A/N I wonder how long this whole thing is going to be. I want to move on to stereotypical fluff and gore, but I also want to fit in angsty development. Oh well. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I don't own Fire Emblem or any of its alternate timeline forms.
Paragraphs in italics usually mean scenes from the past. I just don't want anyone to be confused, so I'm throwing it out there now.
"...ey, is anyone there?"
There was a throbbing in her head and a dull ache in her back. "Mm… I'm here," she called out weakly. She lay propped up against a ruined column. The ground was a solid stone that matched the walls. Here and there, huge cracks marred the otherwise unblemished surface. Surrounded by cerulean and marble pillars of a similar state, the young blue-haired girl had to guess that she was in a temple of some sort.
"Wh-where am I? How'd I end up here?" she mumbled.
The young girl brushed aside her navy locks to rub at her eyes. When she reopened them, she was still here, in an unknown room. Beyond the piles of marble, a man with a similar hair color came into view. In his hands he held a sword, ready to attack, but Morgan felt that she could trust him.
She waved an arm and was greeted with a pleased smile. "Well well well, what's a rare beauty like you doing in these ruins? You don't look like a treasure hunter, that's for sure," he said in a tone that he probably thought was suave, accompanied with a wink.
"...what," Morgan responded blankly. His behavior confused her. Was he… was he hitting on someone he just met?
"Oh, I'm so rude. My name is Inigo." He winked those baby blue eyes again and offered a hand.
She ignored the wink, but used his hand to pull herself up. A small wave of dizziness came over her, but nothing too bad. Must have been from hitting her head earlier. She glanced accusingly at the rubble. "Morgan. Pleasure. Excuse me, but have you seen my father anywhere? I remember that I came here to do something for him, so he must be around here somewhere…"
"No, I don't believe I have. I can help you leave however. If he heard the explosion that happened here, he should probably be outside by now," Inigo offered apologetically. He looked around at the recent destruction. "Was that you?"
Morgan shrugged. "Possibly. I don't remember. I can't really… remember anything. I think I hit my head," she confessed. Inigo whistled, impressed. "I just really need to find my father."
She dusted off her cloak and made to leave, but Inigo stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. "Wait… this fixation on finding your father and your sudden appearance… you wouldn't happen to be from the future too, could you?" he asked.
"The future? As in time travel?" Morgan gave the other man a befuddled expression.
Now, Morgan was not confused. She knew exactly what was going on.
She took a step out, feeling the crunch of grass beneath her feet. The scent of forest and running water met her nose and she took a long, deep breath. Above, the sky was dark, but spotted with stars. The powerful mage eyed her surroundings critically, as was her custom, then sighed. It had been a while since she had encountered so much life.
Her job was to change that.
Behind her, archaic runes continued to glow in a circular pattern. A Risen soldier stepped through, followed by an archer, followed by another melee warrior. Eyes glowing red, they acknowledged their commander before falling into their set formation. Morgan fingered the dark tome that hung from within her coat, just as anxious as the undead in the unfamiliar setting. She closed her eyes.
There was the familiar burning sensation on her back. Master Grima. I am here.
Morgan. You've arrived, said an emotionless voice.
Where am I? When am I?
Southern Ylisse. The image of a map briefly appeared in her mind. He also informed her of the date, and she inclined her head to the side thoughtfully. That early? A memory fell to her of her father's first battles. So it falls to me to launch that attack this time around. I hope you don't expect me to pose as the Risen Chief and die, Father, she mused jokingly. The mark of Grima on her back flared unpleasantly and her demeanor sobered.
In an irritated voice, the Avatar responded, silence, Morgan. Things are different this time. So far, there has been no showing of Adriane, or her, so this will be the Shepherd's first encounter against our soldiers. Morgan. What do you think is best for this battle?
Very rarely the Fell Dragon asked for the tactician's opinions, and only when he was struggling with himself. Father, are you alright?
