Robin decides to rejoin Chrom

Robin decided the prudent course of action was to ensure Chrom stayed in the fight. After all, even if she defeated the Impostor, a head-to-head battle against Lucina alone could prove difficult. Even if she could win, she might not be able to do it without unintentionally embarrassing Lucina, and even if this Lucina saw her as an enemy, Robin would rather not tarnish the memory of her friend.

Unfortunately, when she turned her attention to Chrom, she saw it was probably too late for tactics. Chrom and Lucina were both teetering on the edge of the arena, their crossed Falchions resonating. Robin knew how dangerous this situation was: for all of the strengths he had, she had never seen Chrom get the hang of making his way back onto the stage when a foe managed to get him off, despite all of their training. “Hold on, Chrom! I’m coming!”

“I believe in you Robin!” Chrom shouted back, grinning in spite of his dire situation. “I believe in you… so, knock this fake out of here! And Lucina… forgive me, but I’m ending this quickly! Get out of my way!” With a sudden break, Chrom disarmed Lucina by forcing his sword upward. The Parallel Falchion rang through the air, its trajectory dooming it to fall over the edge. Lucina turned to grab it, even if it meant she’d be hanging on the edge with it. Seeing that opening, Chrom whirled his sword around and brought it up again with new momentum, carefully catching Lucina’s cape (and just her cape) to drive his upward in a sword uppercut that left them both suspended in the air out of arm’s reach. Gritting his teeth, Chrom turned in midair and delivered a devastating blow to Lucina, driving both of them into the abyss.

In spite of Chrom’s best efforts, Robin saw tatters of Lucina’s lordly garment fluttering through the air. He’d succeeded, though: there was no trace of Lucina left for anyone to ogle. “Chrom…” Robin murmured, clutching her hand to her chest. Even if it was a different Lucina, that must have been hard to do. “Well, then, the only thing left-“

Robin started this thought before whirling around, too late to stop the roar of electricity she now heard behind her. The bolt her possum-playing opponent had launched tore into her clothing, paralyzing her and carrying her backward with the impact. Robin watched in horror as her waist cloth was rapidly torn to shreds, dispersing like a confetti shower as she was pushed to the edge of the arena. It didn’t stop there: the attack mercilessly blackened her underclothes, starting with the belly of her shirt and the waist of her breeches. She just barely managed to stop herself at the edge of the arena, feeling the cool air of the pit behind her rise up her back and, concerningly, also feeling it on her now exposed stomach.

In the aftermath of the damage, she was left with her hanging coat sleeves, her undershirt looking more like a distressed tube top, her pants looking more like chaps. Without a belt, the form of the pants was mostly held from where they were tucked into her high black boots. She felt the seat sagging, but that wasn’t the worst part: her panties, a dark purple pair with unnecessarily fancy gold embroidery to match her coat, were now on full display from the front. “You scoundrel!” she shouted at her tormentor, holding her tome to cover her underwear impulsively.

Though he’d gotten a nice attack off, the Impostor looked worse for the wear, standing on shaky legs as he still held his hand forward from his strike. “H-how’s that? I told you I knew how this would end. Are you ready to s-s-surrender?”

Robin considered her options. In a way, she was glad that Chrom wasn’t here to see her like this; that said, it didn’t make her fight any easier, and she definitely hadn’t expected to be showing this underwear to a creepy lookalike trying to humiliate her. Could she really fight in this condition? If only there was some way to get a decisive edge…