Robin's heart felt as though it might burst watching his daughter sleeping beside him, nestled in the crook of his arm. Ever since her sudden appearance in his life two months ago, he'd bonded deeply with this child from the future. She adored him openly, even dressing exactly like him with a replica of his oversized cloak. Though he wouldn't admit it, it fed his ego that his child appreciated him so.

She even looked a great deal like him; though her facial features were obviously more feminine and child-like in her young age. Their body types were similar as well; he felt sorry that she was as lean and skinny as her father. But even now, she was beautiful and charismatic. There was only one small issue…

Robin frowned as he grabbed a lock of her shiny red hair between his fingers, careful not to wake her. It was messy and short, cut by Morgan herself in an attempt to keep it "out of the way." He dropped her hair sullenly, going deep into thoughts he'd had so many times already.

Who was her mother?

Robin wasn't romantically involved with anyone, gods, he didn't even really think of anyone that way. Yes, he did find most of the women in his life attractive and enjoyable to be around, but with an army to plan battles for that sort of thing wasn't exactly on the forefront of his mind.

But yet here was his daughter; and there was no doubt she was his. He mentally went through the list of all the red-haired women in camp as he had done at least a million times before in the past two weeks. Cherche, Anna, Cordelia, Miriel, and Sully, and Noire…

He immediately ruled out Noire with a wrinkle of his nose. He couldn't possibly become… involved with a future child, not with his own child here already. Though Noire was grown, he couldn't think of her as anything but a child- Tharja and Gaius's child, at that.

It didn't help that none of the remaining five possibilities were married, either. He agonized over these same thoughts over and over, trying to find a conclusion that would work. But no matter what angle he played it in his mind, he realized that relationships couldn't be carefully plotted and controlled like battles.

He tightened his arm around Morgan, looking down at her tiny face fearfully. His main concern was that if he didn't hurry and figure some course of action, the future that held Morgan would be missed and she would disappear from him…

He forced a smile on his face as his daughter began to wake, rubbing her brown eyes- identical to his own- sleepily. He'd already considered asking her if she knew anything, but Morgan had told him without his asking that she had no memories of her own mother. Not exactly reassuring.

"Morning, father," she yawned, sitting up and stretching. He chuckled, shaking his head. "Try afternoon. You fell asleep in the middle of strategy lessons."

Robin allowed his worries to fade into the back of his mind as Morgan immediately began apologizing, telling him what an awful daughter she was for falling asleep during his lesson, that she would make it up to him.

He silently promised her that he would find her a mother, someone who could love her as much as he did.


"Alright, Robin. Tell me what's on your mind."

"Huh?"

Robin looked up at his best friend in confusion. Chrom was a patient man by nature, but he seemed agitated at the moment. "I don't know what you mean-"

"You've been polishing your sword for over an hour now," Chrom pointed out, his blue eyes narrowing. "Just tell me what's keeping you so preoccupied."

Robin sighed. "Morgan is a beautiful girl, isn't she?"

Chrom shook his head at this, crossing his arms over his chest impatiently. "Don't try and change the subject-"

"No, this is the subject. Morgan is a very beautiful girl, right?"

Chrom shifted a bit uncomfortably, nodding his agreement with an uncertain bob of his head.

"A beautiful child like her must have an equally beautiful mother." Robin said bitterly, watching as understanding came across the prince's face.

"Morgan's a redhead," Chrom offered in a helpful tone, as if Robin didn't already know.

"Yes," the tactician agreed sarcastically. "I am aware."

"Are you- I mean, do you find any of the redheads in camp-"

"I don't know," Robin cut Chrom off quickly before he could ask that potentially embarrassing question. "I mean, with time I probably could, ah, become acquainted, but as of right now… no. I don't even spend much time with any women, let alone redheads specifically."

"Perhaps her mother isn't even within the camp," Chrom said slowly, his eyebrows furrowing in thought. "Maybe you became too drunk one day off at a tavern, and then-"

"Chrom, please," Robin begged, his fair face turning pink. "Be serious."

"Sorry," the prince grumbled, sighing as he shrugged his broad shoulders. "I'm sure anything I can think of, you've thought of twice. If it makes you feel any better, I haven't been having much luck… romantically, either."

