Ahoyhoy. I need to stop committing to so many stories. This one is for Milaya Milen Zeal, because she asked really nicely and it was a super-cute prompt. More chapters planned. Like, at least one more? This one is a bit short, but I didn't really see how I could expand on it further. I'm sure I'll think of something though!

Unbeta'd, as per usual.

"Aha! Your paltry tricks are of no consequence, my friendly foe! Though cunning you may be I have the eyes of a hawk and reflexes to match! Defend yourself like a true hero or you shall feel the true edge of my blade!"

"I would never sully my honour with such vile, underhanded acts! If you are the hero you protest to be my magic should be of no consequence! Tremble as I strike from all sides like a swarm of - of grumpy bees!"

"Argh, the ancient Thousand Vengeful Wasps Technique!"

Morgan lowered his voice to an almost inaudible level. "Oh, right – thanks, Owain."

"Anytime, buddy." Owain cleared his throat and returned to character with a flourish of his practice sword. "Your skills are admirable, my companionable rival, the rumours of your arcane mastery ring true, as the masses have whispered for many years! I have long sought an ally-versary as potent and, uh, awesome as ye, who faces me with mettle unparalleled by any conqueror you care to name."

Morgan spun lightly on one foot and struck a valiant pose, a convenient wind breezing through to ruffle the pages of his tome. He executed a clumsy tumble to the left, had a hairy moment wherein he entangled himself in his own coat before he was able to resume his former noble stance. "I feel our hearts beat in unison, as they have from the very first day we met, but there can only be one victor from this decisive battle! Volcanic…CRAAAAASSSH!"

Owain double-flipped back from the paltry puff Morgan flicked his way – he had far more practice than Morgan at his theatrical poses and stuck his landing straight into No. 32 Swashbuckling Poet. "A marvelous strike, but my heart guides my feet and you shall never preva – arghh!" Owain threw up his sword just in time to block a second fireball. "Zounds, that was fast! I think I lost my eyebrows!"

Morgan lowered his tome slightly, his eager enjoyment melting away into worry. "Are – are you okay…?"

Owain rallied magnificently, spinning his sword like a baton. "Your aim is true, fiend, yet I shall not be felled so easily! Your simple power from the earth cannot match my command of the heavens!" He adjusted his angle of his sword so it caught the sun, throwing a weak beam of light over Morgan's face. Morgan blinked for a couple of seconds until a meaningful cough from Owain roused him to his duty. Morgan gasped, dropped his tome and staggered backwards, his arms thrown across his face.

"Yea, tremble before the might of the gods! Solar…EXAAAALTATION!"

"Noooo!"

"Yeeees!"

"It can't be, this can't be the end!"

"I never picked you for a peeping tom," someone murmured right in her ear. Robin jumped back instinctively and straight into Libra, knocking the breath out of her husband. They both collapsed to the ground, his arms wrapping around her instinctively to break her fall. They both lay there for a moment, a little stunned.

"I was…sleepwalking?" was her weak offer. Libra angled his head to show her just how unimpressed he was.

"I'm beginning to understand where Morgan got his flair for the dramatic," he muttered, taking his time easing back up. Robin tried to roll away to allow him better manoeuvrability only to be hugged even tighter. Not for the first time since her wedding day Robin rolled her eyes, smiling.

"Definitely you," she said. "Anyone else it would be me, but Morgan definitely got that particular thing from you."

Libra beamed blissfully. It was something she had seen him do a lot over the past few days, and always when Morgan was the subject. "I don't know, he inherited enough from me," he said amiably, finally lifting her from his lap so he could pull them both up.

"Like what?" It came out a little more competitive than she intended it to.

Libra looked thoughtful, whimsically chewing his lower lip. "Well, aside from my hair colour?"

"He wears it well," conceded Robin, glancing back out to her future son. His duel with Owain had ended, the two now bent in quiet and earnest conversation, comparing moves for their next round. Robin and Libra remained where they were, concealed in their shadowy nook by several large supply crates. "It's got the same texture as well. Of course, it brings out his charming brown eyes. Rather like mine, I notice."

"They are quite like yours," Libra followed her gaze. "Though his nose and jaw are a closer approximation to my own."

"Very Plegian nose," Robin countered, then cringed a little. The subject of her bloodline was still a potentially touchy issue. Libra didn't seem to take notice, still watching their son with a proprietary air. "That is, I think he takes after me in that respect. Also, his cheekbones are similar to mine." She would have conceded cheekbone territory to Libra. His cheekbones could bring a nation to its knees and she had briefly toyed with the idea of proposing them as Plan B against Walhart. Just to see his face.

"He's slender, like you, Robin."

"His musculature is more like your own. You can tell he's been wielding axes by his hands, good callouses. Staves too, by the pale backwash on his knuckles."

