Chapter 5: Time's Split

"OW!"

Robin grabbed her smarting hip, shrinking before Maribelle's parasol-based assault.

"I-I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Robin insisted, trying to stave Maribelle off with a hand. "I didn't realize…!"

Maribelle wielded the parasol threateningly, murder in her eyes. "Listen here, you low-born, cuckolding scum," she threatened, "you have no idea of the horrors you have just—"

"Maribelle," Chrom interrupted. "Maybe we should just hear her out."

Maribelle whirled around, and Chrom found himself at the business end of Maribelle's parasol. "You are not taking her side right now!" she shouted.

Chrom raised his hands defensively. "Look, all I'm saying is, we should at least get some context before you, ah… murder her."

"If my two cents matter, I like that plan," Robin added.

"Silence!"

Chrom pinched the bridge of his nose. "Hasn't tonight been long enough, dear? Let's just get this out of the way so we can go to sleep…"

Robin flushed red with embarrassment. "…'Dear'? Oh, gods. Not again."

"Shot in the dark here," said Morgan, "but I think she's from an alternate timeline."

"Yes! What the young lady said," Robin said eagerly. "So please put down your parasol, Maribelle, and let me clear up this misunderstanding."

"You will use my title when addressing me, wretch," Maribelle scoffed.

Robin sighed. "…Yes, ma'am." It's like when we first met all over again.

"And let's take this to the conference room," Chrom added slowly. He gently pushed Maribelle's parasol down. "Let's just sit down… and have a relaxing chat."

Robin brightened. "Oh! I have a better plan. How about I take you to my camp? Then Chrom and I—" She bit her tongue. "My Chrom and I can explain everything. It's only a mile or two to the south, in the woods."

Chrom faced his wife. "What do you think, Maribelle?"

Maribelle crossed her arms irritably. "As you wish."

Chrom took a step toward the door before hesitating. Looking over his shoulder, he noticed that Lucina, Morgan, Cynthia, and Brady stood still, evidently more than willing to not watch Maribelle's wrath unfold.

Chrom gestured impatiently. I need, like… witnesses around, at least!

Reluctantly, they followed.

Sully squinted into the dark. "…Hold up, there. Who goes?"

"It's just me, Sully," Robin said brightly. "I brought some guests."

"Oh! Welcome back, Robin. How'd scouting go?"

Robin waggled her hand 'so-so.' "Could've been better."

"Hmhm. Well, go on in, Chrom's waiting in his tent."

As Robin drew closer, Sully made out one of the silhouettes standing next to her—Chrom, unmistakably. Sully frowned in confusion. "I thought…"

Then, more: Lissa. Virion. Stahl. S…Sully?

Sully watched, slack-jawed, as her duplicate walked right past her (an equal look of awe on the other Sully's face).

"Aw, hell!" Sully muttered.

Robin stepped halfway through the tent flap. Chrom looked up at her from his desk, a smile growing at the sight. "Hey there. What are you doing back so soon? I thought you'd be out for the rest of the night."

Robin took a breath. "Okay. Don't freak out."

"What? Why?"

Robin shifted the tent flap aside. A small assortment of familiar faces—too familiar, in one instance—filed in one after the other.

Chrom stood, frowning quietly at his doppelganger. For a long moment, all occupants of the tent were dead silent.

The hosting Chrom spoke first. "…You've got to be kidding me, Robin."

Chrom—the first Chrom—slowly offered a hand. "Uh… Greetings. I'm… Well, you know who I am."

The alternate Chrom slowly shook the first Chrom's hand. "Sorry if this comes off as rude, but boy do I hate timeline shenanigans. Things get really confusing, really fast." He faced Robin. "Can we get some nicknames going?" He gestured at the first Chrom and his accompanying family. "What should we call them?"

"'Scuse me?" said Brady. "Why're we the ones stuck with nicknames?"

"Because this is my camp," said the alternate Chrom.

"Um, Chrom," Robin said quietly. "W-We should probably… uh… take the nicknames, instead."

Chrom pursed his lips. "…It happened again, didn't it."

Robin nodded, embarrassed.

Chrom sighed, then forced a smile for the newcomers. "I apologize for my wife's behavior. I hope she didn't scare you too badly."

"Your wife," the first Chrom said dryly, glancing at Robin. Huh. Not sure what to make of this. If Maribelle was in a better mood, she'd be teasing me to high heaven right now. "Well, Maribelle didn't break anything of hers, so we're all good."

"Maribelle? You and her?" The other Chrom looked from his duplicate, to Maribelle, and back again. "Huh! Never gave it a thought."

