Prompt: Chrom discovers Emmeryn!Lucina in the main timeline just after the final battle against Gangrel
(content warning for blood, decapitation, images of death, and sad baby (which left me almost in tears out of all the things here))
Chrom sighs as he flicks Falchion, dispelling some of Gangrel’s blood from the blade. He glares down at the Mad King’s body, its head rolled off to the side and stuck in a perpetual expression of twisted glee, like he thought he was going to win.
Or, he knew something that Chrom didn’t.
The king’s last words hang in his mind: She’s mine! Mine alone!
He hadn’t elaborated, and the ensuring battle insured that he never would. Chrom sheathes his sword as Frederick approaches him and cheers rise among the Shepherds and the Ylissean army.
“Milord, you have done it!” Frederick gives him a smile, but Chrom can’t share in his joy.
“Chrom...” Robin is beside him--has been beside him. The tactician turns his dark eyes to Chrom’s blue ones.
The prince nods, drawing strength from his gaze. “Robin and I will lead the search inside. Get Lissa and search with her. Bring only guards. I want whatever’s in there to be found by one of us.”
Without waiting to hear Frederick’s compliance, Chrom heads into the fort, Robin at his heels.
Narrow hallways are lit mostly by torches, and only the occasional window. Dust floats in the air, confirming Robin’s reports that the fort only recently was occupied for this final battle. Chrom opens a door to find a small room full of armor; another, with weapons. He says nothing, and neither does Robin, both of them sensing the underlying tension in their blood.
Chrom can only think that Gangrel still has Emmeryn’s corpse, a whole month after her death, which came after a year of her imprisonment. The memory causes him nausea, and Chrom leans against a pillar, trying not to think of the stench of death and his sister falling, decaying into a skeleton.
“Chrom.”
Robin puts his hand on Chrom’s bicep. The prince would lean into the contact if it weren’t for his tactician’s urgency.
Chrom looks up. At the end of the hall, half hidden in shadow, is a figure draped in blue.
Marth stays silent for a moment, her expression hidden from the light. She turns and walks further into the fort.
The two don’t need to exchange words. They head after her, but she always remains out of range, and something tells Chrom not to bother trying to speak. He quickens his pace when Marth turns a corner, and when he follows around, he stops short.
Marth stands halfway down the hall, her hand on a door. She nods toward them, then turns and leaves.
Chrom is frozen, his stomach churning from Marth’s serious expression. He feels cold, powerless, out of his element. He almost wishes he were at the beginning of the battle again, about to slay Gangrel--anywhere but here.
“Hey...”
Robin puts his hand on Chrom’s cheek, drawing the man’s gaze. He smiles, rubs his thumb against Chrom’s skin.
Chrom suddenly breathes again, still knowing he’s unprepared for whatever is inside the room, but with a new resolve to face it. He squeezes Robin’s hand in thanks, and then leads the way into the room.
Emmeryn is not inside.
The room is cramped, plain, and musty. In the middle of the room is an old, worn cradle, and it shakes slightly as an infant squirms inside.
Chrom lets out a breath and hurries inside. The blue-haired baby is fussing almost silently, her skin pale and wrapped in drab cloth. Chrom picks her up, being careful of her head, and nearly at once she calms, and stares at him with wide eyes.
Chrom has never been one for small talk. He fiddles with his formal clothing, stiff and far too extravagant for his tastes. He mutters under his breath about how much he hates formal dinners, and on his birthday of all days. But then again, the day of his birth has never been fun for him; they were always filled with boring lessons or formal discourses, or it went by during the times of war--feasts and fun were had, of course, but with the lingering reminder that death could await them the next day.
No, what was usually the rewarding day was the morning after his birthday. Chrom smiles softly as he stares at a blank spot in the mirror, remembering how Emmeryn would wake him up with a plate of pancakes--and how Lissa would gobble up half of them when she thought he wasn’t looking. Lissa always handmade little gifts, like a trinket or paper craft, while Emmeryn would give him useful items, like salves for wounds and blisters, or polishing oil when he was old enough to wield Falchion. She always said something that would annoy him a little--something like “be careful,” always--but it warmed his heart nonetheless.