Libra noted that as well with a slight air of disapproval. That amount of stave backwash meant a lot of healing magic was being wasted. "A magic wielder in general," he commented. "He holds that tome like an expert and his pronunciation is exceptional. I worry about his control, he's got a few burn marks up near his elbows."

"It comes to us all in time." The two boys laughed at something they couldn't hear. "He reads late at night, he's so driven. I don't think I'll have much left to teach him before long."

"I did a check on his eyesight yesterday." Seeing the rising panic on her face Libra hastened to reassure her. "Nothing to worry about yet. But he reads in such dim light, he may end up needing spectacles if he keeps it up."

"I'll get him an oil lamp," Robin resolved, crossing her arms across her chest and sparing her husband a glance. "Is he getting along with the others? No issues?"

"He's very well-liked; helpful; shows an interest in everything," Libra reported. He nudged her. "Sounds like someone I know. You spoke the truth when you said he inherited your nature."

"He's got a real gentleness to him, though." Robin gazed at Morgan. "That's what I love seeing, the little touches of you in his behaviour. Panne had a run of bad luck in our last skirmish, did you know?"

"No, I didn't. How does she fare?" She had looked fine the last Libra had seen her, though now he came to think of it she had seemed a little taut. Robin had a point to follow through on, though, so he saved his questions.

"She's fine, but Virion took a couple of nasty hits for her. He was out cold when they brought him back, and Tharja tried to curse her fur blue. Morgan went out with Panne to help collect herbs and keep her company. He was out there for hours, just talking and making her smile, soaking up all the little tidbits she shares. Hours, in that weather!" Robin shook her head in disbelief. "He was nearly blue himself when he came back!"

"Foolhardy and dangerous to his wellbeing - is that what reminded you?" Libra's tone was teasing and she smiled in turn.

"That too. But really, it…seemed like something you'd do. He sat with Noire, too. Helped her clean her weapons and fetched tea until Virion woke up. Used Panne's herbs for the tea and Virion's poultices." Robin bit her lip. "He's a real peacekeeper. Future us did a stellar job of raising him."

"Is that why you haven't spoken to him since the first day?" His question was gentle but Robin cringed as though she had been struck. "He looks for you at meals, and he's always asking me where you are. You should talk to him, even just a little."

Robin slouched, her crossed arms tightening to a protective hug. "It's not been that long, Libra."

"He's been with us a week, Robin." Libra tried to catch her eye but Robin edged away, eyes fixed on her shoes. She had never been this closed off before, and it worried him.

"Sit down with me, please." She rarely denied one of his requests. They settled back against the crates, Robin seated as close as se possibly could without touching him directly. It was so out of character for her it made cold sweat prickle down Libra's back.

"Do you…are you frightened, of having a child?" Libra asked as gently as he could. Robin shrugged a little mulishly.

"A little," she admitted, her voice hesitant and a little ashamed. "I've never had a child. As far as I know."

Oh. There was the problem.

Libra reached out slowly, gathering up her hands in his and lacing together their fingers. "You will make a fine mother, Robin. You care for the whole camp like a mother and you have a house full of children waiting at home. Karin alone would give anything to take your house name."

"But I don't have a house name," whispered Robin tightly, her fingers closing into a vice grip. "I have the one Chrom gave me, but…" The royal Ylissean tactician needed her own house, for her legacy and name to carry on. She had been given an Ylissean surname, given a coat of arms and a family tree with herself at the head. As a priest from commoner origins, Libra had joined her house when they married. "It doesn't feel like mine. I have a Plegian name somewhere that I can't remember – it's lost to me."

"Would you want it even if you did?" Libra asked. Robin shrugged.

"I don't think so. It's not really about the name, I –" She rubbed her forehead; Robin looked tired, like she had been staying up into the wee hours again researching her tactics. "I mean, if I really cared to find out I would just need to find out Validar's house name."

"Let's solemnly vow never to do that," her husband suggested immediately. It made her laugh, which was a huge development as far as Libra was concerned.

"I just…feel like there's something important I forgot." Robin's gaze drifted to his face. "I have you, wonderful you, and this young man who looks at me like – like he knows exactly who I am. Better than I know myself. And here's me, feeling three years old and meant to be a mother at some point. Soon."

She ran her thumb over her lower lip – a sure sign she was getting to the crux of the matter. "I just…where's my mother? Why was I alone out there? Did she pass already – could that…?" Libra caught on just as her voice died.

Her grasp her shoulders gently, his heart fluttering denial against the thought hatching deep and dark between them. It was something he feared, prayed against, every night. "You will not die. You will live. For a very long time, with me and a thousand children, if you wanted that many." Her eyes softened. "But please not a thousand. For your poor husband's sake."