"You're not gonna start now," Robin teased. Her husband rolled his eyes.

"Well, as irritating as the naming situation goes, it's always interesting hearing the differences between times," the other Chrom said. "I'd be happy to hear your story. That is, assuming Robin is forgiven?"

The first Chrom glanced at Maribelle. She curtly nodded, though she still held a grumpy expression.

"Great!" said Robin. "As for naming, let's keep things simple. You guys keep your names, and we'll just go by alternate-whatever. Or alt-whatever. For example, I'll be alt-Robin! How's that sound?"

"Sounds like I'm gonna hate the word 'alternate' come morning," muttered Chrom. He faced… er… alt-Chrom. "Speaking of which, do you mind if we adjourn for now? As interested as I am, I'm ridiculously sleepy. It's been a hell of a night."

"Anything for a fellow Exalt." The two Chroms shook hands. "See you then."

Chrom grinned at Maribelle as he led the group back to the mansion—thankfully, not a terribly far walk. "Penny for your thoughts."

"I suppose I can deign to forgive the alternate Robin for her slight," Maribelle said coolly. "Although, she implied she has done such an act before, and therefore should have prepared for that possibility!"

"I'm more surprised that Dad was a girl," Morgan noted. "Some might say 'even better.' I probably wouldn't, but the jury's out 'til I get some sleep."

Nobody really had anything to say to that. Cynthia did facepalm, though.

Chrom leaned his sword against the wall and quietly slipped into bed. Maribelle already occupied the other half, rather pointedly facing away from Chrom.

"Maribelle, come on," Chrom groaned. "Are you seriously going to pout?"

"I am not pouting," Maribelle stated coldly, still not facing him. "And I would thank you not to insult me by flinging such a childish term my way. Good night."

"Don't be mad at me," said Chrom. "And don't be mad at the other Robin, either. It was just a misunderstanding."

"Fine," Maribelle snapped. "It was. There we go. Now, good night."

Chrom sighed and doused his lamp.

Lucina stared at the card clasped in her hand. In the darkness, she could not see it, but she had long ago memorized every detail of Marth's painting.

She pulled the covers tighter over her, the sense of failure overwhelming.

"Hey. Lucina."

Lucina rolled over to face the second bed, surprised that her roommate was still awake. "What is it, Brady?"

"It's about those other guys. The, uh, the other-timeline guys."

"What about them?"

Brady huffed. "Whaddya mean 'what about them'? They're us! That doesn't freak you out?"

"To be honest: no. I had prepared for this possibility. After all, the situation with the dissonant Grima let us know that parallel timelines exist. That, and the Outrealms seem to be some sort of crossroads… as if they exist outside of the normal flow of time." She placed Marth's card on her nightstand, and she sat up. "It seemed somewhat inevitable. If a theoretically infinite number of timelines exist, then shouldn't there be at least one other timeline that also journeys into the Outrealms?"

"…Well… I guess when ya put it like that…" Brady muttered. "I still think it's weird. Not lookin' forward to meetin' my alternate self."

They were silent for a moment.

"Wait!" Brady said suddenly—Lucina could hear him sit up quickly in alarm. "What if that alternate party don't have us?! The, uh, the future kids, y'know?"

Lucina frowned thoughtfully. "…Perhaps… But Anna insinuated that our time travel was what opened the Outrealm Gate in our timeline. Following that line of reasoning, the alternate party would not be able to enter the Outrealms if we didn't travel through time in the first place."

"Mm."

Brady slowly eased back.

Lucina followed suit, resting her head on the comfortable pillow. If I can give Old Hubba one compliment, it's these rooms, Lucina thought. These beds are comparable to Ylisstol's.

"One last thing, sis."

"Certainly."

Brady paused. It was typical of him to take such long gaps when preparing something difficult to say; Lucina waited patiently.

"Does it bother you that… uh… in that other timeline…" Brady took a breath. "…Ma and Pa didn't end up together?"

Lucina furrowed her eyebrows.

Brady continued, "The other Pa had a thing for someone else—Robin, of all people—and he said he never even considered Ma. I dunno 'bout you, but that… that terrifies me, Luce." He shifted uncomfortably under his sheets. "Well? Does that freak you out?"

Lucina was quiet.

"…Y-Yes, Brady. I also find that concerning, but… I cannot justify to myself why. After all, everything worked out in our timeline, and that's all that matters. …Truth be told, once we recover Robin, there is little else left to be righted in this time."

"'Left to be righted'…? Wait, yer not saying ya still wanna go back?" Brady said indignantly. "Our future's a hellhole, Lucina, even with Grima gone! Everythin's better here. An' we've got family that we can't just leave behind."

