Fandom: Fire Emblem Awakening
Characters and Pairings: Robin, Grima!Robin, Chrom, Chrom/Robin
Warnings: Death and graphic description of said death. Impalement. Blood
Summary: Robin struggles to get by after Chrom sacrificed his life for him. The pain is unbearable, but there might be a way to fix his mistakes. (set around chapter 11)
Notes: All the fics I write with Chrom always end up with him suffering... huh
The wind blew over the balcony, the cold night air pulling in him, chilling him to the bone. Robin remained standing with his hands on the railing, his face turned up towards the night sky. The moon was full and bright, shining down on him. The familiar light swirled up memories inside him. Memories of camping with Chrom, laughing together and telling stories by the fire. Memories of stargazing together on a hill, Chrom's hand heavy on his own. Memories of their first kiss, standing on a riverbank under the moonlight.
Tears started dripping down his cheeks as he remembered it with a bittersweet, cutting warmth spreading in his chest. All the happy memories had been poisoned with the fact that they would never happen again. He'd never get to trace his fingers along Chrom's features, illuminated by the moonlight. Never again share kisses, seated in windows or in their tents. He'd never have another conversation with Chrom late in the night, their fingers intertwined, neither of them being able to sleep. One moment's carelessness, and it had all been taken away.
The battle with Gangrel had been haunting him every woken moment and every night. He had teamed up with Chrom, as usual since they became a thing. They were good at watching each other's backs, and Robin didn't want Chrom to run off on his own against Gangrel without proper protection. Together they had slayed a lot of enemies, the rest of their army at their backs, cutting down anyone they saw. Chrom had been thriving, full of energy and swinging his sword without remorse, getting closer and closer to his revenge. Robin had felt pleased that his strategy seemed to work out as well as it did, a smirk passing his face. He hadn't even seen the soldier with the lance before it was too late. But Chrom had.
The lance had pushed deep into Chrom's chest, so deep the tip of the lance was visible in his back. Blood flowed out of the wound in chest, staining the blue fabric. Any screams that wanted to leave his throat were choked down by the blood that flowed out through his mouth. Falchion fell from his hand and landed in the dirt.
Robin couldn't remember what happened after that. Only that he had screamed a spell, couldn't remember which one, and the soldier had died still holding the lance buried deep in Chrom's chest. He remembered holding Chrom in his arms, Chrom begging him to run, to save himself, and Robin staying, the battle raging on around them.
The few bits he could remember he relived. Every night they haunted him, replaying Chrom's death over and over and over again. He barely dared to lay down anymore, afraid of the heartcrushing pain that came with the sleep.
If that is how you feel, imagine how the others feel.
The voice in his head was back. It had been present ever since Chrom died. It had left him alone for a few hours, letting him wallow in grief in peace, but now it was back. Robin tried to ignore it, staring up at the moon.
This is all your fault. They blame you for it, and they should. You're the reason he's gone. You killed your friend.
Oh, Robin was well aware of that. He didn't fault them for blaming him. Chrom had died protecting him. Robin was the tactician. Any deaths was his fault, his burden to bear. But Chrom's death... how was he supposed to carry that on his heart?
You don't have to. You can fix this.
"Go away", Robin said out loud, closing his eyes. The moon was too painful. Everything was painful. He was so tired.
Don't you want to see him again? Hear his voice? See his smile?
"He's dead", Robin told the voice, lowering his head. He clenched his fists, tears and pain and sorrow and anger and self-loathing swirling in him, a tempest of feelings inside him. He couldn't think.
You can get him back. Don't you want him back with you?
"GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" Robin screamed, falling to his knees with his head in his hands, pulling in his hair, tears streaming down his cheeks. He choked on the sobs that clawed in his throat, screaming out his agony until his throat hurt. His chest hurt. Everything hurt. He didn't want to hurt, couldn't bear this pain anymore.
The voice was quiet, but Robin felt its presence. It waited, silent, as Robin finally calmed down. He was still on his knees, the coldness creeping into him through his trousers and boots. His hands stilled at his temples, his fingers stopped pulling in his hair. The sobs quieted down until he could finally just breathe. Even the tears were slowly drying on his cheeks. He was quiet, no sound in the cold air but his own breathing and the wind rustling the trees. Even his own thoughts seemed to have quieted down to the point he couldn't even tell he was thinking anymore.
That was the first time the voice had answered that question. Though the answer didn’t help.
"How can you talk to me?"
Robin was quiet, slowly opening his eyes again. He stared down at the grey, cold stone under him. With painfully slow movements he let go off his head, like he was worried his head would fall off his shoulders. When it didn't he put his hands down on the stone, trying to connect himself to reality again. His mind was finally quiet. No memories that pained him, his feelings and guilt numbed down. His tense body relaxed slowly.
"Can you really bring him back?"
I can help you bring him back, yes.
Chrom... He'd have Chrom close again, could fix his mistake. Chrom would be alive, would be with him. Robin slowly got up on his feet. His tears had dried on his face, determination and hope filling him instead. He had nothing to lose, and everything to win. All he had to do was take the chance. He turned his face up, looking at the moon that shined down at him.
When Chrom woke up the first thing he knew was intense pain. He gasped, dragging down air in his lungs, bending his head backwards. His chest burned with pain, like he was on fire. Every limb was so heavy, he couldn't move. He couldn't even open his eyes, or scream from the pain. All he could do was fight for his breath.
"Come on, Chrom, almost there", a familiar voice said. Chrom listened to it, confused. Was that Robin? Almost there? He was already here. Where did Robin want him to go? What had happened? Why was he here? He couldn't remember how he got here. He remembered fighting Gangrel's army. He remembered Robin smiling at him. He remembered the soldier with the lance lunging at Robin. Everything after that was consumed by darkness.
Strength was slowly coming back to Chrom's body, filling his strained muscles. He felt like he had been made out of stone and were now slowly turning back into flesh and blood again. As the pain slowly subsided, Chrom opened his dry eyes. He was in a box, he thought at first. A box made of polished, white marble. Two seconds later he realised he was in a tomb. The lid on his grave had been pushed away, and above him a familiar man was standing, his hand hovering over Chrom's chest. His palm was still glowing purple, the glow fading. His eyes were wide, staring down at Chrom. A shaky smile spread over his face as he saw Chrom's open eyes.
"I can't believe it... it actually worked", he whispered. A single tear escaped his eye, running down the cheek, over purple eye markings that started to form on each cheek, glowing in the dark tomb. Robin’s eyes started glowing as well, a soft purple glow. His smile became steadier, and grew wider, a hint of danger in it. There was something about this that Chrom didn't like. This whole situation felt wrong. But he couldn't figure out what made him feel that way. The rational part in himself, telling him this was wrong, was being drowned out by Robin's face. Robin was all he could think about. Robin, Robin, Robin...
Robin reached out and stroke Chrom's cheek. Chrom leaned into the touch. The simple movement of his head still felt stiff, like his neck had been made of stone, but he wanted to feel Robin. Wanted Robin's touch against his skin. The fingertips left his cheek, and instead the hand was outstretched towards him, an offer.
"Join me", Robin said, the voice not entirely Robin's anymore. There was something deeper underneath, a second voice mixing with Robin's own. The voice echoed in Chrom's head as well as in the tomb, the words swirling in his mind. A feeling of dread spread in Chrom's chest, like this was a bad idea. But he found himself incapable of refusing. The voice filled his mind, pushing him to obey.
Chrom lifted his right hand up out of the grave. When his hand reached over the edge of the tomb he could see the moon shining down on his hand. Illuminated by the moonlight he took Robin's hand.
