I don't own Fire Emblem. Otherwise, the stories of the games would include a lot more senseless shenanigans. Probably.

Castle Ylisstol - Northern Wing - Terrace - Afternoon

"... and that is why I gathered the forces left under my command as well as... a child to head to the Outrealm Gate in order to travel back in time. Trailed by a Risen horde and the wings of despair I -probably- entered the gate last. The aforementioned child had dragged me through the portal after an explosion. And, well... Morgan had explained the rest."

'Marth' let out a heavy sigh. She had done it. She had told them about the apocalypse. She had also told them that she was a descendant of the exalted bloodline and even proven it by showing off her birthmark. The hollow teardrop falling into a crescent line, the exalted mark, the same birthmark that also adorned the lord's right arm and the forehead of exalt Emmeryn, was visible inside the left, deep blue eye of the time traveling princess.

"So... Who are your parents? Who do I marry" Lissa asked innocently, but cheerful anticipation was clearly visible, even though she hold it back.

The bluenette, however, was very adamant about keeping the identities of her parents a secret. Also, 'Marth' had no desire to be used as a fortune teller. "I will not tell you about that! As soon as I start, everyone will want to know about who they will marry in the future." Her unrelenting gaze reinforced her statement, much to the cleric's disappointment. 'I told them that they were all going to die painfully by the hands... err, claws of walking corpses and the fell dragon, but aunt Lissa just wants to know who she married. Great...'

In the meantime, Maribelle eyed the bluenette with greatly contained hostility. "Forgive me if I am not willing to believe the words of a madwoman, but this story seems to be very far-fetched. Time traveling? Scholars, both the simple as well as the greatest ones alike, would share the following statement: Only Naga, the Divine Dragon, is able to do such a feat. And you tell me you managed to do so by walking through a simple gate?"

A simple and blunt "Yes" was the time traveler's answer. However, seeing that the blonde noblewoman wasn't satisfied with her statement, she detailed her answer a tiny bit more, albeit in an annoyed tone. "The original plan was to prove myself in the Awakening-Ritual and slice an exalted Falchion through the Demon Dragon's throat. However, after assembling the Fire Emblem and arriving on the shrine on top of Mount Prism we had to find out that the Divine Deity Naga was dealt a crippling blow from said genocidal dragon. Naga only had enough strength to power up a gate - located on a remote island 'somewhere' to the south, multiple days worth of marching away from our current location, guarded by hordes and hordes of risen, only accessible via no longer existent boats - that we then could use in order to travel back in time. Strengthening a single individual and teleporting a small group on the back of the demon dragon would've come with very high power costs she could apparently not spare at that particular moment."

"I have the slight suspicion that the Divine Dragon we all know and worship is a sadist." the bluenette added after a short pause.

The awkward silence that followed was soon broken by the oh so well mannered noble. At least she dropped some of the hostility. "Well, your 'story' did take around seven hours to finish and I must concede that my attentiveness faded during the first three hours of your speech. I admit, it was far more... entertaining than the council meetings. Anyways, you have my respect regarding long speeches: You managed to talk Emmeryn into sleep."

Maribelle spoke the truth. On the other end of the round table, one could get a good look at the silently, peacefully snoring form of the oldest royal sibling, sleeping on her chair while barely holding onto a story book about adventures and dragons. Cuddling tightly to a stuffed dragon, young Robin accompanied her in her royal nap, snoring while he slept on top of her lap. The young one had such a peaceful expression sticking on his face that one might forget that he had blown up the training fields just mere hours before.

Lissa must've chatted a lot with her best friend since she was up and awake, staring at her big sister and the young one. She barely could hold back her giggle.

The final members of this fine meeting were no longer participating. The seats, once belonging to the new head tactician and to the commander of The Shepherds, were empty, no traces of their occupants' presence left behind. Even a certain, overprotective knight was absent.

And so, the time traveling princess found herself staring at her untouched teacup. With a heavy heart as well as grief and sorrow hidden behind a stoic mask she swallowed the now cold liquid in one go, much to the disgust of the noblewoman.