"You are putting words in my mouth, Brady. I never said anything about going back."

"…You can't hide from me, Luce."

"I have no intention to." Lucina rolled over, her back to Brady. "…It's been too stressful of a day to continue conversing. We both need sleep. Good night, Brady."

Brady hesitated, evidently still skeptical, but he relented. "…G'night, sis."

"Okay. First things first." Chrom sat up. "How did scouting go?"

Robin sat up as well. "I… followed that lead, but I couldn't investigate the mansion before the other party arrived."

Chrom frowned. "That's too bad. So, no news on the bandits we've heard so much about?"

"No, nothing about the Einherjar. If that source was right, then the mansion is where they stem from, but the other Shepherds were using that building as a home base. Still are, in fact. I can't see them being the cause of the banditry, though."

"Can we be sure of that?" Chrom noted.

Robin chuckled. "I think so. You can trust yourself, can't you?"

Chrom laughed as well. "You've got a point there. Maybe they'll have more information on the Einherjar when we see them in the morning."

Robin's smile withered. "…I guess."

Chrom watched his wife's troubled expression. "What's the matter?"

"Chrom…" Robin said quietly. "…I didn't see their me among them."

Chrom frowned. "Hm… Yeah, I guess we didn't see their alternate Robin. …Ah!" He snapped his fingers, grinning. "That short-haired girl among them, the one with the tan-brown hair. It must have been her."

"I dunno," said Robin anxiously. "The only other party we've seen—their Robin was much more similar to me. Different hair color, but similar personality. She was forward, like me. But that brown-haired girl was kind of reserved… not to mention her hairstyle was radically different."

"Hair seems to be a variable with the alternate Robins," Chrom mused. "Everyone else in the present-day Shepherds looks pretty much the same across timelines except for you."

"To be fair, only seeing two other timelines doesn't exactly make that the rule," Robin teased.

"Anyway," Chrom said, "the girl was wearing clothes just like yours. The whole grandmaster-cloak thing. She had to have been the other you."

"It's not like I'm the only one who wears that," Robin said, frowning. "It's Plegian! …Not to mention that our son wears the same thing?"

Chrom rolled his eyes. "Like Morgan proves me wrong."

The sun shone bright as the morning dawned in the Outrealm. The Shepherds, eager to meet their other selves, were quick to mobilize for the short march southward.

As they reached the alternate Shepherds' camp, they noticed most of the alternates were similarly mobilized in order to receive their guests. The two masses of Shepherds slowly melted together into one mingling group, spread across the camp.

Chrom's mind spun at the sheer number of familiar faces. Two Vaikes, two Rickens. Two Kjelles—that answered the question about children.

Gods, if there's one parallel Shepherd for each of ours, there's something like eighty or ninety people here in total, he thought. Hopefully everyone splits up alright when we go our separate ways. …I'll get another headcount after all this.

Chrom, accompanied by the same small group as the previous night, followed the welcoming alternates of Chrom and Robin into the conference tent.

Chrom, Lucina, Brady, Maribelle, Cynthia, and Morgan took a side of the conference table. Maribelle was quite deliberate in sitting next to Chrom.

The alternate Chrom and Robin stood on the other side. Alt-Chrom pulled out a chair for his wife. Robin smiled and gave him a peck on the cheek before sitting down.

Maribelle's eyes narrowed in disgust.

Alternate-Chrom took a seat next to his wife. "So," he began. "I guess you guys have some questions. So do we."

"By all means, go first," said Chrom. "I'll let my questions fester a little more."

"As you wish." Robin and alternate-Chrom exchanged a nod. "I guess what's really on my mind is, what brings you to the Outrealms?"

"In search of a missing person," said Chrom. "Our Robin."

Robin frowned. "Really?" She glanced at Morgan. Hm. So, not her. She turned back to Chrom. "Perhaps we can help—we might've passed her by, at some point. Could you tell me what she looks like?"

The other group paused briefly.

"…If you're asking that question, then you can't help," said Cynthia. "Robin's, ah…"

"Robin's… our dad," Morgan slowly finished.

The two alternates slowly absorbed Morgan's words. A look of horror grew on Robin's face, while the alternate Chrom broke into a wide, entertained grin.

"I'm—I'm—I'm a guy?!" Robin exclaimed. "Impossible! How?!"

Chrom shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. I was pretty shocked to find out you were a woman in this timeline."

Alternate-Chrom burst out laughing. "Hahahaha! Oh, gods, that's hilarious!" He wiped a tear from his eye, aware of the scolding look Robin was giving him. "S-Sorry, but it is."

