The Sixteen-Year Crush
Inigo had always had a crush on her—the adult woman with dark, voluminous long hair that was tied up in a messy ponytail; and, dark oval-shaped eyes that were always calculating and, to an extent, judging. Robin, who was technically twenty years his senior. In his future, she was kind, caring, and unmarried—definitely unmarried, now that he thought of it.
However, in this time period, she was two years his senior and he was an adult—not a child with the disease known as puppy love. The baby fat and plump cheeks had defined itself into something masculine, as well as his voice. He was, in his mind, an adult—someone who should be taken seriously. Although, it seemed she still saw him as a child—the child of a dear friend, that was. It does no help when his mother treated him so.
He approached her daily with flattery and useless gifts—such as jewelry, the ones found on the smaller stalls, which really had no place in war—and she would merely brush him off, sighing in annoyance. She would ignore him until his pestering was enough to break her tolerance and patience. Inigo found pleasure, however sadistic, in her frustration. Though recently, he wondered if it was this particular characteristic of his that proved his immaturity.
Like every other night, he sought her form. In the distance he saw her walking figure and swishing cloak. A heavy-looking book occupied her attention as she headed for her tent—the one he currently stood next to. He cleared his throat and greeted her when she was close, "Good evening, Robin. You look as ravishing as usual."
Her response was tepid and unfocused as she mumbled a greeting in return. She then glanced up in order to confirm the owner of the voice, though there was no need. Inigo had been at her tent for over a week, his sonorous voice greeting her for the past ten evenings.
She cuts straight to the point: "What is it, Inigo?" Today had been tiring for the tactician—routing out paths, strategizing, organizing the equipment, and keeping track of any financial issues—and she was too worn to deal with any of his antics.
"I've a gift for you," he reached into his pocket, "A vulnerary. A small gift, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless." He handed the small vial to her, his fingers reaching forward to brush against the side of her hand.
Despite her foul mood, she smiled. "Thank you, Inigo. This is awfully kind of you…" she trailed off. She eyed the small potion suspiciously. "This isn't one of your little tricks to make me fall for you, is it?"
"What—of course not. I bought one for everyone in the army—including the men," he feigned hurt, as if her words stung, though they did to an extent.
Her expression softened into an apologetic one, and she smiled sheepishly. "I'm sorry, Inigo. I had thought you were trying to woo the women of the army again."
"I don't need such items to sway the heart of others," he boasted. She rolled her eyes, resisting the temptation to comment on his ego. Instead, she said, "Still, you must have spent quite a bit of gold. This army isn't as small as it was before, you know."
"Well, I'm sure the boosted morale helps," he replied. His thinking surprised Robin; after all, his carefree and flirtatious attitude gave off the impression he thought little of the war they are in.
"Surprised?" he asked. She began to apologize, thinking she had offended him. Regardless of his personality, he had also dealt with the horrible realities of war. He laughed good-naturedly, waving her off. "No need for apologies. It doesn't suit a beautiful lady as you."
"Thanks for being so good-natured, Inigo," she replied, embarrassed. She then reached for the edges of her cloak and brought it closer to herself. She shivered as a cold wind passed. Inigo, reaching over, swiftly pulled the hood of her coat over her head, covering the top of her face. He chuckled as she began to fumble with it, fuming. His grip on it remained strong.
He peered into the shadows on her face, smiling slightly. Intaking a small breath, he gathered his courage and said, "You really do look beautiful, Robin." Startled by his tone of voice, she stopped her struggle and stared back at him. Her breath hitched slightly and she wondered if his words were another one of his cliché one-liners.
"Well," he suddenly said, letting loose of her hood. "It's getting late and I should get going. Good night, Robin." He walked off before she can reply; his face warm and tinted red.
For once, Robin saw the silhouette of Inigo—not the shadow of a dancer's son.
Although I am a fan of FE!RobinxChrom, I also love Inigo (and Owain). If I were to have my avatar marry anyone in the second generation, it would probably be Inigo. I always feel weird marrying second generation though, because technically the avatar is much older than the children in the future.
I plan to make this a series of one-shots involving FE!RobinxInigo.
Reviews/critiques/favorites are always appreciated!
As of Mar. 8, 2014: I re-read the chapter and fixed any mistakes, as well as switching from present tense to past. Hopefully the chapter is still a smooth read for you guys.