Chapter Text
“Alright, here we are!” Chrom announced with a proud grin on his face. The cobbled grounds offered an expansive space, perfect for both magic and melee training. Robin gazed around, making a face somewhere between disgust and amusement at the row of mangled training dummies off to one corner. Chrom assured himself it was the latter as he continued, “Pretty cool, huh? It’s my favorite place to go after the really boring studies Mother and Father insist upon.”
Her nose crinkled with her frown. “I find studies to be most fascinating.”
“O-oh! Sorry!” he blurted, his confidence quickly evaporating. “I guess I just like doing things instead of reading about them…”
“You can learn a lot from treatises and historical accounts that a sword alone simply cannot teach you. Obviously, hands-on experience is important too, but oh, there are so many wonderful techniques and illustrations in Joaquim of Chalphy’s A Foundational Description of the Art of Fencing. In fact,” she lifted a finger, “the literature from the knights of Chalphy provides a sturdy foundation for any sword fighter! As a noble, you would do well to study the section on rapiers, though as a future wielder of Falchion, the longsword section would be beneficial, as well. Oh, actually, you may also be interested in…”
Though not a poor student by any means, Chrom often found himself reprimanded by his instructors for being too jittery or talking out of turn. However, listening to Robin drawl on was so much more charming. Her deep brown eyes caught the sunlight just right, shining like gold, and her smile grew bigger with each additional tidbit of knowledge she shared. A touch of pink settled on his cheeks.
“…and there’s even a segment on magical swords! Do you practice magic, as well?”
“Huh? Oh, gods, no,” Chrom answered, shaking his head. “Father says the sons of Naga should wield swords alone, that the daughters of Naga are meant to be the magic wielders…” He paused for a moment. “Your father, the grand vizier, he’s a sorcerer though, right?”
Robin nodded. “Yes, many Plegians specialize in magic, especially those of high rank. Even King Gangrel himself wields a Levin Sword!”
“Huh! That’d so weird! Ylisse has noble houses with magic, like little Ricken’s family, but we’d never be ruled by a magic user…”
She shrugged. “It shows. Certainly a more studious exalt would not be so quick to involve himself in frivolous conflicts with his neighboring lands. I hope that when you rule Ylisse one day, you study the past to not repeat it in the future…”
Both Chrom and Frederick let out small grunts of disapproval. Before Frederick could speak about how certainly out of line she was, Chrom quickly spoke, “Well, maybe I just need a well-read mage like you as my tactician! Then you can do all the reading for me and I’d never have to pick up a book again!” He grasped his hips, puffing out his chest proudly.
Her giggle sang through his ears, a sweetness he never imagined from anyone, much less a Plegian. Warmth flushed his cheeks once more, certainly noticeable this time. She smiled softly, then curled her lips into a smirk. “Hmm, I’ll consider your most gracious offer, Prince Chrom, but only if you can prove yourself a worthy enough adversary even without books.”
“Haha, you’re on!” Chrom grinned. “Frederick! Ready my sword!”
“Of course, milord. Lady Robin, do you require a tome, as well?”
Robin rustled in her cloak, pulling out a worn tome. “I always carry a trusty Thunder tome on me! One can never be unprepared for battle at a moment’s notice!”
Frederick gave a small, poignant nod of approval. “Indeed!” he agreed as he pivoted to fetch a training sword and buckler. He returned quickly, with Chrom eagerly snatching the equipment from his hands.
The pair readied themselves on opposite ends of the grounds.
“May the better tactician win!”
“You’re on, Robin! Here I come!”
Robin proved to be a tougher opponent than Chrom had expected. He narrowly evaded most of her attacks, and found it difficult to execute any cuts she wasn’t prepared for.
“Your swordplay is incredible, Chrom!” Robin exclaimed, sounding surprised just as she shouted, ”Thunder!”
“Agh!” Chrom shielded himself with the buckler, sparks of electricity crackling the wood. “I’ve a long way to go yet if I can’t best you!” He retaliated with a flurry of cuts, forcing Robin to step backwards. But instead of casting a spell to parry, as he expected, she hooked her leg down and ducked out of the way, leaving him stuck in forward momentum without an opponent. She took the opportunity to ready her spell, sending a blast of Thunder into Chrom’s exposed side.
Chrom folded in half, covering the staticky wound with both hands as his sword and buckler fell to the ground. Robin froze solid, staring down at her right hand in abject horror.
“MILORD CHROM!” Frederick called as he rushed over, vulnerary in hand. His glare shot daggers through Robin, who still stood there in shock, tears pooling in her eyes. When he saw her choked breathing, he softened, turning his attention to Chrom with utmost urgency. “Here, milord, the vulnerary will help…”
“Erg…” Chrom groaned as he sat up, taking a swig of the potion. “Thanks, Frederick.” He turned to Robin with a sheepish flushed grin, his eyes closed. “You really got me good with that one!”
When she didn’t respond, he opened his eyes to observe her. Tears were dripping from her chin as she stood there, her chest shallowly heaving with every breath.
“Robin? Are you okay? I-is your hand hurt?”
Without an answer, she fled from the training grounds.