Chrom ignored the soft exclamation of pain, tightening the bandages and scowling. He deserved it - jumping in front of that Risen, when Chrom was perfectly capable of fending for himself, and when he was already injured.
“If you keep tightening it,” his companion teased, “I’m going to lose the arm anyway.”
“Don’t-” Chrom said vehemently. “Don’t you dare.”
A startled pause, before there was a sigh. “I’m sorry Chrom. I won’t joke about that.”
Chrom looked up, dark eyes meeting his own. “I don’t need my tactician dying because he thinks I’m more important than he is.” He didn’t need his friend dying - this far into the war, there were so few of his advisors left. Only Frederick and Robin were left, all of Emmeryn’s circle had long since been killed by Plegian assassins, and Chrom hadn’t replaced them, even if Maribelle had somehow bullied her way into an unofficial role.
The core group of the Shepherds was still there, of course, but there was a distance there, now that he was Exalt that sometimes couldn’t be breached. And Olivia… Chrom couldn’t help the smile at the thought of his wife, six months pregnant with their second child, and safely back at the capital with as many of the Shepherds as he could spare. Basillio had wanted him to send her to Regina Ferox until the birth, but that window had come and gone, now that her Dancing was compromised.
“You are more important than me,” Robin refuted, ignoring his protests. “Chrom, you are . I can give you tactics, but you’re the one that inspires, that leads. Without you, we’d have fallen apart months ago.”
“Well, I can’t stay alive if my tactician decides to throw himself into a pile of Risen,” Chrom said gruffly, grabbing the sling and settling his friend’s arm in it to his satisfaction. “Don’t do that again. That’s an order from your Exalt.”
Robin laughed. “I’ll follow it just as well as I follow your other orders,” he promised, standing and slinging his ever present cloak over his shoulders. His expression turned serious, “I think,” he said, “that I know a way we can win this war. Just give me some more time.”
“Whatever you need,” Chrom promised, feeling lighter already. Robin had never failed to deliver - Chrom would just need to be patient.