Chapter Text
Chapter 1
“Look, Lora, is that who I think it is?”
"The tactician!”
“He’s okay, thank Naga!”
The excited whispers burst from the next aisle, and Robin freezes, his finger tracing the spines of the books.
Please, don’t come around the corner, he thinks. Just leave me alone. He doesn’t think he can take much more gawking today. But he straightens anyway, and beside him, Chrom gives him a little smile and a shrug, holding the books Robin has already gathered.
The two whisperers peek around the corner, and their eyes widen. Both boys, in their mid-teens, are dressed in fine clothing that speaks of an upper class upbringing. Both are betas, he can tell, his discerning eye able to identify them at a glance.
“P-prince Chrom!” the taller one squeaks, and sketches a hasty bow. The shorter one follows suit a second later.
“Good afternoon,” Chrom greets with an elegant smile. Chrom probably feels as uncomfortable as Robin does with all the attention, but he puts on a cultured front. He was raised to be a prince, and although sometimes that poise doesn’t come through, today he looks and acts the part.
“Good afternoon, Prince Chrom,” the taller one responds, keeping his eyes down. If they boys were alphas, they might stand more alert, meet Chrom’s eyes directly. But they are betas, and they look to Robin instead. As a beta himself, he is less likely to lose his temper or grow aggressive. Chrom doesn’t lose his temper often, but when he does, it is usually in defense of his family and companions. “Lord Robin, we’re sorry to disturb you.”
“It’s no problem,” he says, and forces a smile. Robin has a feeling if Chrom wasn't with him, he might have been pestered with questions. He glances to Chrom, whose smile spreads.
“It was nice to meet you both,” the tall boy says, and pulls the quiet one back around the bookshelf.
Robin sighs, turning his attention back to the bindings. The sooner he can find the book he is looking for, the sooner he can retreat to his room.
The whispers continue, perhaps more excited than before.
“Did you see the prince?”
“He’s so regal, just as Father said he was,” the second one answers.
“And the tactician is looking much healthier.”
”This is the best day ever!”
Robin’s face burns as his finger pauses in its sweep. Chrom leans closer to tease, “You are looking much less pale.”
Robin’s mouth twitches in annoyance - why can't everyone just forget about that little incident from three nights ago? But Chrom looks genuinely cheerful for the first time in a while, so Robin tries to let the embarrassment go. He hasn’t seen Chrom this happy since... before Emmeryn. Robin’s mood darkens, and he scans the shelf faster now.
When Chrom informed the Ylisseans of Robin’s involvement in ousting the Plegians from the capital, they started treating Robin as another member of the royal family. Robin doesn’t feel worthy of their admiration, especially not after his plans had gotten their former Exalt killed little more than a month before, but Chrom was insistent. And even Robin knows when to pick his battles with the headstrong alpha... and when to back down.
“Ah,” he exclaims, as he locates the book. With relief, he draws the heavy tome from the shelf and holds it in both hands, studying the cover for a moment. It is an extended treatise on peacetime militias, something that Robin believes will come in handy soon. “This is it, let’s go.” He turns enthusiastically and nearly bumps into Chrom, who he forgot was hovering right beside him.
Chrom’s hand shoots out to catch his elbow, and Robin draws a hasty breath. It smells like Chrom, that wonderful mix of sword oil and the unique, indescribable scent of his skin - and alpha. Even though Robin is just a beta, he still reacts to Chrom’s scent. He is suddenly very aware of Chrom’s touch, even through the sleeve of his cloak. Chrom’s chest expands slightly as he breathes in, and then Robin is looking into his blue eyes. With another quick breath, Robin’s body relaxes a bit, swaying toward Chrom.
“Be careful,” Chrom chides, and releases Robin’s arm when he stops swaying.
The alpha prince is fiercely protective of his close friends and family, and he has taken an almost obsessive interest in Robin’s well-being since the incident. Chrom brings Robin food and drink, and forces him to sleep when he so much as yawns. When Chrom cannot be by his side, he assigns one of the Shepherds to stay with Robin instead.
Robin finds it incredibly endearing that Chrom wants him to get better… but sometimes it feels a little stifling. That is Robin’s beta nature shining through - the craving for independence mingling with the desire for comfort and protection.
“Robin, are you alright?”
Chrom’s voice startles him, and he realizes he’s been staring at Chrom for a few moments.