"I don't think so," said Robin.

"I do," Morgan snickered.

"Besides, that explains a lot," alt-Chrom continued. "How else would we not end up together?"

The room fell silent. Robin's eyes burned death rays into her husband's skull.

Alternate-Chrom slowly realized that his words were entirely lacking of tact. To further punctuate this, Maribelle, holding her parasol in a death grip, kicked her chair over and stormed out of the tent without a word.

Chrom grimaced, watching his wife go. He knew he had to follow her, but he couldn't leave just yet, not with all these questions burning in him.

"Uh…" Morgan said: anything to break the silence. "I think, um, that we should introduce ourselves. Right?" Nobody chimed in, so she took the work upon herself. "We've got Chrom over there, his two kids Brady and Lucina, and that was Maribelle that just marched out." She coughed. "You probably knew those. Anyway, this silver-haired beauty sitting right next to me is my sister, Cynthia, and as for moi, I'm Morgan. Robin and Sumia's daughters, that's who we are."

Alt-Chrom cleared his throat nervously. "A-Ah. Sumia and Robin, huh? I could, ah… I could see it."

"So you're a girl in this timeline," said alt-Robin. She smiled. "You are simply adorable! You should meet my son sometime. His name is also Morgan."

Alt-Chrom nodded at Lucina. "Can't forget our daughter. We have a Lucina, too—honestly, the two of you are identical."

"How is that possible?" Chrom asked. "With different parents, shouldn't our kids be entirely different?"

Alt-Chrom shrugged. "In theory, I guess. This proves otherwise, though—actual time travel trumps theory in my book. Your Cynthia looks the same as ours, too, but yours has silver hair while ours has dark brown." At Cynthia's confusion, he clarified, "Sumia and Frederick."

"Oh," Cynthia replied, a bad taste in her mouth.

Chrom frowned. The more pairing dissonances we learn, the more we're gonna hate each other. "Let's change the subject."

"Y-Yeah, I agree," alt-Robin coughed. Sorry, Sumia, you're cute, but I'd never swing that way. "So—why are you looking for your Robin? How'd he get lost, I mean?"

"Oh, right." Chrom clasped his hands, gathering his thoughts. "Before I make too many assumptions about how similar our timelines are, could you give me a brief rundown of how your timeline went?"

"Sure," alt-Chrom replied. "Starting from when? When Robin woke up?"

"Why not."

"Okay. So, Robin wakes up, then the Ylisse-Plegia War happens. It ended when Emm sacrificed herself to take the fight out of the Plegians, and for real when we finished off Gangrel." He watched the expressions of his audience.

"Good so far," said Chrom.

"Great. So, fast forward two years—but really a year and a half, I guess—and we're wrapped up in another war with Valm. Within a few months, though, we've taken down Walhart the Conqueror. Still good?"

Morgan gave him a thumbs-up.

"Things get weird with Validar, but thanks to Robin's foresight, she was able to save Basilio's life and do a bunch of other stuff and… Hm. Things got complicated here, but long story short, the Grima from Lucina's future merged with the present-day Grima, waking the old beast up, and we fought the monster and won."

Lucina nodded approvingly. "Virtually identical. Astonishing."

Chrom gestured at alt-Robin. "And she survived?"

The two alternates frowned, confused. "…Survived? Did your Robin fall in the final battle?"

"No… well, not exactly…" A thought occurred to Chrom. "Say… Chrom, how did you finish off the Fell Dragon?"

"With the blade of Falchion plunged into the facsimile's chest," alt-Chrom stated. "The beast will not hound our timeline for another millennium at the least."

The tent was silent.

Chrom stared at his hands, frowning. "So… that's the difference."

Alt-Robin looked around. "What? What difference? What other way was there, besides using Falchion?"

"Our Robin used his own power," Chrom explained. "He figured out a different solution… one that sacrificed his own life."

The alternates were stunned.

Chrom remembered Naga's words: the ones she had only spoken after the fall of Grima. "'His life and Grima's were inexorably linked'," he quoted. "'The only hand that can kill Grima is his own.' Robin learned that, if he were the one to finish off the Fell Dragon, the monster would be destroyed forever."

"No!" alt-Robin shouted, standing and slamming her fists onto the table in indignation. "Y-You're lying!"

"I'm afraid not," said Chrom grimly. "Like I said, his heart and Grima's were linked. Because he killed Grima, he, himself, disappeared into the void." He smiled slightly. "But… Naga told us that there was the tiniest of chances that he could survive, if his bonds were strong enough. And, apparently, we were lucky. We got that tiny chance, and now he's somewhere out there, somewhere in the Outrealms… we hope."

