[ "no one's ... no one's expecting you to be her, chrom. really ... alone, i don't think any one of us can be half the person your sister was."
i'm sorry. i should have done better. i should have had a plan for if they'd ever breached the walls. this isn't about him. robin swallows the thoughts down, expression a little watery.
"you don't have to be emmeryn," he says instead, letting his weight settle, still holding chrom's hand in his. "you can still be true to yourself. you can still give people hope in the ways that you know how. but if you want to fight for your sister's sake, for her ideals... i'll be by your side. maybe alone, neither of us is enough. but maybe together, we can try to be something more."
chrom's mouth works for a moment to put together words and fails. "you say that, but ... i want to believe you." a tendon pulses in the line of his throat, something tight in his jaw and the entirety of his expression as he looks away toward the wall. "i want to believe you, but i'm so angry, robin. i can't stand it. even now, all i want to do is ... what if i'm not worthy of her ideals? what if i drag you down with me?"
robin shakes his head. "i know you. if you aren't worthy, you'll keep at it until you are. if you fall, i'll be there to pull you back up. you'll have my support, mine and everyone else's."
chrom is reckless. worryingly so, even if robin knows it comes from a good place. he wears his heart on his sleeve, and he can't help but to pick up strays. he cares with the entirety of his being, and that's why it hurts so much now. robin lets his eyes fall closed, lowers his head, and makes himself a promise (no more scenes like these, not again, he won't let this happen again if he can help it) as he says aloud:
"i promise you, i won't let you stray."
(and if they both should fall, well ... then they'll have done so together, at least.)
...
there's no more words after that, though the scene in the dark, candlelit room lingers a while longer. surely they must have spoken more, after, but if there's anything else to the memory it is silent, a younger robin sitting alone in solemn vigil at the bedside as a prince mourns his older sister.
(and like a solemn shadow, the current robin lingers somewhere closer to where would be the threshold to the room, expression inscrutable.) ]
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i'm sorry. i should have done better. i should have had a plan for if they'd ever breached the walls. this isn't about him. robin swallows the thoughts down, expression a little watery.
"you don't have to be emmeryn," he says instead, letting his weight settle, still holding chrom's hand in his. "you can still be true to yourself. you can still give people hope in the ways that you know how. but if you want to fight for your sister's sake, for her ideals... i'll be by your side. maybe alone, neither of us is enough. but maybe together, we can try to be something more."
chrom's mouth works for a moment to put together words and fails. "you say that, but ... i want to believe you." a tendon pulses in the line of his throat, something tight in his jaw and the entirety of his expression as he looks away toward the wall. "i want to believe you, but i'm so angry, robin. i can't stand it. even now, all i want to do is ... what if i'm not worthy of her ideals? what if i drag you down with me?"
robin shakes his head. "i know you. if you aren't worthy, you'll keep at it until you are. if you fall, i'll be there to pull you back up. you'll have my support, mine and everyone else's."
chrom is reckless. worryingly so, even if robin knows it comes from a good place. he wears his heart on his sleeve, and he can't help but to pick up strays. he cares with the entirety of his being, and that's why it hurts so much now. robin lets his eyes fall closed, lowers his head, and makes himself a promise (no more scenes like these, not again, he won't let this happen again if he can help it) as he says aloud:
"i promise you, i won't let you stray."
(and if they both should fall, well ... then they'll have done so together, at least.)
...
there's no more words after that, though the scene in the dark, candlelit room lingers a while longer. surely they must have spoken more, after, but if there's anything else to the memory it is silent, a younger robin sitting alone in solemn vigil at the bedside as a prince mourns his older sister.
(and like a solemn shadow, the current robin lingers somewhere closer to where would be the threshold to the room, expression inscrutable.) ]