her again.

This world is falling apart.

He utters to himself, beginning to lose hope. "Will I even find her...?"

"You will."

When he looks behind him, Tharja is there. A grimoire rests underneath her hands, clutched tightly. Hexes. Illusions. Spells to manipulate people to do her bidding and feel a certain way. Spells to bring them back from the dead.

"This isn't one of Grima's tricks?"

"...No."

"Whose dream is this?"

"Not Grima's, but Robin's."

In spite of everything, Stahl feels relief – that Robin had at least been there the whole time, that she isn't completely gone still. That the person he may have spent the last decade with was her.

To think that they've been brought back by someone they thought long gone.

"After the entire continent fell, Grima stayed. Grima's arcana allowed her to keep it youthful and healthy for a long, long time, so that the body could withstand his magic. But as great as those abilities are, her body is still a human's. And as vast as Grima's powers are, they are not endless."

His brows furrow at the thought. "Did she...?"

"Robin's body reached its limits. She fell ill shortly after. Then, realizing that she was dying, Robin usurped what power Grima had left. Finally holding it in her grasp, she made a wish."

"We... we were born from that wish." At his response, Tharja meets his eyes. They have never been this steely in the time he has known her.

"That's right. Here we are, in a peaceful dream she wished to have in her dying days. We are supposed to be illusions, designed to be empty copies of ourselves that would comfort her before her death. We should have been, because all she wanted was to dream."

A dream. They were all supposed to just be part of a fallen god's fragile dream. There was nothing left that reality could offer her, so she decided to conjure an illusion.

"But she's unaware, even though this is supposed to be her own dream," he points out.

"After constructing this dream, she erased her own memory. Her memory of Lady Emmeryn's death was overwritten. She doesn't remember anything from the time she discovered her origins, either."

While he pieces these revelations together, Tharja continues speaking.

"We don't speak like we're people in a dream. We have free will. We were able to travel anywhere, to do anything we wanted, until her magic could no longer handle it. We have memories that are not supposed to be our own. We can tell that this is a dream."

"All of us had become lucid except for her?"

"It's possible... that in the back of her mind, she didn't just want to create facsimiles of us. She wanted to resurrect us so we could fulfill the wishes we had when we were alive. And she did it without realizing — after this illusion came to be, several of us started to remember things that never happened in this world. Our souls were indeed brought back from the dead."

Resurrection of the flesh is supposed to be impossible to achieve, especially so perfectly that they're their own persons, humanlike and sentient. They have been capable of making their own decisions, even so far as to condemn the god that made them.

"So Robin is the one who brought us back, after all?"

"She never had the time to learn how to control Grima's power before he claimed her as his vessel. She's pushing her already ailing body further just to keep us inside the dream."

Tharja knows. She searched for what was causing Robin to fall ill and was met with a terrible truth. It is a curse knowing dark magic – in this case, perhaps not knowing would have been a blessing. That way, she could have averted her eyes from something so cruel.

Dispelling one illusion is simple for a dark mage. But Robin had created so many that Tharja can't possibly erase it all in order to save her.

To think that she would go to such an extent...

After she'd killed Chrom, she had those sad, sad eyes. Even as he himself fell to Grima, he could still see Robin in there. She was silent and expressionless as she watched every single one of them fall, save for that look of malice, but just before his life left him he felt that undeniable ache of anguish.

How many of the Shepherds had seen and thought the same, felt the same? He never realized that the color red could look so sad.

He feels the pain in Robin's heart like it's his own. There's a tinge of betrayal and hatred inside. He doesn't know how long she's shouldered this.

The features on Tharja's face are pulled taut.

Because of how much she loves Robin herself, Stahl had never seen Tharja so frustrated until this moment. Looking at her reaction more closely, he can empathize with her. It's not that any of them hate her for bringing them back to life. They couldn't hate her anymore.

This dream has been nothing short of pleasant – for Robin, for them. They had felt alive, peaceful, content with everything she'd designed for them. And that is the exact cause of their frustration.

Even if Robin had made this wish to comfort herself, why did she make it so that everyone's dreams would be realized?

In the end, they're all she has.

"When her body can no longer withstand keeping everyone alive, what will happen to this world?"

"We'll vanish. That's how some of us went missing. She has tried to stop it several times."

"She has been prolonging her own suffering?"

"We don't know what will happen once she wakes up. There's a chance that none of us will be there, and she will pass away, all alone. There's a chance that she'll go back to where it all began, but she'll lose all her memories. But Stahl, she shouldn't stop us from vanishing. She is in pain. It's the reason she's been ill. Her body — it can't handle that kind of power."