“Chrom?”
He turns from the mirror and finds his spouse standing in the doorway, their hand on the knob. Robin looks him up and down, a smirk forming on their face. “Oh? Why, don’t you look spiffy.”
Chrom was smiling at the sight of his lover, but their words cause him to grimace. “I feel stiff as a board in these clothes.”
Robin comes over to him and perches on their toes to kiss his cheek. “It’s okay. This Grandmaster outfit isn’t all that great, either.”
“It looks like it’s comfier than mine,” the prince grumbles, but a small smile tugs at his mouth as he kisses Robin’s lips before the other can escape his reach. “Will you please try to entertain me tonight? Or ward off all those dignitaries?”
Robin grins. “Oh, you’ll have plenty of people to talk to.”
“Boring stiffs who I have to deal with every other day of the year.” Chrom sighs and rests his hand on Falchion’s handle as it sits on his belt. “Maybe I’ll get frustrated and just cut them all down on the way out the door… Heh.”
Robin rolls their eyes at Chrom’s attempt at a joke. They pat his cheek. “Come on. It’ll be over before you know it.”
Chrom sighs again, but Robin’s reassurance gives him more strength, and he threads his fingers through theirs. Robin smiles, then leads Chrom from their room and through the hallways.
“I’m glad you’re here with me, Robin,” he says quietly, squeezing their hand. “You make everything much more bearable.”
They raise an eyebrow at him, brown irises seeming to dance with amusement. “Just bearable?”
“More than that.” He leans down to kiss their temple. “I love every moment with you. It’s just these things….”
Robin gives him a sympathetic smile. “I know. Hey…” They eye him up and down again, biting their bottom lip. “If you make it through this, I’ll give you your birthday present.”
His cheeks burn--he wants nothing more than to pull his spouse into an empty room and forget about the dinner entirely--but they’re already at the doors leading to the ballroom. A pair of guards stand in front of the extravagant entrance; they bow, and then grab onto the handles and start to pull.
Chrom takes a breath. “You’re the only thing keeping me from running out on this,” he jokes, and Robin chuckles.
When the doors are completely opened, Chrom steps into the ballroom. The sound of his footfalls echos through the space. He frowns.
He turns from the empty room and looks to Robin. “Where is…?”
A soft smile sits on Robin’s face, and they point back into the room. Chrom follows their finger, his gaze trailing across the polished floors and the lush tapestries to fall onto the sight of a dinner table and chairs. People sit in the chairs, their grinning faces all turned to him: Lucina, Morgan and Morgana, little Luci, and even the new baby, Marc, rests in his oldest sister’s arms.
“Father!” Morgan waves, his knees in the seat of his chair as he looks at him. Morgana mirrors his actions and waves, adding, “Happy birthday!”
“Happy birthday!” Luci squeals, her eyes bright.
Lucina smiles. “Happy birthday, Father.”
Chrom’s mouth falls open. He takes a few steps forward. “W-wait, what--?”
Robin nudges his side. “Happy birthday,” they whisper before continuing toward the table.
Chrom blinks, still unsure of just what is going on. Hands clap down on his shoulders, and a sudden weight lurches onto him, nearly knocking him over.
“Happy birthday, Big Brother!” Lissa cries, hugging him tight from behind. “I had the chefs make pancakes for dinner!”
Chrom turns around to face Lissa directly--only to see Lon’qu, and then Stahl, and Sumia--Vaike claps him on the shoulder and calls for alcohol, Virion makes a flamboyant greeting and wish for “health and happiness and romance,” Miriel is making notes of human interactions with Laurent at her side, and Severa is clinging to her father and asking for a surprise party for her own birthday.
That’s when it hits him, as his fellow Shepherds--friends--file into the otherwise empty ballroom to share dinner.
A surprise party. For him. On his birthday.
He starts to laugh, turning back toward the table.
Lissa stands in his way, her arms outstretched, a messily-wrapped package in her palms. “Take your present, dummy,” she says with a grin.