“Yes, I’m fine,” Robin whispers. He brings the large book to his chest, and the neutral, familiar scent of paper and ink drag him back to his senses a bit. Chrom’s pupils are slightly dilated, and he studies Robin with that sharp glance before stepping back. Robin breathes easier without Chrom’s scent surrounding him.
Flustered, Robin goes to the register and tries to pay for his books. He suffers through the bookseller’s kind but probing questions into his health, but the seller won’t accept his money. Eventually Robin accepts the gift - he just wants to get out of this bookstore and away from the eyes of the two young betas that are practically boring holes through his cloak. The bookseller looks inordinately pleased and Robin tries to be grateful, but all he sees in his mind’s eye is Emmeryn’s broken body in the sands of Plegia, and Chrom on his knees before it. Robin doesn’t think the shopkeep would be so generous if he knew that plan had failed.
Chrom holds the door for Robin as they go to leave.
“I’m not made of glass, Chrom,” he snaps, and steps out onto the chilly street. Chrom keeps pace beside him and they move toward their waiting carriage. Robin eases back on the harshness in his tone - the last thing he wants is to push Chrom’s alpha nature. “I understand you’re concerned, but you don’t need to protect me.”
He looks at Chrom, and is temporarily distracted. In the patchy autumn sunlight, Chrom’s blue hair shines, and his eyes sparkle. If he were wearing the exalted crown, it would catch the light, as well. Robin’s annoyance with Chrom’s behavior fades. It is difficult to be frustrated with Chrom for very long, especially when he turns that slight, almost shy smile on him, as he’s doing now.
Robin shakes his head and continues, “I’m feeling much better.” There is something in Chrom’s expression that Robin can’t identify, but he presses his point regardless. “So much so, I really don’t think the constant babysitting is necessary.”
“It’s not babysitting.” Chrom snorts his dismissal. He moves closer to Robin, though, as if the thought of Robin going off by himself is too much. “I need to take care of you.” He grips Robin’s arm and pulls him close. Robin can smell him but out in the open, with the scents of spiced autumn food and drink floating around, Chrom's delicious scent is diluted. “It was… terrifying to see you collapse like that.” Chrom’s voice is low and intense, practically a growl.
Robin supposes Chrom has reason to be protective. Three days ago, at the celebration dinner in the Shepherds’ honor, Robin collapsed of exhaustion. There had been so much to do to bring Ylisstol back to its pre-occupation state. Too many long nights of planning, of catching an hour or two of sleep a day and pushing himself the other twenty-three hours, and his body had given out under the strain. It didn’t help that he’d collapsed in the middle of Chrom’s speech.
Chrom had apparently lost it when he fell, according to Olivia. He’d leapt across the chairs separating them and it had taken Frederick and Gaius to hold the agitated prince back, so that Maribelle and Lissa could get close enough to heal Robin. A shiver ran down Robin’s spine at the idea of Chrom gathering Robin’s unconscious body in his arms and keeping everyone away, and it was not a fearful shiver.
Chrom's reaction certainly explained why the betas in the bookstore were so hesitant in his presence.
Robin had awoken to Chrom’s fury vibrating along his skin, and Chrom had made him promise to take much better care of himself. Robin had never experienced that intensity from Chrom before, not even when Gangrel held Emmeryn as a hostage in exchange for the Fire Emblem. While he recovered, Chrom had been by his side nearly constantly. Olivia, the sole omega in the group, had shyly told Robin that Chrom had called a meeting with all the Shepherds about Robin’s health, and ordered the Shepherds to watch out for him.
Robin can’t help but feel unworthy of both Chrom’s protective concern, and the almost-hero worship the Ylisseans give him.
Chrom’s words echo through his head. "It was… terrifying to see you collapse like that.”
Robin tilts his head, confused for all of an instant before the pieces click together in his head. Chrom is doing this overly protective thing because he’s afraid of losing Robin. It is not just because of his nature, that he wants to protect everyone under his charge - he wants to protect Robin especially.
His heart beats faster at the thought.
Those large blue eyes assess Robin for an instant, and he meets them calmly, as an equal would. There is no challenge in Chrom’s eyes, and Robin knows there isn’t any in his own.
Robin has spent more time than he wants to admit, looking into those eyes, that charming face.
They pass by a cart with an older couple in it, and the wife says, in what her deaf ears probably think is a whisper, “Look, dear, the Prince and the tactician!”