Keeping her mind neutral and blank, Morgan replied, defeat. This Avatar should have already attached himself to the Shepherds. If we slaughter them in front of him, we can never hope to sway him to our side. I will watch, and I will wait before taking any deviating actions.
Your actions speak of prudence, but is it wise to delay the inevitable? he asked. Impatience. Desperation.
We have no power just yet, Morgan argued. Valm still stands. The Grimleal have not been fully reawakened. Adriane is still missing. I understand your desire to move forward, but we just do not have the resources yet. She caught her reprimanding tone. Master Grima, she added quickly.
Very well. Return to me once your task is finished. You know where to find me.
The connection was severed and Morgan discreetly let out the breath she had been holding. He had listened, and he had followed. But there was time to celebrate small victories later. And privacy, Morgan noted as she felt the red-eyed gazes of the walking dead. The tactician knelt on the ground, picked up a stick, and closed her eyes.
"There was a forest here," she whispered and scribbled in the dirt. "A river." Jagged lines were scratched in. "Small open field… between these and the road…" She left a blank space open and drew a neat line to signify the road. "What I wouldn't give for some flying units," she lamented, glancing at the hard-to-navigate forest.
Crude map finished, Morgan pulled out a hidden tome she kept on her person. Its covers were a midnight black and she knew there was no other like it, at least not yet. As her gloved fingers skimmed over its pages with practiced ease, the tactician raised her head and gave the order.
"All right. Archers, cluster here, here and here," she said in a soft voice. "Fighters, go here. Mages… ha-ha, oh that'll be funny. Yeah, go there. Healers go here." She stopped herself. "No, that's too good. I'll put you somewhere stupid." She placed them in a suicidal position amusedly. Morgan stopped again, reconsidering it, then putting them back into their original position. "If I'm going to throw this battle, I won't go down without a fight." The runes on her tome glowed brightly for a split second before the ink shriveled up into nothingness.
Lastly, Morgan pulled aside a random soldier. "You. You're Risen Chief. Go stand at the back and look important, but don't actually do anything. Well, maybe except yelling some gibberish now and then," she commanded. "Oh, and give me your cape. It's getting kind of cold this season." No response, but it did her bidding.
As her troupe marched forward, Morgan rubbed her hands eagerly. She watched her undead be illuminated by the moonlight. Under the shades of darkness, Morgan could almost take them for humans, but she tamped down the memories quickly before they went anywhere.
The mage's shadow started to flicker as the portal began to shut down. With a weak flash of light, it spluttered and died, leaving only Morgan and one other figure.
Not even looking up, Morgan said casually, "Oh good, you're here. I thought my army was missing one in its number."
It said nothing, as was customary for a soldier, but Morgan was used to it. She tossed the tattered cape at the shuffling creature. "You know your role in all this," she said, tapping the tome and winking.
Once she was sure that she was absolutely alone, the young woman sighed. Feeling a strange sort of melancholy, she murmured, "Father, I've studied up. Let's fight, and see whose strategy prevails."
"Inigo, are you alright? Who are you talking to?" Another person appeared, this time a woman who looked like a mirror of Inigo. Morgan idly wondered if blue was a common hair color nowadays.
"I'm more than fine, now that I've met this pretty girl. I think she's like us-a time-traveler. Do you know who this lovely lass is, sis?" Inigo asked the other blue-haired woman. He draped an arm flirtatiously over Morgan's shoulders. Why was he so friendly? "Lecher," muttered Morgan, and Inigo chuckled. The sound brought a teeny smile to her lips.
Lucina shook her head. "I'm as much in the dark as you. I don't remember a Morgan from our time…" She trailed off, pausing to look at Morgan thoughtfully. "That cloak," she stated, pointing at the article of clothing, "that cloak looks very familiar. Almost like..."