VII

He runs in an effort to find her. He can feel the world falling apart. His body feels light, once again, but it's not from the tranquility. It's like he might disappear at any moment. He feels like he should have, but she had kept him by her side without either of them realizing.

It's a cold night, but everything feels like it's burning. He can see dreams rise into smoke and vanish. Distinguishing any figures within the smoke is challenging, but he won't stop until he finds her.

And finally, he does.

Alone on the wastes of Ylisse — and oh, how he knows that field — Robin remains youthful in spite of time. Her pale countenance is haunting – one of guilt, of worry, of exhaustion. The irises he once saw as warm amber reflected red like the sky above.

When Stahl looks down at his hands, he can see the ground through his skin. Clammy hands reach for him and grasp his sleeves, shaking in desperation and weakness. They feel strangely calming when the air has been hot and heavy. Maybe it's the relief from him finding her.

"Don't go. Please don't leave me!"

It's easier said than done. How can he listen to her when he knows he's just hurting her and prolonging her pain? "I can't bear to see you pushing yourself too far. You have to let us go."

"How can I? Everyone is gone because of me. You..." So she found out the whole truth, after all. It was going to be near impossible to shield her from it. "You'd given me so much, and I haven't been able to do a single thing in return."

"That's not true. It wasn't your fault."

"It doesn't change the fact that I failed to protect everyone. I had lost a nation their Exalt and their soldiers. I betrayed the people who welcomed me like we were always family."

The realization comes back to him – that's right. Her only world was one with the Shepherds in it. As far as he knows, her life began when she woke up in that field. She's avoiding his eyes. Out of selfishness, she's violating one of the memories she's held dearest to her.

"And not just that... I ruined it all! I only had dreams of being a great tactician, and I never realized them. My sharp mind, my origins. I just want to throw them all away. I just..." Robin's voice began to shake. Just how long has she been suffering like this, all alone and barely conscious inside a body that she's not even in control of? "I don't want to be me anymore."

"If you hate me, I... I can accept it. I don't deserve to face you after everything I've done. My entire life can't possibly atone for it."

He puts one of his hands over hers.

"Even after all of this, I could never bring myself to hate you."

"Why? When I resurrected everyone and violated your memories? Made it so that you'd love me?"

"Does it matter whether or not I wasn't in love with you in the beginning?"

"It does! Because that's not how it works."

"What of how you felt about me then? Was that all a lie?"

Robin vigorously shakes her head. "No, it's not. What I feel for you is real. I always wanted to be with you!"

"I still don't remember everything from my past, but I learned to love you in this dream. I just liked being with you. I was happy I spent my life in this dream with you." Stahl's tone turns into one filled with gentle conviction, to let her know that he's not lying in any form. "I've learned to love you the way you are now, no matter what kind of past you have."

Her eyes are glazed over. She's still unconvinced that she's worthy of such love even when she's done what she could.

"Don't you know? Everyone managed to realize their wishes. You saved us."

"That's not true!"

"..."

"That's not true... I didn't save anybody." I am nothing without the people I love. I am nothing without you. I am because you are. "You... saved... me."

She's hunched over, shaking so she can try to stop the tears from falling. Weakly clasping her hands over his, like she's trying to ask for forgiveness, like she's trying to at least remember the warmth of his hands that she'll soon forget. Her attempts to stop herself from crying fail, because he feels her tears warmly dropping on his arm.

Her mouth is parted, but no sounds come out. But he can hear her sniffling after a while and feel her anguish like it's his own.

The way she resents herself. The way she expresses her guilt.

She is drowning in her own grief, in her own regret.

It's too late to be angry towards her, if he could even be, for such a thing. The moment he woke up in that field, he had already forgiven her for everything. In the moments he has left to live, all he's capable of doing is to love her.

A simple emotion, yet so complex.

To him, this dream wasn't just for her. It was for the Shepherds she loved, for whom she lived her entire life. She authored this story so that everyone would find a more peaceful end after a war she'd wanted to win for them.

It pains him that for all the things she's confident in, she doesn't realize that this is how far she would go just for them. The little power Grima had left, she had stolen it and tried to find a way to atone for her sins.

He feels a little sad himself that this illusion has to end, that it will end up forgotten when she wakes up. He finds himself wishing that it won't just be a dream. He decides to entertain his own delusional thoughts, to try and persuade her even though the odds are stacked against them.