There are more whispers, from both right and left, as nearly everyone in the vicinity heard her. His cheeks flush yet again as he can feel multiple sets of eyes on him.
“Do you need anything else while we’re here?” Chrom asks, gesturing around the busy mercantile street. He moves closer to Robin.
Robin shifts the satchel in his hands, having completely forgotten their whole purpose for being here. Bookstores, apothecaries, and magical warehouses surround them, but he shakes his head. “No, I think I’m all set for now.”
Chrom nods, and they approach the carriage waiting patiently for them at the end of the street. Frederick is standing beside his horse, looking stern but patient as usual. He hadn’t protested their shopping trip, which surprised Robin a great deal. Frederick is normally focused on Chrom’s safety, and coming here into the city with only a formal guard is risky. But, Emmeryn did it so often that it was considered commonplace. The Ylisseans seem to adore Chrom almost as much as his sister.
Chrom grabs the carriage door, and motions Robin to get in before him. Robin sighs at the treatment, but seeing that dominant stance, decides not to argue.
Chrom sits beside him on the bench. It is wide enough that they aren’t touching, but in the enclosed space Chrom’s alpha scent is already seeping into him. It isn’t particularly strong, but it still sets the hairs at the back of his neck on end as he breathes it in.
Robin shifts toward Chrom as the carriage lurches forward, bearing them home - to the castle, Robin hastily corrects himself. Robin's “home” should be in the Shepherds’ barracks - but Chrom had assigned him quarters in the castle after he collapsed.
Chrom stretches that muscular body and makes a little pleased noise, and then turns to Robin. Being back in Ylisstol has certainly done Chrom good. The people have fallen for their prince, joined together in their mutual hatred of Plegian rule, and when Chrom and the army took back Ylisstol, the commonfolk followed them through the streets. They also mourn Emmeryn's death together.
Chrom smiles and Robin finds himself returning it.
“What are you so cheerful about?” Robin asks.
“Things are finally coming around,” Chrom explains. The carriage shifts sideways and Chrom puts a gloved hand on the seat between them, nearly pitching into Robin. “The city is returning to pre-crisis stability, my council isn't in an uproar, and you are feeling better.”
Robin finds it surprising to be listed last on Chrom's list - in order of priority, perhaps most important. He wasn't expecting to be included at all. What does it mean that Chrom places Robin’s well-being at the same level with peace and political solutions?
“Ah,” Robin says, when it seems apparent Chrom is waiting for a response.
“You are, aren't you?” Chrom’s eyes narrow, and he scoots closer to examine Robin’s now-pink cheeks.
“Yes, I am,” Robin hastily agrees, not wanting Chrom to think he's ill again. “I’m fine.” In truth, he's distracted by Chrom's closeness. Their hands are inches apart, and if he were to lean to his right a bit more…
The carriage turns to the left and Robin falls up against Chrom's clothed arm. He gasps in surprise, and Chrom catches his shoulder, holding him upright. Robin lifts his head and Chrom is right there, that heady alpha scent telling his beta brain to relax and let Chrom take charge.
With wider than normal pupils, Chrom drops his head so that their noses almost brush. Robin's stomach flutters, and he’s breathing fast and shallow.
Chrom’s eyes drop to his neck for a moment, those long lashes nearly obscuring that blue gaze. Robin realizes that he is looking at the pulse-point where Robin’s blood is beating faster through his carotid. That look on Chrom’s face is all alpha, and Robin’s brain dredges up the fact that when alphas mate an omega, the alpha will bite their mate on that spot. There are glands on an omega that release endorphins and all sorts of pheromones when an alpha bites them there, sometimes rendering them temporarily paralyzed or submissive.
But Robin is a beta, and biting that spot will have little to no impact on his body.
Robin desperately wants Chrom to bite him, anyway. To mark him… to claim him. The intensity of his desire surprises him.
Robin tilts his head up and to the side. Chrom’s pink tongue flicks out across his lips, and Robin stifles a noise deep in his throat at the sight. Chrom's eyebrows come down over those beautiful blue eyes, and he's staring right at Robin again. Robin leans in and-
“Milord,” Frederick's voice comes from outside the carriage, breaking the spell. Robin’s body flushes and he scoots down the seat, away from Chrom.
