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Seven months after the end Chrom was doing alright, or so he kept telling Lissa every time she asked. Their older sister may have been returned to them but she was in no state to rule. He would have liked to return her crown to her, but it would be cruel and selfish. The war had taught him many things, like how to lead an army and when to ask for help, but most importantly to do what must be done. And so, with a heavy heart but a clear mind, he finally conceded to his council and accepted the crown and title of Exalt of Ylisse.
The coronation ceremony had been beautiful, and while he wasn’t very fond of being the center of attention, he was honored by the presence of all remaining shepherds who had traveled far and wide to be by his side here at the end of the beginning. They had come a long way.
They’d all shown up, all except Robin. The crown meant for his Queen remained on its cushion and the throne next to his stayed empty. Lucina stood on his left, her hand on his shoulder as a physical reminder of her unwavering support, but Robin’s rightful place on his right echoed louder than any applause.
But that was six months ago. More than half a year had passed without Robin, and as much as it scared him, Chrom was getting used to waking up in bed alone. She had promised she would return but with every passing day he found himself believing in it a little bit less. Death was eternal, and Naga had been silent lately. As much as he ached to see her smile just one last time he had a kingdom to rule and a daughter to raise: there was very little time to mourn, and perhaps that was for the best.
He was not alone. Every morning Frederick would appear beside his bed, already dressed to impress and updating him on today’s agenda. Sometimes, when he thought he could get away with it, he even made his bed while Chrom was dressing himself. Frederick was no mere valet, but caring for the Royal Family was in his blood. In return for his satisfied smile, Chrom was willing to turn a blind eye from time to time and allow Frederick to indulge in performing one of his old duties.
But not everything remained the same. While Frederick was the first face he saw every morning, he no longer stood by his side at any moment. After the war, Chrom had made him accept a position on his small council. He had initially refused, claiming himself inferior to the task, but when Chrom had enlisted Sumia he eventually agreed. Several months down the road Chrom could only conclude that he had done the right thing: Frederick’s many years of experience in dealing with international and military affairs as a knight reflected in his wary but often much-needed skepticism. Not a single policy could pass without amply scrutiny, and it was most often for the best.
And, as Sumia told him often during their monthly shared lunch, his new position was a lot less demanding, which left him with time to spare to care for her and their newborn daughter, while Sumia set up her pegasus riding academy. It was hard work, but from the healthy tan on her face and the smile on her lips he could tell that peace had been treating him well.
He got up every morning in his lonely bed for people like them. If he honored his sister’s ideals and created a long-lasting peace for their children to enjoy, then the tiredness that seemed to never go away again was well worth it.
A tough day of many delicate nobles to please and finances to juggle was instantly forgotten when he would sneak into little Lucy’s bedroom to find her two older siblings napping in chairs beside her crib, a book full of stories still in Lucina’s hands. He didn’t know how much longer they would stay with him. Lucina was getting more anxious with every passing day, the wanderlust that she had inherited from both her parents making her feet itch for the road. He hoped that before she left, she at least would stop to say goodbye to them, but he had a fleeting feeling that she would be with them for at least a while longer. They both shared concern for Morgan, whose smile became a little more strained with every passing month without their mother. And at night - or so Lucina confided in him one quiet afternoon - he cried out words in a language she did not know. Was it his memory, finally returning? Or merely memories of the war as seen by a boy who was far too young to have fought in it. Whatever the case, Morgan would deny and deflect every inquiry, preferring perhaps to suffer in silence.
Still, they shared breakfast with him whenever possible with matching bags beneath their eyes. Perhaps this was not true happiness, with that aching Robin-sized hole in his heart, but it sure was the next best thing.
Until one day it wasn’t. He’d woken up with from a dream he couldn’t remember and a strange feeling of longing, long before even Frederick would be there to wake him up. And yet, he had found his most stalwart knight all the same dozing outside his door, dressed in full plate armor. After ensuring that this was not a regular occurrence they both concluded that they were hit with the same sudden restlessness. Chrom would have shrugged it off and invited Frederick for an early morning spar between two friends if it hadn’t been for Lissa approached them.
She had given birth less than two months ago and hadn’t truly recovered yet. But in that moment, wearing an old yellow dress that she liked to wear during her childhood, it was almost as if they were five years back in time, long before all went to hell.
“A strange dream, a siren’s call,” she named as her reason to dress as such in the early morning for no other reason. The gods worked in mysterious ways, Emmeryn used to say when he was young, but Naga was no God and Grima was dead. So who else but Robin could be pulling these strings?
He doubled back inside to grasp Falchion and without another word lead his sister and oldest friend into the darkness of the early morning to a meadow they all knew too well. While they rode, too tense to speak a word of what they all thought, too afraid that if perhaps acknowledged their folly with a single sound it would disappear in front of their eyes. It would be too convenient for Robin to just reappear where she had first been found, five years ago.