Chrom didn't dare voice his concern that this was all a wild goose chase, but he left that option in the air.

But anyway, he raised his hands, finished. "So that's how we got here."

Robin's eyes were wide with shock; her nails dug into the wooden table. "I… I could've… I…"

A tear ran down her cheek.

"It's so obvious," she breathed, staring at nothing. The Mark of the Fell Dragon, still adorning the back of her right hand, burned. "H-How could I not see…?"

Her husband raised a comforting hand, but she whirled away, rushing out of the tent in distress.

"…She'll need some time alone," alt-Chrom said quietly. His hand rested on the pommel of the Falchion, sheathed on his hip. "Unbelievable… absolutely unbelievable. There was a way to kill him for good…"

"Before you blame yourself too much," Chrom interjected, "think. How much worse was your method? You realize that, for his plan to work, Robin had to die?" He crossed his arms. "If you had known of this opportunity beforehand… would you have told your wife to take it?"

Alt-Chrom gripped Falchion, frustrated. "I-I don't know! I hate to think that our distant descendants—our great-grandchildren's great-grandchildren—will have the threat of Grima looming over them. But—" He cut himself off, unable to voice his feelings.

"If you want my two cents… If I had known of the plan beforehand, I would have told Robin not to do it," said Chrom. "Robin and I were very close friends, but even we weren't as close as you must be with your wife. Don't feel bad about what happened—her choice was no more wrong than our Robin's."

Alt-Chrom stared out the tent flap. "…Thanks. I'll take that to heart. And I'll… I'll try to make sure Robin sees it that way, too."

A lull in the conversation.

"…So, why're you guys in the Outrealms?" Cynthia asked.

Alt-Chrom blinked rapidly. "Right! We're actually, uh… our mission isn't quite as noble as yours." He rubbed his head sheepishly. "We're looking for a mythical place, a specific Outrealm. According to our Anna, it's called the Bathrealm."

"The Bathrealm?" Chrom asked skeptically.

"Yeah… It's… It's a hot spring."

No one spoke for a moment.

"Huh," Morgan said. "Well, that's simple."

"Sorry," alt-Chrom said hurriedly. "Our mission is so easy, while yours—"

"Don't worry about it," Chrom laughed. "Honestly, I'm glad to hear it. Happy you guys can just unwind, since the war is over for you. For us, it doesn't end until we come home with Robin." He sighed. "Thanks for having such a simple objective. The lack of drama really makes me happy."

"No problem, I guess." Chrom shrugged. "It shouldn't be this hard to find, to be honest. Anna—er, our Anna—already knew where it was, but she got a little lost. She'll find her way soon enough, I'm sure."

Alt-Anna gasped excitedly. "Anna, my dear!"

Anna approached her doppelganger, grinning. "How's it going, other-me?" The two high-fived.

"Pretty good, pretty good! Love the hair."

"Likewise, gorgeous."

The alternate Anna frowned. "…Actually, I'm a little lost. Do you remember where the Bathrealm is?"

"Oh, like I could ever forget everyone's favorite Outrealm!" Anna produced a pen and paper. "So, from this Outrealm, you're gonna hop into the Gate. You know how you would get to the Hotrealm?"

"Sure."

"So, you're heading that way—" she sketched a diagram—"by taking a left-inverse at Jungby. But, to get to the Bathrealm, you want to swing downwards around the Aurelis joint instead, and then take a double right-twist at Rausten." She finished the drawing, grinning, and handed it to her alternate self. "Got it?"

Alt-Anna smacked herself on the forehead. "Oh, darn it! I was taking an up-screw at Aurelis, and kept ending up in Crimea. Thanks, bud."

"Anytime, me!" Anna patted her alternate on the arm, and the two parted ways.

…After walking for a little while, Anna hesitated. "No, wait… that wasn't right. You wanna take a triple right screw at…" She shrugged. "Eh, they'll be fine." She resumed walking.

"We ended up here after hearing reports of banditry in the Outrealms," alt-Chrom explained seriously. "We eventually learned that this had to do with some… some mumbo-jumbo about these things called Einherjar, and we tracked them to their source: that mansion you guys are staying in. Robin was scouting the place when she ran into you."

"The Einherjar are from that mansion," Chrom confirmed. "They are all owned by an ageless man named Old Hubba—that's his home. But they—the Einherjar—were stolen from him by a former Grimleal named Algol, the one responsible for the bandit raids." He took a breath. "Old Hubba calls this conflict the 'Einherjar War.' We recently started helping him out, and we've recovered about a dozen Einherjar already."

