#validad

“Where have you been all evening!?”

On any other day, Robin might have flinched at such a sharp greeting from his father.  But tonight he only smiled, holding his gift just a bit closer to his chest.  “I was out with some friends.”

“So you did make some new friends tonight,” his mother smiled from her place by the table.  “I did tell him where you were, by the way.”

“And I asked what you were thinking, sending him out like that without a guard, what if he’d been attacked again--”

“If anyone had dared to try anything, I get the feeling that charming prince would have swiftly intervened,” she replied, winking at her son while her husband tried to decide which of them to focus his frustration on.  “Did you have a nice time?”

“It was lovely,” Robin beamed, taking the seat beside her as she made room for him.  “They were performing the Ballad of Rana and Letu tonight, and we must have spent at least an hour in one of the scroll shops -- Sumia loves adventure tales as much as I do, and I know I lost all track of time until Chrom came to remind us about dinner.  And we explored the market a bit -- I helped Chrom pick out and purchase some gifts for his sisters…”

“And something for yourself?” she ventured knowingly, gesturing to the dragon he still held close to his heart. 

Robin felt his face begin to warm.  “...a gift,” he mumbled shyly.  “From Chrom.”

“It seems a bit late to be reciprocating what was given at the border,” his father muttered. 

He saw his mother roll her eyes, taking up a cup from the table and holding it out to him; as he took it, she left her hand out, and he placed the dragon in her palm.  “Oh, how lovely -- for your scrolls?”

“That’s why he picked it,” Robin nodded.  “He saw similar ones in my room.  And it seems like I can never have enough of them.”

“I don’t suppose this one will be given special treatment?” she teased. 

“Maman,” he laughed, gently warming the tepid draught with a soft flame before throwing it back (and once again wincing at the taste; necessary or not, the bitterness was hardly welcome). 

“Well, it was a gift,” she pointed out, “and I know how you feel about putting gifts to their best use.  ...so tell me, Little Bird: do you regret taking my advice and going out for the evening?”

I shouldn’t be allowed to be able to hold a pen anymore, what have I done pff--

Validad has.  So many regrets.

Teaching Robin Warp

Teaching Robin the art of tactical misdirection

Teaching Robin magic

...honestly most of the things Validad has taught Robin come back to bite him in the ass

Not that Wren's been a better influence (arguably she’s been worse), so letting her teach him all of her tricks

Look Validad regrets many things

“It’s alright, my Little Bird,” his mother whispered, leaning her forehead against his.  “It’s going to be alright, I promise, I’m right here…”

“I-it hurts,” he winced, twisting his hands in his tattered robes. 

“I know -- oh, my sweet heart, I know it hurts, just give the medicine time…”

His father swept through the curtains while his mother laid out her tools, a storm of black and gold in the light of Henry’s flame.  “How bad is it?” he asked tightly. 

“I have no inkling yet,” she replied, her voice equally taut.  “I haven’t even seen it: that’s what we’re working toward now.”

As his senses began to dull, leaving the pain muted (though not gone, not entirely), Robin sagged against Henry’s shoulder, struggling just to keep his head from lolling onto his chest.  At some silent signal, Tharja set to work, unfastening and removing every piece of jewelry without so much as jarring the young sovereign from where he slumped awkwardly against Henry’s shoulder.  How she did it so fast and so well remained a mystery to him -- but one he was undeniably grateful for. 

The ceremonial robe was a different matter, and Robin bit his lip when his mother took hold of the collar and pushed it down off his shoulders.  The sleeves were manageable enough, but the shredded fabric held fast to the wound itself until she began to tease it free, inch by inch, and in spite of his best efforts he could not tamp down the whimper as it upset the ragged wound. 

“This wouldn’t have happened if you just let him wear the coat,” she muttered. 

“This wasn’t supposed to happen at all,” his father hissed, gently covering one of Robin’s hands with his own.