Robin’s not sure what just happened. Did he just try to... kiss Chrom? Or worse, wish for Chrom to bite him like an omega? He ducks his head, hand to his forehead, as Chrom speaks with Frederick through the window. A quaver in the prince's deep voice draws Robin’s attention. The words wash over him unheard as he worries about that tone. Is that… disgust? Chrom has never indicated a sexual preference for men or women, despite being alpha. Robin closes his eyes and draws in a slow, calming breath, but it doesn’t help, not with Chrom’s scent still heavy and cloying in the carriage.
Robin tilts the window outward, letting in fresh air. He fights the urge to throw the door open beside him and jump out of the moving carriage, unwilling to see Chrom’s reaction to the almost-kiss. Only the thought of Chrom inevitably finding him and berating him for doing such an outrageous, dangerous thing keeps him in the carriage. Imagining that fury in Chrom’s eyes makes Robin shiver, and he rubs his sweaty palms on his pants.
Robin had spent some time researching how the three types interacted, after he’d learned the basics from a shameless Miriel. He needed to know how the Shepherds would behave around each other - dynamics like this, if left completely unchecked, could break a small intimate militia such as the Shepherds. Strategies were proven or broken by these dynamics every so often. So he knew rather more than was strictly necessary about the interactions between the three types.
He runs his mental notes through his mind to try and calm the heat on his skin. Omegas go into heat, and alphas into rut, anywhere between every few months and once a year. The urge to mate at their most fertile time is said to be overpowering, for alpha and omega alike. Betas do not have heats or ruts, although they can “play” at alpha to omega, or omega to alpha, and do so when need or preference arises.
Robin chances a glance at the back of Chrom’s head, and the rampant thought broadsides him.
I’m attracted to Chrom. I… like him.
He’s never really put it into such concrete words before. Robin finds both genders attractive, but he never allowed himself to indulge in any romantic relations while they were away from Ylisstol. But now, he realizes, he could attempt it.
Robin enjoys Chrom’s presence and company, and Chrom seems to reciprocate that friendship… but Robin just tried to kiss Chrom, and his scent is driving Robin up the wall today. Chrom isn’t due for another rut for months - when he first started directing the Shepherds, Robin had asked Frederick for the cycles of every alpha and omega in the Shepherds, so he knows.
Unbidden, his mind brings up a vivid image of himself on hands and knees, Chrom’s hands in his hair and all over his body, taking Robin again and again until the urge subsides.
The thought of Chrom’s alpha presence in the bedroom, a touch of bare skin combined with that magnetic alpha scent, makes Robin hard, and he shifts uncomfortably on the bench. Throwing himself from the carriage is looking more and more appealing by the moment, and he eyes the door handle.
Before he can go for it, Frederick rides away, and Chrom puts the window back up. He turns back to Robin, an unreadable expression on his face. Robin shifts in his seat again, feeling that weighty stare on his skin. In that instant, he’s not sure if he wants Chrom to mention what almost happened, or if he wants to bury it and never speak of it again.
“Frederick said there will be a Council meeting after dinner. We will be discussing the military, and what sort of force we should maintain now that peace has been gained. I’d like for you to join in on that meeting. I think you can calm them, and your tactics will win them over, much better than I can.”
Robin barely hears the compliments. His heart sinks, not because of the subject matter, but because of what was not said. Chrom wants to forget it, then. He should be relieved that he didn’t just completely destroy their relationship by trying to kiss Chrom, but instead his chest feels heavy.
Robin pulls on a weary smile, appropriate for the thought of a long Council session. “All right, my schedule has been cleared.”
Chrom gives a half-hearted snort at the joke. “I am not looking forward to this meeting.”
“I’ve got some plans,” Robin responds, thinking back to his desk and the work he was doing while recuperating. The books he’d just gotten would come in handy, sooner than he thought. “I’d be glad to present them tonight.”
With a sigh, Chrom leans back against the bench. “Good, I’m glad to hear you’re already on top of this. Shall we go over your ideas before dinner?”
Robin shouldn’t be so pleased with that offer, but he really wants to spend more time with Chrom. “Yes, we can do that.”
He catches the strange, sidelong glance that Chrom gives him when he thinks he isn’t watching, but he’s too afraid to comment on it. He rests his head against the side of the carriage, keeping a large distance between them, and tries not to think about how much he wants to touch the man sitting a few feet away from him.
It is nearly impossible to keep the thoughts away, but he resists the urge.