Training grounds - Afternoon

"GO! GO! GO! GO!"

The training grounds might not be in their best conditions, and the craters in the dirt are certainly not safe to navigate around...

"GO MORGAN! GO MORGAN!"

And yes, some sharp chunks of debris were lying around everywhere...

"FRE-DE-RICK! *clap-clap-clap* FRE-DE-RICK! *clap-clap-clap*"

And to be honest, no one was eager to level the place back to its original state.

"14.367! 14.368! 14.369!" 'Fascinating!'

But none of that was important right now. Frederick the Wary, wearing his full armor, had unknowingly invited Morgan to a pushup-challenge. The inexhaustible, laws-of-physics-defying knight competed against the tactician's inhuman strength for quite some time now, with no other than prince Chrom playing the judge after the bluenett had broken down at around 3000 pushups himself. They also had drawn in a lot of other recruits, soldiers and the occasional palace staff, as well as The Shepherds.

"Gods, the Vaike knew that Frederick would last for a long time, but the lass? Even ol' teach can't compete with that." the loudest member of the Shepherds commented to the sight he was seeing. "Heck, she don't even have muscles like the Vaike does! How does she do that?" Vaike was clearly confused at the sight of a skinny woman with noodle arms doing a ridiculous amount of pushups. Even the mountain of muscles had to admit that she was way above his league.

"I have to admit, the girl has way too much stamina and strength. Strength that stays all in contrast to her physique. Heck, she is our tactician! Tac-ti-ci-an! Does she lift up entire bookcases while she studies?" the red headed cavalier adds, equally surprised at the sight. Sully had seen before what Morgan was capable of back in the burning forest and back in Southtown, but she never imagined that she could be on equal terms with their lieutenant, Frederick the Wary. One of the only men in the army she would openly admit to that he was stronger than her. 'Gods, now I'm degraded to the second strongest woman of the halidom.'

The two were close to the 15.000-mark as one of them faltered. The arms began to shake and gave away. The chanting of the participant's name stopped and the sound of a thud marked the end of the contest. And so, the recruits, knights and Shepherds saw the white haired girl on the ground, her face in the dust.

However, she wasn't panting. Or sweating. She wasn't moving, either.

Without vocalizing it, the lord had judged his lieutenant as the winner before he moved to the downed figure of the red-eyed white-haired woman, concern clearly visible on his face. Stretching out a hand and helping her up to stand a standing position, Chrom asked about her well-being. "Are you alright?"

For a moment, Morgan just stared down, her mind absent. Her shoulder length white hair blocked the sun's light, covering the eyes in a pitch black shadow. The only parts not covered by this phenomenon were her nose and her mouth.

Then, without averting her gaze from the ground, she spoke up in a calm, cold and distinctively threatening manner. "Chrom?"

"... Yes?" he said back while raising an eyebrow. Something in his gut told him that he had to run far, far, far away from the source of impending doom that appeared to be his new tactician, but he didn't listen to it.

"Am I fat?"

'Oh... Sh-' He inwardly cursed himself and prayed to Naga and Grima alike when he heard the question. Chrom, prince of the halidom and one of the most dense persons in Ylisse knew VERY WELL, that, when a woman asked questions of this particular kind, he was doomed.

It was also one of the reasons why he wasn't interested in finding a woman to settle down with. That and the reason that he was only twenty-one. Nobles might think that this was the perfect age for a prince to settle down, partake in an arranged marriage and get a whole lot of royal kids, but mood swings like these only encouraged him to do nothing of the sorts.

That and because most girls were annoying, his little sister included. He learned as much when he was four years old. "No, you are not fat."

"So I'm delicate." Another question a man shouldn't answer with yes.

"No, you aren't delicate."

"Which means I am fat." Here comes the death trap.

"You are neither."

"You say I am nothing?" the temperature lowered by some degrees.

"No, I didn't."

"So you say I am delicate AND fat?!"

