Hello dear viewers, I got this idea and decided you know what, why not write a story about it. So here I am, writing my first fanfiction because of a plague of plot bunnies. I hope you all enjoy it.
In a world sometime and someplace, a man once stated that "Fate is a fickle thing". Though at the time he was referencing the fact that he both became CEO to a large conglomerate and had just lost his wife, within 24 hours of each other, he truly was more right than he would ever have the discreet pleasure of finding out. This would naturally come in the form of a certain divine entity that shall not be named, who decided that it would be most delightful to fuck over both Naga's and Grima's plans for the universe by changing a single variable. This variable would be the one thing to truly separate this dimension from all its kin, and shall be where our story starts.
Prologue: a Dark Premonition
There lies in the ruins of an ancient evil shrine three men. The shrine itself is dark and dreary, as almost all sites of unparalleled Evil are. In the back of the room there is a large stone altar bathed in black and purple flames, the likes of which a maiden of pure soul might be sacrificed were this another story. Standing about ten feet away is an old sorcerer, heavily wounded, though confident in his victory. Another five feet away are two slightly aged men, who look to be 40 somethings that are driven down by life. One has snow white hair and is thin and of a pale complexion. He is carrying a one-and-a-half hand sword that is black and white in his right hand while his left clutches his bloodied side. The second man is broader and taller than the first man, while also slightly darker in skin tone. His blue hair marks him as one of the royal family of Ylisse, as does the Mark of Naga on his shoulder, and the holy sword Falchion in his hands.
"This is it, our final battle" the blue haired man remarks almost casually to the white haired man. The tone he takes is not that of a flippant teenager, but that of a man who knows they will win because of his faith in the white haired man next to him.
"Why did you have to say that Chrom? You just jinxed us," Whined the man whose hair was like a snow drift to his now named partner Chrom.
Butting in, the Sorcerer intoned "You cannot win, accept your fate."
"Do you have a plan, Robin?" Chrom asked his comrade.
"When do I not? Go high."
And so the conflict between the forces of good and evil resumed, the two 'heroes' fighting side by side as if they were created to do so. Seamless transitions, one slashes at the face while the other rolls to the side and stabs at the exposed back of their opponent. One slashes the feet the other brings his blade into a downward stroke strong enough to gouge into the stone flooring when evaded. The Sorcerer with a yell casts a spell in the form of a fireball made of the same fire at the altar.
Pulling back, the two heroes favor old wounds, Chrom in particular favoring his right shoulder that was never granted the opportunity to heal all those years ago. With a look of concern in his eyes the tactician gestures to his shoulder. The message is clear, 'do you need a breather, I can provide some downtime. With a shake of his head, Chrom derails that train of thought.
Back into combat all sides charge, with the Sorcerer looking the worst. After a near miss by Robin's sword, the Sorcerer is cleaved through the chest by a viscous backhanded swing by Chrom.
"We did it, we can all rest easy now friend" Chrom practically wheezes out, having lost his breath through the rigors of combat. He is nowhere near as young as he once was after all.
"NO!" Spits the voice of the Sorcerer," for you shall die here." With that he casts a large dark wave that threatens to kill the both of them. Thinking quickly, robin did the only thing he could. He shoved his friend out of the blast. With that the Sorcerer crumbles to dust, hopefully this time to never be heard from again.
"Are you al-ugh" a sudden pain in his abdomen cause Chrom to stop and look down. Piercing his solar plexus was a blindingly bright object, a fatal blow. Robin looks down at his blood covered right hand in shock and abject horror. "Remember, this is not your fault. Run… and save… yourself." With those last words Chrom falls first to his knees, and then crumples to the floor, lifeless.
The sound of a grown man's scream and the cackling of a mad man are the only sounds that are heard in the cavern. The altar seems to beckon to the lone man in the room, and as he reaches the nexus of power, all he can think is, 'I'm sorry lissa my love, you'll have to raise Owain and Morgan without me.'
-
He can hear voices, and they happening to be interrupting the divine bliss known as sleep.
"We have to do something, what if he was attacked by bandits?" That was a feminine voice, almost pleading. For some reason it sounded almost…familiar. That and quite beau—No, not going down that train of thought.
"Well then, what do you suggest?" a male voice inquires. At this point the man- That's strange, I can't quite recall my name-he mused, decided to open his eyes and face the world.
"It's not recommended to take naps in the middle of a field you know," the male voice that spoke earlier could be now connected to a man with deep blue hair and a strange marking on his right shoulder.
"Thank you Chrom" he states to the blue haired man in response to being helped up.
"Oh, you know me?" Chrom inquires of him, almost surprised, but something about his expression makes it seem false.
"I don't recall, it just came to me."
"What is your name?"
At this point, the man panicked internally. He still could not recall his name. To make matters worse, he couldn't recall a thing. Not his past, name, age, or even why he was or where he was.
"I… don't know, I… can't remember anything at all. Where are we?"
"You mean to tell me that you remember milord's name but not your own?" This startled the man, as he in his confusion somehow missed the giant freaking knight standing slightly beyond the two people.
"Ooh, ooh, I know what this is! It's called amnesia!" the blonde haired girl, proud owner of the first voice he heard, and a seemingly excitable young lady, interjected.
"It's called a load of Pegasus dung, milady" the knight snapped. Obviously he wasn't the trusting sort, and he seemed rather stern to the young man.
"But what if it is true Frederick? We can't just leave him here if so, that would be neglecting our duty a shepherds." Chrom points out. The man can't help but wonder what shepherds were doing dressed equipped for battle.
"Don't mind Frederick the wary over here, my names Lissa and we are here to help," the blonde girl, now known to the young man as Lissa, tells him.
"It is a title that I shall wear with pride milady," Frederick drolly intones. He seemed used to this kind of verbal abuse, the young man thought.
"Now I you will come to Southtown with us we will figure out what to do with you," Chrom states.
"Am I to be your prisoner then, don't I get a say in this?"
"It is only until we establish that you are no enemy of Ylisse, friend" Chrom says between mirthful chuckles.
"Is that where we are then, Ylisse?"
"Someone pay this no named actor, he plays the part of the fool quite well," Frederick snarks.
"My name is Robin" the young man snaps, and then a look of confusion makes its way onto his face.
"That's weird, my name just came to me." Frederick snorts in disbelief, while Lissa points to the distance and shouts for them to look. There, where she was pointing, was a small town in flames.
"Quick we must go," Chrom shouts.
"What about him?"
"Unless he's on fire, it can wait!" The trio rushes off, leaving Robin to think, What about a plan? Sighing, Robin leaves to help the trio.
And that's a wrap. Hope you all enjoyed and hopefully i'll see you all soon. I' currently thinking Fridays will be my official update days, but I don't know yet.