“But I told you the ceremonial robes are nonsense -- they can’t protect him, they’ve only ever been for spectacle.  Why couldn’t you just let him wear the coat, he likes it better and you know what it is--”

“It wasn’t my decision!” his father protested.  “The Order made that decision in my father’s day, and even as hierophant I cannot overrule their majority.”

They were silent for a moment, and Robin did everything in his power to keep from breaking it.  He only rarely heard his parents argue, and hearing them now fighting over this -- over what had happened to him…

The hierophant sighed, squeezing his son’s hand gently.  “I would have preferred the coat, myself,” he admitted. 

“Why was the prince of Ylisse in our living room.”

Robin heard no question in his father’s words, but really, that hardly surprised him.  “He asked to come,” he shrugged.  “I saw no reason to oppose.”

“How much did he see?” the man demanded. 

“Only the living space,” Tharja confirmed.  “I barred him from Robin’s quarters.”

“Small favors, I suppose,” his father muttered, “but you really should take more care.”

“I am,” he smiled.  “But he shows interest.  He wishes to learn.  It seems ill-advised to refuse him when there is no harm in welcome.”

The man drew a breath...but before he could speak, the curtains flew open, a blur of white and tan flying across the common room and dragging Robin down into a tight embrace.  “There you are!  How’s my little bird today?”

“Nervous,” he chuckled, hugging his mother tight.  

“Why do I suspect this is your fault,” his father huffed. 

She drew back just enough to feign surprise.  “Oh, dear.  What did I do now?”

“Your son--”

“I notice he’s always my son when he does something that troubles you,” she pointed out.

“--invited the prince of Ylisse to our rooms--”

She gasped in very real distress.  “I missed him!?”

“By just a few minutes,” Robin confirmed. 

“Curse my luck,” she muttered, fussing with the lay of Robin’s ceremonial robes.  “I do hope I’ll be able to meet him before he returns home…”  And in a softer voice, low enough that only her son could hear, “have you invited him to dinner yet?”

“Not yet,” he confirmed shyly.  “Though we did talk about you a bit this afternoon.”

“Oh, did you,” she grinned.  “That certainly seems like good progress.  Perhaps we can arrange a meeting soon, then -- and I promise to try no to embarrass you too much in front of him.”

“Maman!” Robin laughed. 

“What are you two conspiring about now?” his father demanded. 

WHO DOESN’T NEED VALIDAD

Validar is one of those people who has a very intimidating presence and appearance.  The public sees him as a severe man and has an expectation of him that he precisely upholds every tenet of the Grimleal religion, an impression upheld by his very precise execution of ritual.  In reality, though, that’s just how Validar is as a person: he tends to be a little uptight and holds himself to an extremely high standard (old habits die hard).  Those within the faith who have close contact with him see a hard-line adherent, dedicated to the safety of Grima’s heart and the cultivation of his powers; this is more of a facade than his public persona, though, because Validar recognizes the danger that the upper echelons could pose to his child, and defends Robin primarily by making them believe he agrees with them and enacts their will behind closed doors.  His wife and son, though, know the truth of him: regardless of how he may appear, he is a very careful man, who tries to be considerate (and sometimes fails, but apologizes when he does and seeks to avoid repeating it) and who is secretly quite doting , if in somewhat catlike ways. 

He doesn’t personally make the sweets and other treats that he carries around for Robin (and later Henry), mostly because he never managed to get the hang of cooking; Wren is a far better hand at that, but he’ll often help out in the kitchen while she works, and gets quite adept at controlling the heat of the flames so that everything turns out perfectly whether it’s over an open fire or a closed oven.  Though he’s not exactly a playful nor spontaneous man (control is something he finds difficult to release), he quite enjoys his wife’s singing, and will sometimes draw her into a dance while she does; once Robin’s a bit older, Validar starts teaching him the steps to Wren’s vocal accompaniment.  He also reads a lot, and after Robin is born he starts reading aloud from whatever book he’s working on (it takes Wren a while to coax him to read out of kids’ books, and when she’s not around he still pulls out the monster tomes -- Robin has a ridiculous vocabulary at an early age, and Wren knows exactly who to blame for that).