Robin winced sympathetically for his friend's plight. "Then Olivia is still… shy?"

"Every time I so much as look at her for more than a moment, she flees like I'm a Risen," Chrom confessed darkly. "What am I doing wrong?"

Gods, Robin didn't know. He'd never courted a woman at all, let alone one as timid as Olivia.

"She'll become comfortable, Chrom. Just give her time," he advised gently, placing a hand on the man's shoulder for a moment before standing. "I should go and check with Frederick," he muttered, knowing the knight's hatred for tardiness. "His report is probably ready."

Chrom nodded and smiled devilishly. "Say hello to a pretty redhead along the way."


Robin did see a pretty redhead, much to his anxiety. Cherche was in the open wooded area that the Shepherds used for a training ground, her wyvern chewing on one of the dummies meant for target practice. She waved cheerfully as Robin approached, patting the huge beast lovingly.

"Hello, Robin. Do you want to pet Minervykins?"

"Ah, n-no thank you," he stuttered, avoiding Cherche's questioning eyes like the plague. "Have you seen Fredrick around?"

"He left a few minutes ago, looking for you," Cherche informed him sympathetically.

Robin cursed colorfully under his breath, wishing Minerva would suddenly develop a taste for tacticians. That would certainly save him a lot of pain that was coming from Frederick.

"Thank you, Cherche," he said awkwardly, smiling at her briefly before turning on his heel and speed-walking away from her. This was pathetic; her hair wasn't even the same shade of red as Morgan's. His daughter's hair had darker tones, not the pink-red tones in Cherche's hair.

But what if it was supposed to Cherche, and because he doubted that he'd miss his chance? He sighed as he considered this, walking aimlessly in search of Frederick. He finally located him by the gardens with Miriel. He forced himself to relax as he approached them.

"Frederick, I apologize. I was assisting Chrom with a task," he explained quickly as the brunette glared at him. The knight nodded slowly, his armor clanking as he crossed his arms.

"I'm sure if Lord Chrom required you, then the excuse for your tardiness is valid," he sighed, turning to Miriel with a "can you believe this?" expression.

He relaxed tenfold, scarcely believing he'd made off without having to do a hundred push-ups or run a mile. Miriel tilted her head, her brown eyes curious.

The mage studied Robin like a bug under a microscope, making him shift uncomfortably in his boots. "Tell me, Robin," she finally said, pushing her glasses higher up her sharp nose, "How is your daughter?"

He gulped; amazed that she could see through him that easily. "Morgan's fine, I'm sure…"

"I find it fascinating that you are the only one to reunite with your future offspring that has not already secured a spouse," she continued brutally, raising a thin eyebrow. "Don't you?"

"Uh… I suppose…"

"By means of deduction, there are only five possible females within the camp that could mother Morgan, considering her skin tone, hair color, and overall genetic makeup," Miriel said, "If my calculations are correct. And I do believe them to be accurate. There is a very slim chance that Morgan did not inherit her vibrant hair color from her potential mother, in which case I would need to recalculate."

"Oh, really? That's, uh-"

"These possibilities include Cordelia, Anna, Cherche, Sully… and myself," she concluded, glancing at Frederick briefly. "Though I'm sure you'll forgive me if I extract myself due to… prior commitments."

Robin looked at Frederick, who was steadily watering a cabbage plant. Was he imagining it, or was the knight blushing? "I understand, Miriel," the tactician finally replied dryly, "Thank you for your concern."

"Not at all," she answered brightly, opening the huge book she always carried with her and writing in it frantically, murmuring things like "fascinating" and "the timeline" under her breath.

Frederick cleared his throat and turned his attention from the plants, his cross expression aimed directly at Robin now. "Shall I begin my report? To start, you'll need to re-think your strategies for the time being. Lon'qu received an injury that should keep him off the battle field…"

Robin was forced to listen carefully and concentrate as Frederick went on and on, thankful for the distraction. He could worry about his daughter's future later.


Please keep in mind that I'll probably tweak the game's event a small bit for this story's purposes. Review your thoughts and opinion if you wanna, next chapter should be out very soon. :)