Still laughing, he takes it from her and rips off the paper, finding a small jar of salve. His smile turns bittersweet, and he pulls his sister into a hug.
“Please tell me you made some shoddy paper doll, too.”
“H-hey!”
He pulls away, shaking with mirth. “Did you plan this?”
“It was my idea, but Robin planned everything.” She points toward where Robin is, at the side of the room talking to a servant. “Planned for weeks.”
“Heh, really.” Chrom shakes his head, still pleasantly overwhelmed. Lissa gives him a playful punch on the shoulder before hurrying toward the feast.
Robin looks up and catches his gaze. They give a small wave, and Chrom needs no further prompting--he crosses the space between them with long strides, cups Robin’s cheek, and kisses their lips.
Cheers and rude wolf-whistles roar from the Shepherds, but Chrom doesn’t hear them.
How would u guys write the s-support for m!chrobin?
script style time
Chrom: Robin? What are you doing here? It’s not your turn for lookout duty.
Robin: Oh... I couldn’t sleep, so I figured I’d join you. And...
Chrom: And?
Robin: Well, I wanted to make sure you were all right.
Chrom: “All right”? Robin, are you still worried that I’ll get stabbed through the ribs? I thought I told you that I’d be more careful and you didn’t need to worry so much.
Robin: I know, I know, it’s just... I think I’ll always worry.
Chrom: Robin...
Robin: No, no, Chrom, please don’t get me wrong.... There’s something I have to get off my chest.
Chrom: Well? What is it?
Robin: ...I’m sorry. I don’t want to make this weird.
Chrom: Robin! Wait! You’re not leaving until you tell me your thoughts.
Robin: I... I’ll keep worrying about you because... I’ve found myself in love with you.
Chrom: W-what?
Robin: Y-you’re my greatest friend, Chrom, so please... If you don’t feel the same, just say so and forget this ever happened. But I couldn’t keep this to myself anymore. You see... I worry about you a lot, but I also...can’t stop thinking about you in general. The way you speak, or smile, or move on the battlefield, it’s...
Chrom: Robin...
Robin: I-I’m sorry, I should--
Chrom: Robin, I feel the same.
Robin: I should just go--wait, what?
Chrom: Robin, I didn’t think you’d ever say this to me, and I didn’t want to ruin our friendship--you’re very important to me, and I didn’t want to... I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable if you didn’t return my feelings. Robin, I love you.
Robin: Chrom...
Chrom: There is no one else I would rather have with me, Robin. You are the wind at my back, and the sword at my side. I would love...if you would marry me.
Prompt: Based off that one manakete Robin sketch of Chrom trying to use Robin to hide and her being amused.
Robin basks in the sun, stretching her dark wings for a moment. It’s a fine day, perfect for flying–and also perfect for napping. She shuffles a little to get more comfortable, careful not to churn up the grass of the castle gardens.
She folds her feathered wings up again and lays her head on her paws, but then the sound of hurried feet causes her to open one eye.
There’s a flash of blue and white, and Chrom is burying himself under her left wing. “Shh!” he says, just loud enough for her to hear as he presses himself against her side. “I was never here!”
Robin lets out a snort, just a few moments before Lucina comes into the gardens. Their daughter frowns, looking around at the flowers and shrubs, then comes up to Robin’s snout.
“Hello, Mother,” she says, one hand playing with her sleeve as she looks around again. “Have you seen Father? I swore I saw him come out here.”
Robin raises her head. “Why do you ask?” she says carefully.
“Oh, well,” Lucina says, smiling, revealing her small manakete fangs. “I wanted to take him shopping in the market!”
It takes a lot to make Robin feel fear, especially in her manakete form–but those cheerfully uttered words hit her heart like a stab with Falchion. She’s about to say no, she hasn’t seen Chrom, but then a memory of the previous day enters her mind, when Chrom was in one of his needy moods and didn’t let Robin study her new tome in peace and quiet.
“Oh, him?” She lifts up her left wing, revealing Chrom curled up against her and holding his knees to his chest. “I think I found him.”
