Helpless Saviour

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Original prompt: Glass of Water

Chrom wasn't always certain who got more of a shock when Robin woke up from a nightmare.

She had a habit of forgetting where she was when she first opened her eyes. Her body would jerk, trying to tear free of both him and the blankets. If she hadn't already been sobbing in her sleep or woken him with a blood-curdling scream, he might find himself being kicked into consciousness. There had been more than one occasion when he had bolted upright just as quickly as his wife, convinced that someone was trying to attack him.

Then he would see her, trembling like a leaf, and his fear would escalate for a different reason. Nothing about Robin's nightmares had gotten worse – in fact, they were less frequent now the country was at peace. But the migraines that came with them weren't normal, and he always worried about what was happening inside her head.

Some nights, she recovered quickly. She would wake with only a few trembling sobs and be almost calm by the time Chrom got his arms around her. On those nights, her headaches would fade away unaided. She would beg him not to get a healer and just ask for a glass of water instead. He would fetch it – because what else could he do? – and help her drink until she was sated. Then he would rub soothing patterns into her back, quashing his own unease until she was asleep. 

Those were the best of the bad nights.

But the best nights of all were the ones without nightmares. The ones when they both slept peacefully, undisturbed by head injuries or fear. The ones when Chrom could wrap his arms around Robin, pull her close, and pretend that he could protect her from everything.

He could block a sword, take an arrow, cushion a fall, or patch a wound.

But he couldn't save her from herself.

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