Lucina’s sudden shove caught her mother completely by surprise. She stumbled back, a few steps away from her daughter, and took a moment to regain her footing. In that time she saw Lucina reach for her Kiran’s cloak, saw her glowing eye and saw her draw the lance, and in a terrible moment of insight saw exactly what was going to happen.<br/><br/>“Lucina! NO!”<br/><br/>The tactician cried out, reached a desperate hand towards her daughter… but she’d stepped too far away. She could do nothing but watch, helplessly, as Lucina plunged the lance into her own eye. She screamed as her daughter did, tried to reach her again, but was forced back by a burst of air as the rift opened above and began to spill forth random objects.<br/><br/>And then it was closed, as suddenly as it had opened, and Lucina came to her; staggered forward, pressed something into her arms and collapsed against her. It was all Robin could do to stay upright, wrapping one comforting arm around her daughter as she held Chrom’s urn tucked in the other. “I don’t know...” She muttered, stunned and trembling herself, holding back tears. “It… it doesn’t matter. Oh, Lucina... what have you done?”<br/><br/>The other Robin was there. Her hand grazed against his as he took Lucina, and for a moment she met his eyes, pleading, grateful. He was saying something, trying to be practical. She should be doing the same, but she could barely even process what he was saying. Fjorm stepped up with her staff once more, and Robin stepped aside to make room. She looked on as her daughter began to heal, concern painted across her face. Why hadn’t she ever taken the time to learn healing arts herself?<br/><br/>Kiran’s cry of pain, at last, jolted Robin back into action. She looked to the summoner for a moment, nodded her understanding, and then looked back to Lucina. The tactician was loath to leave her now, but Kiran had asked for a reason; she was the only one who could go. She bit her lip as she hesitated for a moment, hard enough to draw blood. “I’ll return,” she promised, her voice weak. “Forgive me.”<br/><br/>Then Robin turned her back, and ran for the stables. She could feel her tears preparing to make their return, and she scrunched her eyes closed and willed them to stay back. She wasn’t running, she told herself; she was the<i>only </i>one who could do this. She<i>had </i>to go.<br/><br/>When she reached the stables, she paused only long enough to place Chrom’s urn down, carefully, on the table by her crumpled and abandoned tunic. Then she went straight to the pegasus the other Robin had startled, not bothering to fetch reins or a saddle, and rode her, bareback, out from the stables and up, away, into the sky.