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: Male Marc | Morgan, Female Marc | Morgan, Chrom (Fire Emblem), Lucina (Fire Emblem), Female My Unit | Avatar
Additional Tags: Family Fluff, Loneliness
Summary:
The twins don't remember much from before entering the current timeline, but they can recall the dark and the cold. Morgan recalls blood, and Morgana remembers being used and thrown aside.
Prompt: Robin telling Chrom how she's Grima's vessel in the doomed timeline and his reaction (acceptance?) of it.
"We'll lure them across the river, and then attack from the north and the east," Robin says, pointing out the locations on the map. She runs a hand through her bangs, pushing the hair back from her face, and Chrom notices the bags under her eyes.
"You should get some rest," he suggests, leaning toward her. He glances toward her hand, but hesitates.
"We've been fighting this war for almost two years, Chrom," she sighs. "We need to defeat Gangrel. People on both sides are needlessly fighting and suffering for this, and if we don't succeed..."
"Robin..." Chrom steels his courage, and puts his hand over hers. Robin's eyes immediately widen and she connects her gaze to his, but though she tenses, she doesn't pull away.
"I believe we can get through this together," he says, squeezing her hand and moving his face closer to hers. "I believe in your ability. I believe that everything we've done so far will come to fruition on the morrow, when we fight Gangrel. We will defeat him, that I promise you."
"Chrom..." Robin begins to lean closer to him, her cheeks reddening, and Chrom's heart starts to beat faster and faster. He feels her breath against his lips, and he closes his eyes.
"I can't."
Chrom opens his eyes to find Robin standing from the table, pulling her hand to her side and turning away from him. She puts her hood up over her head and crosses her arms.
"Robin?" Chrom hurries to his feet and comes up behind her, but once again, he hesitates to touch her. "Did I... do something wrong?"
"You? No, no...."
Chrom's brow furrows, and he shakes his head. "I don't understand, Robin. I... I love you. Haven't you realized? For the past two years, since I met you, I think... I've loved you all this time."
"You're the only one," she whispers, still refusing to look at him.
"What do you mean?" This time, he puts his hand on her shoulder. "The Shepherds trust you--"
Robin smacks his hand away. She turns around, but her head is lowered; her hood shields her eyes, only revealing the scowl on her trembling lips. "My ability, maybe, but they don't trust in me, they don't like me. Not after I've let some of them die...."
"Emmeryn's death is not your fault," Chrom insists, his voice becoming hard as he hides his hurt. "She was assassinated. My injury from that night...you were the one who kept me from death. Nowi, and Olivia, and the others--their deaths were not your fault, either. War takes people from us, Robin. The war is at fault. Gangrel is at fault for continuing to stubbornly and stupidly resist."
"You're wrong, Chrom!" she snaps, and now her whole body is shaking. She turns away again. "I bring misfortune wherever I go. I should never have joined the Shepherds."
"Robin." He grabs her arm and turns her to look at him. He lowers her hood, revealing the tears leaking from her eyes. He puts his hand on her cheek and wipes away the wet tracks on her skin. "You have brought us to many a victory, and helped so many of us survive. I will always be grateful for that. I will always love you for that, and for so much more. So please...don't say I made the wrong choice in offering you a place at my side."
More tears well up in her eyes as she gazes back at him. "You don't understand."
"You said 'I can't,'" he murmurs. "Does that mean, despite your reasons otherwise, you love me as well?"
She only stares back at him, longing and pain mixing together in her eyes. "You don't understand," she repeats. "You don't know."
"Then tell me," he begs. "Tell me and see whether or not that makes me love you less, whether or not it takes away my faith in you. Because I promise you, I would love you even if you were to kill me in cold blood."
"You're an idiot prince," she says, her voice cracking.
"An idiot prince I may be, but it is the truth. It is my strength."
Robin shakes her head, but finally she lifts up her hands. "You know I'm from Plegia," she says, slowly beginning to take off her right fingerless glove. "That I moved from poor village to poor village with my mother."
"Of course. You told me not long after we met."