"Algol? Name doesn't ring a bell," said alt-Chrom.

Chrom shrugged. "Didn't for me either."

"Heh. Thanks for the information, though. That clears everything—"

The tent flap rustled loudly as someone burst in. All eyes turned to the newcomer: Robin was back, and she wasn't alone.

Robin fumed, gripping the new person on the arm. Alt-Chrom stood, alarmed.

Chrom's heart fell. Uh-oh.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Robin growled, shaking Gangrel's arm roughly.

The unfamiliar guy's jaw was wide open, and try as she might to ward him off with sharp glares, his gaze was unrelenting.

"Geez, what do you want?" Severa snapped. "See something you like, pervert?"

The guy had the nerve to laugh. What an ass, Severa thought irritably.

"Sorry, sorry," he said, raising his palms peaceably. "Didn't mean to stare, haha."

"Then stop doing it," she snarled. "Move your filthy eyes off of me, and walk the hell away."

"Literally identical," the man said, grinning widely. "You are so Severa…"

"Obviously," Severa muttered. "You must know the other me. Though she's probably way uglier."

"I wouldn't say that. I can't imagine an ugly Severa."

Severa recoiled. "Ugh! You're gross." She turned away. "I'm leaving. Don't follow me."

"Wait!" he said, reaching out as though to stop her (but knowing better than to touch her). "C-Can't we talk? Do you wanna grab some tea or something?"

"Tea? What're you, this timeline's Inigo?" she said, disgusted.

"What? Do I look like Inigo?" He beamed. "I'd consider that a compliment, to be honest! My dancing is pretty garbage compared to his."

"…Yep, definitely not Inigo," she muttered. "You've got an ounce of humility in you."

He put a hand on his chest. "Sorry, Severa. My manners just went out the window, didn't they? Heheh. My name's actually Morgan."

Severa's eyes narrowed. "You expect me to believe that you're Morgan? Morgan's a girl in my timeline."

Morgan shrugged. "I dunno what to tell ya! It's the name my mom gave me, or so I'm told." He tapped his head, still grinning. "Caught a nasty bout of amnesia a while back! And it turns out that hitting yourself in the head with books does not help. Remember that, in case you ever get amnesia! …Wait."

"Okay, fine, you're Morgan," Severa sighed. "With a dumb ramble like that, there's nobody else you could be."

"Yes! You believe me!" He fist-pumped. "Morgan: two, time travel: zero! …My first point was beating Grima."

"…On the other hand, my Morgan isn't such a creep to girls," Severa snarked. "Mister 'I'm-gonna-stare-at-you-for-like-a-minute.'"

"Am I a creep?" Morgan asked, grinning wryly. "Or are you just looking for a reason to dislike me, because suitors have been nothing but pigs to you in the past?"

Severa blinked, surprised. The question hit home.

She slowly scowled. What a jerk! He knows the other me, and thinks he can just use that knowledge to get under my skin?

"As a matter of fact," she began, hoping a comeback would come to her: but her wit failed. "Shut the hell up."

Morgan chuckled. "Come on, Severa. Let's just talk like normal human beings, okay? Trust me, I already know how great you are. You don't need to put up this whole act."

"Hey! I am not your timeline's Severa, okay?!" Severa snapped. "You think you know me, but you don't!"

Morgan sighed. "…I'm sorry, Severa. You're right. I just… it's really great to see you again."

"What are you even talking about," Severa muttered. She turned away. "We're done here."

"Wait!" Morgan exclaimed. His smile was finally gone, and he had fear in his eyes. "D-Don't go. Please."

"Beg all you want, you'll—"

"She died," Morgan said, grave for once. "She… she's dead."

Severa slowly turned around. Her scowl fell away.

"S-Severa died in the final battle," Morgan said quietly. He looked at the ground. "Versus Grima, she… she saved me."

A number of stinging retorts crossed Severa's tongue, but she bit them all back. Instead, she settled for the much more tactful, "…Why?"

Morgan's eyes watered. He smiled regardless. "W-We were… together," he choked. "She went out by blocking one of Grima's Expiration fireballs. I-It should've been me, but she was… she was faster, and… the more devoted of the couple, evidently." He shook his head. "I'm not sure if it's irony or not, but it's definitely some kind of cosmic thing that our one and only casualty, ever, was in the endgame. The home stretch."

Severa was quiet.

"So, yeah." Morgan smiled again. "I just wanted to talk to you again, y'know? It's been so long. I missed you."