And yet. Chrom thought to himself, too afraid to form the words even in his mind. He had allied with little girls who could turn into ancient dragons, aided by a daughter and a son who hailed from a lost future and succeeded in striking down the closest thing this world had to a God. Stranger things had happened here, and how much stranger would it be for history to repeat itself, one last time?
In the end, Robin was not in the meadow, carelessly napping on the ground. They stood there, lost and feeling a little bit silly, a hint of tears burning in their eyes. Frederick’s hand on his shoulder kept him from falling down to the ground, either laughing or crying, he did not know which one. Was this what madness felt like?
They stayed there for another few minutes, perhaps hoping for a miracle. But those who had been called gods before hadn’t spoken a word in months, and something told Chrom that he should get used a life without divine interventions. He had saved the world, his story had come to a close. All that remained were the twilight days were he ruled the legacy his friends had fought and died for, entrusted in his hands.
Chrom steeled his mind, exhaled a very heavy breath and turned around, ready to return to real life. With Lissa and Frederick at his side, he would not be truly lonely. Tomorrow, Morgan and Lucina would have breakfast with him again, and he would not tell them of this little folly of theirs, ready to bury this morning with the past.
That was, until a soft cry caught his ears. It was faint, not so much a scream but rather a whine. For a second Chrom thought it was a trick of the wind, or his memory of little Lucy and all he owed her manifesting on this strange morning. But then he heard it again, louder this time, and this time he was not alone. Frederick shot him a wary look, and Lissa’s eyes instinctively moved to her empty stomach, where little Odin had resided until not too long ago.
They stood so very still for a moment, looking at each other in tense wonder -- Could it be? Then they heard the sound again, louder this time, joined by another cry. The sun shyly peeked over the horizon, bathing the earth into a gentle light and allowing Chrom to detect a small movement in the grass, not too far from where they were standing. His legs carried him there before he could stop himself. And all he could think of was her name, forever echoing in his mind like a desperate prayer.
It wasn’t Robin, but it was her cloak. Chrom fell to his knees next to it, carefully unwrapping the sacred garment to reveal the precious cargo it protected. The day was the twenty-seventh of May, and never in his entire life had Chrom expected to receive two crying babies wrapped in his wife’s old cloak as a birthday gift, both as naked as the day they were born.
Chrom knew they were his before he could even spot the brand of the Exalt, proudly portrayed on both of their tiny little fists. A girl and a boy, both slightly aggravated at being woken, but with Robin’s cute nose and his blue shock of hair. Lissa let out a shriek behind him, and without looking Chrom knew that Frederick was shocked to silence.
With care he cradled the two tiny bodies against his own, covering them with their mother’s cape while Lissa stammered words of disbelief and wonder. He praised Naga, and all those came before her. And above all, he thanked Robin from the bottom of his heart, tears rolling down his face in spades but a smile on his lips larger than any had been since she’d been gone.
"Let's meet again, in a better life." Those had been her words, and Chrom heard them every night when he closed his eyes, seeing her fade away and out of his life once again. Sometimes he thought he would never see those eyes he had fallen in love with again, but here he was, early in the morning with twins pressed against his chest, when the boy opened his eyes. It was both Robin and Morgan staring back at him, only this time less jaded. Chrom pressed a gentle kiss against his tiny brow, and when his sister whined he gave her one as well, vowing carefully that neither of them would grow up as their parents had.
Lissa was laughing and crying along with him, and even Frederick was muttering words of thanks to the gods, who never answered. It did not matter, he thought and ordered Frederick to saddle up their horses again, refusing to hand over either of his children. He had wondered what would happen to Morgan now that he would maybe never be born in this world, but he should have known that Robin’s love for him was stronger than any force of nature. What was Death in the face of a mother’s love? Had they not speculated that perhaps she was in some early stage of pregnancy when Grima claimed her life?
He looked at the grass where he had found her one last time, with his heart in his throat but a smile on his face, before turning around and returning to Ylisstol. For no more than a split second, he swore he spotted a lone figure standing at a distance, quietly regarding them while their long white robes billowed in the wind. But when he looked again, it was nothing but a trick of the light, slowly waking up the world.
Chrom smiled, and solemnly professed his love in the quiet of the early morning. With those words he let go of a hope he didn’t know he had still been holding and set his eyes on the future. Robin would understand.
Naga remained silent. Grima was dead. The birds were chirping, and the sun rose slowly into the sky, heralding the start of a brand new day. Perhaps, Chrom thought as he carefully pressed his newborn children closer against his chest, this was not how he had dreamed of Robin’s return. But it was the next best thing.
Together, they’d be alright.