She pauses in her movements, then takes a breath and fully removes her glove. She presents the back of her hand to him, showing him a purple tattoo of intertwining lines and menacing eyes. "We moved so much because my mother had to hide me from the Grimleal. I... was bred for them."
The word disgusts him. "'Bred'?"
"This is the Mark of Grima." Her voice shakes. "It labels me a-as Grima's vessel. It is my destiny, my fate... to succumb to the power of the Fell Dragon and give up my body to him. Naga marks you as exalted on your shoulder, and on my hand, Grima marks me as fell. I’m misfortune, Chrom. I’m your death, just waiting to be used. I’m everyone’s destruction.”
Chrom’s eyes narrow, and his hand squeezes her arm. “Don’t talk about yourself like this. You’re wrong.”
“Chrom--!”
“You’re wrong,” he repeats. “I’ll say it however many times I need to. You don’t have to follow this ‘destiny.’ This isn’t your fate, Robin. You are your own woman. You don’t belong to anyone, be they man or god.”
“It isn’t that simple!” She pulls away from him once more and stalks toward the other side of his tent. “My mother was killed protecting me, even though we traveled so far and for so long. The Grimleal won’t give up. I… Sometimes, I even….” She stares at her hand. “I hear voices in my dreams, terrible voices, and I’m so scared of them.”
“Robin…” Before he can think otherwise, he goes to her side once more and pulls her against his chest, wrapping his arms around her. The tactician tenses again, but mere seconds later, she lays her head against him.
"...I do love you as well," she admits softly, her voice almost inaudible. "That's part of why I'm so scared."
His heart soars as much as it feels trapped in an icy grip. "Then believe in us, in our love. Please, Robin...believe in yourself. Take as much strength as you need from me, and realize that you are you. This hand of yours is just like your other, don't you see?"
He takes her tattooed hand and raises it, pressing his lips against her dry skin. He looks to her for permission, but when she does nothing, he frowns.
"I'm sorry if that made you uncomfortable," he murmurs.
Her mouth trembles, but she smiles. She slides her hand from his grip and touches his cheek. "It really made me happy."
His eyes widen in surprise, and a small burst of laughter escapes her mouth. Her smile grows wider. "I... I really want to believe in you, Chrom. In us. It...will be hard, but I want to try."
"Robin..." He gently grasps her hand and kisses her wrist before pulling her even closer. His head is spinning, and throughout his sweet words and actions, his cheeks are red and his lips are spread in a grin. "To hear you say such words makes me happier than you can imagine. You truly are the wind at my back and the sword at my side."
"Together, my love," she whispers. "We shall build a peaceful world. Just you...and me..."
Chrom presses his lips against hers, tasting her skin and warm breath. Somehow, even more so, he falls deeper in love with her with such a simple act.
He intertwines his fingers with hers, and their hands stay that way until morning.
Prompt: @Rose THAT ONE FMA AU WE WERE TALKING ABOUT, BONUS IF IT'S ANGSTY
Robin sits in her study, a hand tangled in her hair as she re-evaluates her alchemist calculations. She wants to reject what she’s looking at. It angers her and scares her, because all she’s ever wanted since she met Chrom is to stay with and protect her family, and now it appears that she won’t even get to do that much….
“Robin? Are you in here?”
She turns to the door to find Chrom poking his head into the room. He smiles. “Will you come into the living room for a momen?”
Robin frowns, but compiles without complaint and followers her husband into the living room--only to find a photographer there, setting up his equipment.
She freezes, and Chrom takes advantage of the surprise to put their toddler Lucina into her arms. Robin stares at her little girl--the girl she loves, the girl she’s afraid to love--and Lucina grins broadly.
“Sorry, Robin,” Chrom says, chasing after Morgan as the baby crawls across the room. “But--” he catches Morgan “--I wanted this to be a surprise. Our first family photograph. I can’t believe we’ve never gotten one, Robin.”
He must know perfectly why she’s never taken a photograph, other than the one she took with Sully all those years ago when she was too drunk to think straight. “That’s expensive,” is all Robin can sputter, but Chrom just smiles at her and says, “I might have been saving up. Just enough for one, though.”