"No, you are-"

*Smack*

Thirty Seconds later

Chrom had absolutely no Idea how he ended up like this. Well, he knew, but at the same time didn't. He only knew that he had apparently said something wrong, if his aching head and the bump on his forehead were the indicators for that. He also had the slight suspicion that the angry white-blonde woman that faced him from a fifteen steps distance, a practice sword in her right hand, had something to do with that.

However, he didn't know what he had done to deserve the punishment he had apparently received. In fact, the last thing he could remember before he was lying face-up on the destroyed training field was that he and a lot of other onlookers from the garrison had watched and cheered to Frederick and Morgan as they were doing their pushups.

They were at around 12.600, if he remembered right. (1)

"Chrom Lowell." The addressed lord gulped and faced the harbinger of death. The white haired woman and her weapon were covered by purple energy, which looked extremely similar to fire. "I am so glad that you volunteered to be my sparring partner. Don't worry, I won't hold back."

The bluenette momentarily found a practice sword in his hands, apparently provided by thin air. Looking at the crowd of onlookers in hope to find the person who gave him the sword (and also to desperately seeking aid).

Vaike grinned at the lord like he had no care in the world and gave him a thumbs up. His wife, Miriel, had opened a notebook and excitedly (she said 'fascinating', after all) wrote about her next subject of research.

Sully and a large (very large) mob consisting of furious female guards, trainees, Pegasus knights and members of the Chrom-Fan-Club practically assaulted him with dagger firing glares, all the while sharpening their weapons.

Frederick gave the lord a reassuring smile and said something about 'a healthy attitude' - and gently stroked the shaft of his silver lance as if it was a cute, little kitten.

He gave up on searching for 'allies' in the group of onlookers as soon as he caught a glimpse of Sumia sitting on the ground, maintaining a scythe. The amount of kiling intent she radiated was so stark in contrast to her usual kind and timid nature that it almost made him soil himself.

The question of where she got that scythe from in the first place never crossed his mind.

Realizing that he couldn't escape his judgment he faced the woman he somehow made absolutely furious. He really wished he could remember how and why it happened.

Author Notes

-At long last~

Get out of my brain, Grima! Also, hi there.

Robin: Hi!

Wa- wait what? How did you get into the Author Notes?

Robin: Not saying!

Aww, why not?

Robin: Because you are a meanie!

A meanie? Why am I a meanie?

Robin: You dropped your writing schedule! Your readers waited almost an entire month and then you present them a short chapter!

Yea, about that... Writer's Block. Also, I distracted myself with a LOT with fanfiction. Mainly Naruto. And 'Shattered Reflection' got updated.

Robin: TRAITOR!

I know, I know, I am an Idiot. Sorry, guys. Anyways, Robin, do you like Emmeryn's company?

Robin: She is the third best-est person of the world! You better let her survive chapter 9 or i'll be very mad at you!

Wait... you played the game?

Robin: Of course i did! I'm the potatonist after all!

Protagonist. The word you wanted to use is Protagonist.

Robin: Nope. I'm pretty sure it's potatonist. Also, stop writing nouns with capital letters.

I'm a German. It is hard for me to not do that. Habits die hard.

Robin: Anyways, you better answer your reviewers now. After all, it's a habit of your's.

Alright, I do that now. And you go back to your dimension now.

Robin: I will. Bye.

And repair the fourth wall!.. please.

(1) Yes, Morgan had smacked Chrom's cheek so hard that he lost an hour worth of memories. (2 pushups per 3 seconds are reasonable, right?)

Reviews:

Fireminer:
I think you alluded to the part where Robin get's chased through the barracks. Yea, I did a terrible job with the distribution of lines.

Xillax:
And now everyone who had listened to her story knows that the future is doomed! *Confetti for everyone!* Oh, wait, no one had listened.
I definitely plan to let them interact with the shepherds more. Gods, it will be more than akward for Lucina if Virion decides to get a pick on her...
He wouldn't survive it.
I'm glad you are enjoying it. :)

Guest:
Whoops. I should probably use the therm white-blonde instead then... (Welcome to the suffering caused by continuously learning another language.)

Thank you all for reviewing. Feel free to criticize me or give me suggestions of what you like to see.
And thank you for reading my ramble.