Severa processed Morgan's words; her eyes narrowed. "So, what am I, a replacement to you? You think, just 'cause the other Severa liked you, I would too?" She put her hands on her hips. "News-freaking-flash, buddy: we've all lost people. You aren't some special snowflake who gets, ooh-ah, a shiny new replacement girlfriend, just for telling some sob story." She scoffed. "Honestly, kid, you had a better shot at me before saying all that nonsense."

Morgan sighed. "Should've known. Sorry, Severa, I knew that story wouldn't work, but I kinda got caught up in the moment. Didn't mean to make you mad."

"I'm not mad," she said. "You don't want to see me mad. Just thought I'd give you some advice: girls aren't really into tales of woe."

"Eh. Gotta give me some credit for trying, though?" Morgan winked. "I mean, this isn't an ordinary girl we're talking about."

"No. No credit. And if pick-up lines worked, Inigo would be crawling in girls, so don't try them anymore."

"C'moooon," Morgan said. "I'll go stir you up some tea right now, and you can tell me how bad I am at picking up girls. I might even throw in a raisin tart or two—I know how much you love those."

"I hate raisins," Severa stated.

"So you think. My tarts convert you to the dark side."

Severa rolled her eyes. "…Fine, if it gets you to shut up. One cup of tea. But no raisin tarts."

"Two raisin tarts it is."

"One."

"Fine. You'll be begging me for more, anyways."

Morgan led the way, his heart threatening to burst from excitement. It's Severa! It's… It's really her!

"Why the hell is Gangrel here?!" alt-Chrom shouted. "I-Is he an Einherjar, or something?" He turned to the main party. "Explain!"

"Listen," Chrom said pacifyingly. "He survived his apparent death, and not long before the end of the war, we found him in a remote location, all but resigned to dying in the gutters. I told him, if he's going to throw his life away, throw it at Grima instead of at nothing."

"C-Can confirm," Gangrel added. He laughed at the alternates' expressions. "Ha! I had the same look on my face when he told me that!"

"Don't speak to me," alt-Chrom snarled. "Chrom, you realize this is Gangrel, right? The Mad King? He murdered our sister—it's his fault that Emmeryn died!"

Chrom hesitated. "You… You didn't recruit Gangrel, and you never found…?" He trailed off. "Chrom, after you performed the Awakening ceremony at Mount Prism, what did you do?"

The alternate Chrom blinked. "We… headed straight for Origin Peak and started the final battle, of course. Grima was awake: we had no time to waste."

Chrom took a breath. "Another difference."

Alt-Chrom and Robin exchanged a glance. "Alright, Chrom, enlighten me then. What's this difference?"

"Naga trapped Grima in place," said Chrom. "We had several months to finalize preparations, and we gained six recruits, most of whom were former enemies."

"Really?" said Robin. "Who else?"

Morgan counted on her fingers. "Well, there was Gangrel. Then there was Walhart, and Yen'fay, and Aversa. I guess you guys wouldn't know Priam—he was the last one we recruited." She brightened. "Oh! And how could I forget—"

"Hold on," Chrom said, growing a smile. "Let's… Let's show them, instead."

Emmeryn had the most vivid case of déjà vu. Reuniting with Chrom, all over again. (At least this time, she had Frederick by her side, rather than braving their reactions alone.)

"Y-You… you… you were alive…?" alt-Chrom breathed. He raised a hand, gently brushing her cheek—identically to how the other Chrom had, almost a year ago. Where Emmeryn had turned away last time, she instead placed her hand atop her alternate brother's, smiling.

"I can't believe it," Robin muttered. "D-Did we… did we do everything wrong?"

"Stop blaming yourself," Chrom said sternly. "I don't know you that well, but if there's one thing Robins have in common, it's that you all just love to shoulder the blame. It's not your fault."

"B-But—But—" Robin's eyes widened. "What if she's still alive in our timeline?! Where did you say you found her?"

Chrom raised a quieting hand. He glanced aside at his mesmerized duplicate, whose hand would not release Emmeryn. "Let's… talk about this outside, okay?"

Chrom gestured for the others to follow; they slowly filed out after him. Emmeryn nodded at Frederick, and though he seemed reluctant, he also left. Soon, the tent was empty save for Emmeryn and her brother from a different timeline.

Slowly, the alternate Chrom dropped his hand. "Emm… I never thought… I…" He shook his head, laughing at his own stupidity. "Sorry for getting all, uh… emotional."

Emmeryn giggled. "Emotional? Hee hee… I don't see any tears."

Chrom rolled his eyes, smiling.

Emmeryn focused. "Chrom… something you need to know is that I… I'm not how I was."

Chrom frowned.

"I don't remember anything," she admitted. "After I… I 'died'… I lost all my memories. They never recovered… and they probably never will."