She smiled again; her eyes were too big, too wet. "I don't want to leave him alone. At least he has a mother for now. He has that."

He couldn't help himself then. He drew her in tight, hands pressed to the small of her back. At this angle he had a clear view of the training ground, where -

"Look at that," Libra whispered, his eyes huge. Robin turned her attention back to the boys…and was scarcely able to contain her gasp.

Morgan was happily packing up his practice weapons, chatting idly the whole time. It was unclear whether Owain was listening to his words, but he was certainly paying attention to Morgan. With his back turned Morgan was unable to see the high points of red on Owain's cheeks, or the slightly parted lips. He couldn't see the starry softness to Owain's eyes, or the way his body seemed pulled towards Morgan even though he was standing still a few feet back.

But Libra and Robin could. A brief scuffle broke out between them as they both lunged for the prime peeping spot, but in the end Robin won out, Libra's head wedged under her chin as best he could.

"His breathing is shallow, Libra."

"His palms are sweating. He'll drop that sword if he's not careful."

"I read about this once."

"Really, in what?"

"A novel of Cordelia's, 'A Wyvern Rider for Gordana'. The heroine was afflicted with similar symptoms for much of the book."

"What ailment does she – oh. Very clever, Robin."

"Do you think it could be just an infatuation?"

"It could be. Owain doesn't have many close friends from what I see, he may be having a powerful reaction to a new form of intimacy in his life."

"Could be. Or maybe there's a courtship in the future."

"Robin, Ylisse does not permit such relationships between…"

"Yes?"

"Between those of the same gender." He was a little surprised that she didn't know that, especially considering the…scandal that occurred slightly before their wedding. Admittedly of a different nature but Robin had been curiously attuned to those issues since then.

"Ohhhh." Robin withdrew so suddenly Libra was unbalanced. She began to wildly pace the tiny space – since it was only three feet wide Libra could see her getting very dizzy very shortly. "I am torn between my parenting desire to meddle and my parenting desire to screw over a country so my child can have what he wants!"

"Robin, you can't bring a country to its knees just because you disagree with its legislation," Libra sighed, holding out his arms patiently just as the vertigo overtook his wife and she staggered right into him. He caught her safely, easily, though her mind was still obviously pacing a mile a minute.

Fanning herself, Robin glared up. "Could. Can. Will. I notice that people didn't mind when I smushed Plegia into a thousand pieces over their religion, but as soon as Ylisse needs a shakedown I'm suddenly taking it a step over the line."

"I'm always there for you, no matter how far over that horizon you are," Libra reminded her quietly. The steam suddenly left Robin and she deflated against him. "But you need to fight one battle at a time. All of this won't matter a whit if we can't hold off Valm and prevent Grima's arrival."

"You're right," she said grimly. "Guess we'd better get the easy stuff out of the way." Libra eyed her warily but she didn't crack a smile.

He glanced hopefully at the future progeny and was rewarded with a distraction. "They've gone," he informed Robin, who immediately dashed over to peep out.

"Morgan's gone? With Owain?" she hissed. She had evidently found another fatty bit of the matter to chew over. "He better not get handsy! Unless Morgan wants him to get handsy! Does Morgan know anything about consent? Libra did our future selves talk to him about babies?" Libra mentally bridged the gap.

"I'm sure he knows of their existence." Robin thumped her head against the crates, groaning softly. "And I'm certain that you would be diligent enough to inform him."

Robin levelled a scowl at him. "I feel like you're not taking this as seriously as I need you to, Libra." Her head snapped to the empty training grounds. "I need to find Morgan."

An opening! "Yes, go and find Morgan!" Libra prompted, trying not to sound too eager. "Future Robin may not have taught him how to break an unwanted hold." Doubtful. It was probably one of the first things future Robin taught him. But his Robin, his now Robin, clearly had her mind made up already.

"Right! Good thinking!" Robin tore out from her hiding place, coat flapping out behind her like wings. She paused before ducking between the posts which acted as the training perimeter, half turning towards her husband. He was patiently straightening out the practice weapons, checking the blade and pommel of each sword, stave and axe. "Hey, Libra?"

He turned his attention to her, his head lightly tilted, halfway through checking an axe for nicks. "Yes, Robin?"

"Thanks. And…I love you." His face blossomed into a cotton-soft smile, glowing with a fire Robin had been surprised to learn she had ignited many months ago. It was one of her favourites; although she could not change his childhood, erase his fears or soothe his sadness, his smile shone bright enough to overcome all that, even temporarily.

"I love you too, my darling." Something smouldered in his gaze and a delightful tingle quivered down Robin's spine. She privately decided they would have an early night. "Go find our son."

Next chapter at least contains a flashback (Yaaaaay) to Robin's first actual real encounter with Morgan.