So this is what it feels like to be on the brink of death. No god could ever feel this fear.

He reaches out and takes her in his arms, enveloping her in an embrace, even though she had become so afraid of experiencing a warmth that she will soon forget. She sets herself free by burying herself in his chest, desperately clinging to his vanishing form.

"Robin, you need to wake up."

"I don't want to! If I wake up, I'll forget about everything! All the memories we shared before I ruined everything... and even this dream I'm having."

"But we'll have the chance to make it come true, right?"

"I won't remember anything. By the time I wake up, I'll still be connected to Grima. What if things turn out the same? What if I ruin everything again?"

It's strange, Stahl thinks. Seeing Robin, who's always had an air of certainty around her, the type who'd plan everything down to the last detail, so worried about what the future brings. Afraid of tomorrow. He thinks it makes her so human. She tries her best to live earnestly every single day.

He breaks the embrace a little so he can look at her, so he can make sure she's listening to what he'll say.

"Robin, I want you to know this. If we meet again, even if I'm not the one you love... or even if I'll love someone else, I'll stay by your side for as long as I can."

Robin looks up to the sound of his voice. Her eyes meet his, indicating that she is listening. But she doesn't say anything; she had lost her voice amidst her grief. Her jaw tightens and her fingers curl around his hand. Stahl takes it as a sign to continue.

"Everyone will be there. The Shepherds will be there. Even if we won't remember you, we'll be waiting for you. You won't ever have to be alone."

It hurts him to say it, especially when she continues to cry. But he wants to say it to convince her, because such a beautiful world being a dying girl's dream is simply too cruel. If there is a chance that she'll wake up in that field again, even without her memories, then maybe it's their chance to rewrite the story.

And even then, he's learned in this world that she is a kind Grima, one that struggled against her own instincts to atone for her mistakes. Maybe even her connection to Grima won't be a certainty.

Maybe there's a world where she can just be herself without any worries.

When she doesn't talk, he finds himself continuing to pour his heart out to her. He doesn't want to run out of time and not say anything.

"Maybe we'll find you asleep in a field again."

"I'd like for us to be friends. So I hope we can be friends again."

"But even though we're free to love different people, I liked when we were together. I hope that, just like this dream, we'll fall in love with each other again."

"I want to go home and be greeted by you. If you come home later than me, I'll be the one to greet you instead. I'll do all the chores with you. We'll live as simple as we can manage. And as many joys as we can share, I want you to share your burdens with me. You won't have to do this alone."

It's then that in her silence, she throws herself into an embrace with him which he returns.

How much time do they have left? If only their happiest moments together could have lasted an eternity. But he finds himself thinking that it's the transience that makes happy moments so precious.

So he asks her a question he'd been meaning to ask for a long, long time, but could never bring himself to.

"Robin? Do you want a family?" When he hears her gasp, he continues. "Let's have a family."

"I..."

It takes what feels like several minutes for Robin to regain her voice, for her to breathe properly. It's weak and quiet, raspy and exhausted from crying, so different from the clear voice of hers he'd frequently heard during their time in the army.

"I already thought of one. A name for our child."

He had been trying to keep himself strong for the both of them, the same way she had been for everyone else's sake, but he nearly breaks hearing that.

"What would you like to name them?"

"...Morgan."

Morgan.

It's a beautiful name. Somehow, it's fitting that she would choose it. He can feel himself grinning. He's so happy that tears are streaming down his face. "Okay. We'll name them Morgan."

He knows that Morgan will grow up to be a clever child, just like Robin. He wonders what features Morgan will take from her, and which ones from him.

"We'll live together, the three of us. You'll be healthy. I want us to grow old together, and we'll see Morgan grow too. And we'll hear from the Shepherds after the war, a war we'll win together with you. We'll hear from them often."

Her crying subsides just enough for him to continue afterwards. "So you see? We can rewrite our own story and decide how it truly ends."

As he says that, he can feel his body become lighter and lighter again. He can no longer feel her touch, but the warmth of their embrace lingers on his vanishing form. But Robin is no longer drowning in grief. There are still tears streaming down her face, but more than that...

"Stahl?"

"This might have been a dream, but I was happy." She finally makes her voice as clear as she can to make sure he hears it. "I was happy. You made me happy!"

"I'm glad."

VIII

Robin opens her eyes, blinking them open to a fair blue sky and a breezy field of flowers.

precious is sleep, better to be of stone, while the oppression and the shame still last; not seeing and not hearing, I am blest; so do not wake me, hush keep your voice down

#stahlbin #fics

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