Chrom noted her manner of speech—that slowness was definitely a new development.

Even if she survives, she's still not whole, he thought grimly. "Are you okay with that, Emmeryn?"

"Yes," she said, smiling. "The road was very long, and very hard… but it all worked out in the end. I've made so many new memories with my family… I love them all so much." She turned serious. "But… Chrom… if you did find your Emmeryn again… you would have to resign yourself to the fact that… she would not be the same person."

"I wouldn't care," Chrom said. His eyes slowly began to water. "Emm… you don't know what I would give to have you back."

"Oh…" She held out her arms, and Chrom walked into the hug. Emmeryn stroked his head dotingly. "Don't cry, dear…"

"I-I miss you," Chrom choked. "I miss you so much, Emm…"

"I know…"

Robin placed her hands on her hips. "The remote village, you said?"

"Yep. The one on the island south of Valm. For us, they messaged us for help last November—about a month before we fought the final battle."

Robin's heart fell, and she nodded. "For us, the final battle was in October… October eleventh, if I recall."

"The day after beating Aversa at the base of Origin Peak," said Chrom grimly. "That lines up well. Instead of moving to the peak to fight Grima immediately, we left."

"We received the same distress call after the war," said Robin dejectedly. "We fended off some Grimleal remnants attacking that village in November." She sighed. "…Emmeryn wasn't there."

Chrom grimaced. "I'm sorry, Robin."

"It's okay." She forced a smile. "Thanks anyway."

"I have a question, myself," said Chrom, crossing his arms curiously. "How… How did you and Chrom get together?"

Robin smiled. "Oh, that? Heheh… That's kind of an embarrassing story. I sort of had a crush on him as soon as we met, and—keep in mind I was young and immature three years ago—whenever I set up tactics, I always had him fighting next to me. We built up a synergy that soon appeared off the battlefield, too."

Robin neglected to mention her other manipulations, including a certain time she "accidentally" left her tent flap open while bathing, knowing her object of affection would pass by… Oh, well. All was forgiven by this point, certainly—when she had confessed the truth long ago, her husband had simply said, "Everything worked out, didn't it?"

"Huh," Chrom said. "Interesting. I wonder if our Robin ever…"

Robin turned to Morgan, who seemed distracted by a butterfly. "Morgan, right?"

Morgan snapped awake, facing Robin. "Y-Yeah, what's up?"

Robin smiled warmly. "So… you're my daughter in another timeline?"

"I guess?"

"I love your hair," Robin said. Hesitantly, she reached for Morgan's hair, and stroked it. "…It's Sumia's…"

Morgan shifted uncomfortably.

"Where is Sumia, by the way?" Robin asked.

"Ylisstol," Cynthia answered quickly. "We met an alternate Grima who kinda… beat her up." She gestured with her cast. "Beat a lot of us up."

"Really?!" Robin turned back to Morgan, concerned. "So that's a black eye? I'm so sorry!"

Morgan pulled away from Robin's grip uneasily. "Th-Thanks…? Hey, Chrom!" She pointed her thumb over her shoulder. "I forgot, we had… uh… something to talk about. Remember?"

Chrom blinked. "Um—yeah. Yeah, sure."

He followed Morgan away.

Now on the outskirts of camp, far from any prying eyes, Morgan put her hands on her hips. "Whew! That was awkward. Thanks, Captain."

"Anytime? …Oh!" Chrom nodded. "This is about the Einherjar, isn't it? We should try resurrecting Marth and Caeda."

"Um—" Morgan nodded hastily. "Sure, that works!"

"Good. I'll go get Lucina, and—"

A third voice interrupted: "Oh, there you fellas are!"

Old Hubba approached, beaming. "I couldn't find ya anywhere! Good ta see you're alright." He frowned. "Hope you're not still plannin' on rescuin' Caeda."

Chrom winced. "A-Actually—"

Old Hubba waved it away. "Oh, whatever! We'll talk about that stuff later. Anyway, I've actually got some more Einherjar for you guys ta find. Out in the plains of Jungby, there's a good number of 'em—all lead by an old legend named Sigurd." He beamed. "So whaddya say? Up for it?"

Chrom and Morgan exchanged a glance.

"Sure…" Chrom said slowly. "But, Old Hubba, there's a few things we have to tell you first. And… you aren't going to like it."

Next time:

Chapter 6 – Future Children

Author's note:

The original plan was to give everyone in the alternate party a different name, instead of putting 'alt-' at the front. Needless to say, I dropped that damn fast, on account of it being a dumb idea (for the purposes of this story) and definitely not realistic for so many alternate characters.