The Wrong Time
Morgan was dying.
He knew that before he stepped into the time vortex. Like the rest of his comrades, he had incurred injuries from their last fight. His, however, were more severe that theirs, and, on a fool's whim, he kept quiet about his injuries with hope that, once they came out of the other side, they would be safe, and that he would be able to get medical treatment.
No one had told them about being separated, and they were completely unprepared for it. Laurent was the first to be thrown out of the vortex, and everyone started to panic. Lucina, as the leader she was, shouted at them to stay together, so they started holding hands and linking arms together in a futile effort to follow her orders.
Morgan, however, was too tired. He had lost a lot of blood, and lethargy was setting in, which made it too difficult for him to participate. He was shocked when everyone winked out of the vortex all at once. He let out a shout of fear and struggled to make sense of what was happening when the lights around him disappeared and he crashed into a field of grass.
He forced himself to sit up and look around. The homes in the distance looked peaceful as he took a few shaky steps towards them before collapsing. Still in his panic, he called out for Lucina, and, when she didn't answer, he called out for help until something—his own blood, he assumed—lodged itself in his throat and choked him.
He managed to avert asphyxiating himself by rolling to his side, and wheezed when he was able to breathe once more. His heavy breathing and darkening world rendered him deaf to the footsteps that rushed towards him. He didn't see the person who had come to his rescue until he was upon him.
He wanted to shout and scream and cry. He wanted to curse the gods and Lucina and her crazy ideas. He wanted to damn his parents for bringing him into the world, and he wanted to laugh at his own existence for being so miserable, for being the son of extinction incarnate. But his severe blood loss insured that he couldn't do anything besides watch the horror and confusion dawning in his rescuer's eyes.
For his rescuer was none other than himself. He had landed in another timeline, and his alternate self had come to his rescue. Morgan tried to imagine what it was like to come across his another version of himself dying in the fields, but couldn't manage it. He knew it would have to hurt, but he didn't think it would hurt as much as when Lucina would find out that he never made it.
He couldn't do that to her. He had sworn to help her end this madness, and he knew that the group wouldn't do well without him, as he was their tactician.
The Morgan above him was shouting and panicking now, looking absolutely terrified as he called out for his parents. He felt something throb inside of him at the idea of seeing his mother and father again, but he had more important things to do.
He forced himself to become aware of his hands, and, through monumental effort, lifted an arm and pointed it at his alternate self. He felt for the magic of the time vortex that still lingered around him, and put all of his magic—and all of his life force—into calling it. The vortex answered, and he commanded it to swallow up his panicky, alternate self and sending him to where he was supposed to go.
With his last breath, Morgan prayed that his alternate self was a better tactician than he was. It was all up to him now.
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In an alternate timeline, a Morgan awoke in a temple with a severe headache and missing memories and was later rescued by a mother and a father that much resembled his own…
…While his true mother and father found the body of his alternate self lying in the fields not far away from their home.