He holds Morgan in one arm and adjusts Robin’s collar with his free hand. “...There! Perfect.” He moves to stand beside her, then nods to the photographer.
Robin holds Lucina so that the girl is facing the camera, but she can’t stop frowning. “Chrom--”
“What you fail to realize, Robin,” Chrom says quietly, putting on a serene smile for the camera, “is that I’m going to be a wrinkled old monster myself someday. So for today, we’re going this picture, and one day I’ll be able to look back at us all together, smiling. No matter what, we’re always a family. So even if you’re scared, Robin, don’t try distancing yourself from us. And one other thing too, okay?”
He locks his blue eyes to hers and says, “Stop calling yourself a ‘monster.’ It’s not true.”
Robin opens her mouth, but before she can even think of any words to reply with, the photographer announces that he’s ready. Robin panics, wanting to disappear, but Chrom leans closer to her.
“Smile, Robin.”
She doesn’t manage to do so, nor can she stop the tears from leaking out of her eyes by the time the camera flashes.
()()()
“Robin? What’re you--?”
She loses her balance on the branch, scraping her palms on the bark as she swings downward and plummets to the earth. Chrom rushes up to her, but she just shakes it off and shows him her hands.
“Not a scratch,” she assures him.
He tries to smile through his worry. “That doesn’t mean you should be careless. What were you even doing?”
“Fixing the swing, for the kids,” Robin says quietly.
“It’s not like you to be so handy,” Chrom says with a laugh. He sits beside her in the grass and takes her hand. “I could’ve done that.”
“You already do so much.”
“What’s a little more?”
Robin smiles a little, but as she looks off at the darkening sky, her expression falls.
“Robin?”
She squeezes his hand. “I have to leave now. But I’ll be back. Will you wait for me, here with our children?”
Chrom pauses, tensed. But then, he leans over and softly kisses her lips. He rests his head against hers. “Of course I will,” he breathes. He puts his free hand on her cheek. “Forever. I promised you that much, that I wouldn’t die before you. So I’ll be right here, waiting for you.”
()()()
“Don’t tell the children about my body, all right?”
“Okay,” Chrom says quietly as he helps her put on her coat. “...Are you sure you don’t want to wake them up, to say goodbye?”
Robin can’t meet his eyes. “If I see their faces, I’ll…”
He kisses her cheek. “It’s okay for you to cry, you know.”
She doesn’t try to argue with him, and instead picks up her suitcase.
“Daddy?”
They pause, and turn to look down the hall. Lucina rubs her eye as she toddles down the hall, her hand clasped around a yawning Morgan.
“What are you two doing up so early?” Chrom asks, a forced lightness in his tone as he walks over to them.
“Morgan had’ta go potty,” Lucina mumbles.
“What a good big sister you are,” Chrom praises, ruffling her hair.
Lucina smiles, but then she catches sight of her mother and she freezes. Morgan does, too.
An aching cold clenches Robin’s heart, and her eyes water. Too afraid that her voice will break, she takes one last look at her family, together, and then opens the door and leaves into the predawn light.
()()()
She’s over four-hundred years old, and finally, Robin feels it as she kneels in the grass. Her eyesight has become hazy, but she can make out the letters before her just enough so that a smile dons on her face.
“Hello, Chrom. I’m home.”
She closes her eyes for a moment and pretends she can feel the warmth of his arms around her. “Don’t worry about breaking your promise, all right? Lucina told me your last words...and I’m not angry. I’m far from angry. I just miss you, is all.
“So get this…,” she says, a little laugh in her throat. “Lucina actually called me her mother. Though she did call me a ‘rotten’ one… Morgan never said such a rude thing, though he should have, don’t you think? Though I’m glad I got to spend at least some time with them….”
She laughs a little, then becomes quiet. Her whole body aches and she’s scared of it, thinking back to all the times she would show her unhurt skin to her husband to alleviate his worries.
