EvanescentBlue: This is just an idea that bit me while I was working on another Morgan-centric fic that should be up sooner or later. This isn't a chaptered story, just a collection of oneshots about a little paradox named Morgan, but there may be some stories with multiple parts and sequels.

In every story I'll be using the Avatar's default Japanese name, Rufure, because I feel it fits them better than Robin.

[Insert Disclaimer Here]

Morgan yelped and scrambled away from a pillar just as it collapsed under the weight of an undead wyvern. His sword was of no use against such a foe; he sheathed it and grabbed the tome from his bag. A blast of thunder later the wyvern and its rider lay twitching on the ground while Morgan backed out of the room and quickly ran in a random direction, searching for a safe place to lay low. He could hear the sounds of a fierce battle echoing through the ruins along with human yells and the distinctive moans of Risen - he was confident enough in his skills but rushing headlong into battle was never a good idea, especially when he didn't know who was fighting. He also needed to figure out exactly where he was - last he remembered, he'd been on a research trip in the ruins with his mother. The ruins they'd gone to looked nothing like the ruins he was in now, though - for one they hadn't been infested with Risen.

No, this was no time for him to jump into battle no matter how much he wanted to help. Either his mother had ended up here as well, in which case he needed to find her, or she was still back at the other ruins, in which case he needed to find a way back. He wasn't too worried about her safety - she had him thoroughly beat in swordplay, magic, and strategy - but she was probably worried sick and he didn't like worrying other people. Not to mention the fact that a worried Rufure often meant a guilt-inducing lecture for anyone she was worried about. Rufure was very good at making people feel guilty.

Morgan ducked behind another pillar - surreptitiously checking for any wyvern riders as he did so - at the sound of footsteps rapidly approaching his position. Quickly he assessed his options - the only exit was in the direction of the footsteps so he'll have to fight no matter what. Using magic was preferable seeing as he was better at magic than he was with a sword, but the ceiling of this room didn't look very stable and casting Thunder might bring the whole thing down.

The footsteps entered the room, accompanied by the sound of voices. Morgan relaxed slightly - these were humans, not Risen. Of course, just because they were humans didn't mean they'd be friendly but at least he could talk to and maybe negotiate with them - if he helped them fight perhaps they'd be willing to help him find a way home, or at least tell him where he was. Morgan hastily rearranged his coat so that it obscured his sword as much as possible and stuck his tome in his pocket where he could reach it at a moment's notice. Then he stepped out from behind the pillar and went to confront the strangers.

He promptly forgot about his plan of action at the sight of a very familiar person.

"There you are, Mother! I was beginning to think we got separated!"

The small group of people turned towards him. Most of them looked curious; others looked strangely hopeful. Morgan, however, only had eyes for one of them.

He stopped about a foot away and blinked. He rubbed his eyes and looked his mother up and down. He was certain this was his mother, but...

"Mother, why are you a man?"

Rufure stared at the boy sitting on the other side of the table. There was no doubt Morgan was Rufure's son - they had the same eyes, the same habit of gesturing with one hand when speaking, similar fighting styles involving both sword and tome, the exact same coat - but...well, at the same time he wasn't. Although Morgan couldn't remember much he was certain that Rufure had been his mother. Not his father.

Morgan was from a different timeline than the other time travelers, that much was certain, and really, how much did they know about time travel and alternate timelines in the first place? It was completely possible that there was a female version of Rufure somewhere out there, who'd married a man and gotten pregnant and given birth to the cheerful kid sitting in front of him today.

He dropped his head onto the table.

"Are you alright, Mother?" Morgan's voice asked from somewhere above him. In the background he could hear Lissa's poorly concealed snort of laughter and a strangely distorted cough from Chrom.

"I'm fine," he said weakly. "Sorry, it's just a lot to take in." He lifted his head and half-heartedly glared at Chrom, who had an admirably straight face, and Lissa, who was standing by the tent flap and kept glancing outside as though she couldn't wait to share the news. It was probably going to be all over camp by evening.

"Anyway!" Rufure decided to get back to business before he could dwell too much on that. "Frederick is setting up your tent and getting you some basic supplies. You already have a sword and a tome but we have a lot of extras so you should drop by the supply tent later to see if there's anything you like. Dinner's in four hours so you can go ahead and explore the camp. I'll give you a tour once I'm done with these records."

"Yes ma'am...um, yessir!" Morgan grinned sheepishly at his slip and jumped up. "So I'll see you later, then?" he said hopefully.

"I should be done in an hour or so." Rufure grinned back even as he felt his face begin to redden in embarrassment - Morgan's smile was oddly contagious. "I actually got a new strategy book the other day but never had a chance to read it. Do you want to look at it with me?"

Morgan's eyes lit up. "Definitely!"

Chrom waited until after Morgan left before bringing up the elephant in the room.

"I wonder who is Morgan's father?"