“Living through all these years, I’d always felt that I’d been cursed, but then I met you, Chrom, and we had two beautiful, wonderful children, who only have the best of us in them. I’m glad about that. I felt blessed that I lived long enough to meet you, to love you and our children…. I’ve had a fulfilling life, thanks to you. It’s been enough.
“But Chrom… I want to keep on living, believe it or not. Look at me, such a hypocrite…. Guess I’m pretty helpless without you, huh?”
She smiles wide and closes her eyes again.
()()()
Robin blinks almost sleepily, her mind foggy.
“There are better places to take a nap than on the ground, you know.” A familiar, long-unheard voice enters her ears, its deep tones warming her from head to toe. “Give me your hand,” he says, extending his own.
She blinks again, wide awake now, smiling widely, and she puts her hand in Chrom’s and he helps her stand.
“I-I love you so much…,” she says, her voice breaking as she wraps her arms around him and buries her face in his chest.
Chrom holds her close and strokes her cheek, gently nudging her chin up so he can look her in the eye. He kisses her, then says, “I love you too, and I’m proud of you for all that you’ve done. We have a lot to talk about,” he says with a laugh.
She buries her face in his chest, inhaling his scent. “I’ve missed you so much, Chrom….”
“And I you.” He strokes her hair, placing his lips on her forehead. “Welcome back, Robin. It’s over now.”
Prompt where f!Morgan chases Noire with a bug and Chrom or Robin scold her. While they lecture her she accidentally tell them she has a crush on Noire.
“BLOOD AND THUNDER TO YOU IF YOU DO NOT GET THAT MONSTROUS CREATURE OUT OF MY SIGHT!”
Robin sighs and looks up from his paperwork. The shadows of Noire and his younger daughter pass over the tent cloth. Morgan giggles as she chases after the archer, calling out things like “Just wait up, you silly!” and “It’s not like I’ll hurt you or anything!”
“She’s up to it again,” the tactician grumbles, getting up from chair and poking his head into the outside world. The camp is starting to settle down now that the sun is casting long shadows, but another of Noire’s terrifying roars alerts him to the path the two young women took. He follows after them and quickly finds them outside Noire’s tent. Morgan stands between the girl and the tent flap, her arms raised high to reveal the stag beetle in her grubby hands.
“All right, now,” Robin says, coming up and grabbing his daughter by the hood. “What did I tell you about annoying Noire?”
Morgan pales. “That I shouldn’t.”
“Why?”
“...’Cause we can’t afford any injuries or damages…”
“Good.” Robin nods toward Noire, who’s calmed down and is watching them with a shocked stare. “Sorry about this, Noire. I’ll go deal with her now….”
With that, he drags Morgan back to his tent, where he unceremoniously plops her down into his chair. Morgan hunches over, keeping the stag beetle cradled in her hands.
“Morgan.” Robin puts his hands on his hips. “I’ve told you too many times now to leave Noire alone. I don’t care if she’s fun to prank or something--we don’t have time for this sort of silly stuff, and it’s not fair to Noire.”
“But--!”
“But what, Morgan?”
She shuffles in the seat and plays a little with the beetle. “...I…like teasing Noire, okay?”
Robin opens his mouth to retort, but nothing comes out. He blinks a couple times. Understanding dawns on him.
Morgan just continues to busy herself with the stag beetle, letting it crawl over her fingers.
“You know…” Robin tries to hide his smile by turning and fiddling with the paperweight on his desk. “Maybe I’ll let you go this one time...on a couple conditions.”
“Really?!” She brightens at once. “What?”
Now he really can’t look at her, for fear of his wide smile giving him away. “Give up the teasing tactic. It doesn’t work for this type of battle. And for Naga’s sake, just be normal with Noire. Don’t try to make her use her talisman.”
“...Battle…?”
He pretends like he didn’t hear her, instead putting his paperweight down and coaxing her up out of the chair. When she’s standing, he takes advantage of her confused state to gently push her out of the tent.
“You heard me,” he says, then pecks her hair with a kiss. “Now get going and stop annoying everyone in camp.”
He goes back inside--though his mind is entirely off of work now--leaving Morgan standing there, dazed, a bug in her palm.