Morgan looked at the soft fabric she wore. Dusty tomes. Snowy-blonde hair. Her face lit up at unexpected memories. "Oh, yes!" she said enthusiastically, becoming a whole other person. "My father gave this to me when I was younger and still learning basic tactics. He told me to grow into it because he wouldn't be needing it anymore. Nice, right? I want to be a tactician like him someday." She gave a twirl for emphasis and the patterned garment billowed spectacularly around her small frame. She missed the shared look between the siblings, or rather, Inigo's surprised smile and Lucina's widened eyes.
"I thought you said you couldn't remember anything other than your name. So you remember who your parents are? Your mother too, maybe?" spoke Inigo amusedly. Morgan stopped. Her mother… the young tactician tried to recall her mother, but it was as if invisible restraints holding her back. She shook her head. "No," she confessed. "Honestly, almost all of my memories are connected to my father only. Why? Do you know who my mother is? And my father? Can you take me to them?" She bounced in excitement and Inigo chuckled. In a not-so-subtle manner, he pushed his sister forward.
"Maybe Lucina here can help."
Though not much taller than Morgan, the princess bent her knees to be at eye level. Meeting the young girl's expectant eyes, eyes that were no doubt his, Lucina smiled nervously. "Well, you see, your mother is-"
Soft steps had been approaching them in the dimly-lit ruins. "Lucina, are you there?" The voice was subdued, but firm. There was an almost tender quality in the sentence. Uncharacteristic, but Morgan could pick that voice out in a crowd. "Father?" gasped Morgan.
Finally, from behind a turquoise column emerged the man of the hour. Upon seeing the group, Robin stood still as a ramrod with his hands in his pockets. "What did you call me?" the Shepherd's tactician asked stoically, all traces of warmth gone.
Morgan was already running to him. "Father!" she yelled happily, launching herself at Robin. She wrapped her arms around his waist. Robin stiffened at the contact, but he didn't pull away. Inigo's brow arched at the reaction, but he kept silent.
"Oh, Father, I'm so happy I've finally found you!" Lucina gave a half-hearted shrug at the girl and motioned for him to listen to her.
Robin gently, but awkwardly, extracted himself from the hug. "So you're my daughter?" he asked curiously. He kept her at arm's length with his hands on her shoulders. Hazel eyes identical to her matching own searched for the truth.
"Yes. My name is Morgan, though if that blatant flirt over there is telling the truth-" Inigo could be heard protesting in the background "-then you wouldn't know me yet because I'm in the past. I can't remember much of anything, really," she mumbled, ashamed at her own ignorance. Robin nodded contemplatively. He seemed to be debating with himself, and after a few moments said, "all right. Let me tell you something."
The white-haired tactician closed the distance between himself and Lucina. An arm casually, possessively wrapped itself around the blue warrior's waist. Aware of their audience, Lucina turned red and stuttered, "R-Robin, I really-" His eyes never left Morgan, but the hand squeezed her side in reassurance.
"This intelligent, powerful, and beautiful woman will be your mother," he dictated, then paused, as if daring anyone to contradict him. Inigo raised his hands in mock surrender and backed away. Lucina remained silent. When Morgan only nodded her head vigorously, Robin continued, "we're not married yet, but we will be after this whole mess of a war is done with. Preferably we'll keep it to less than three kids, one of which was to be named Morgan. Now, I need you to tell me right now-are there any events that jeopardize this future? I recognize the cloak, but if you're lying about who you are, about anything, I will not hesitate to kill you where you stand."
He said all of this so nonchalantly, but Morgan knew her father well enough to know when he was being absolutely serious, even when making death threats. How she knew this was beyond her memory's grasp. She had to answer carefully.
"I… like I said, I don't remember much, so I don't know of any bad things happening in the future…" His eyes narrowed dangerously, and Morgan interjected, "But! I know I was happy. You seemed happy too. I don't think we would feel that way if Mother was gone."
Robin had been staring at her intensely, but his eyes softened once Morgan called Lucina 'Mother.' 'He looks so much younger,' thought Morgan. 'A little less burdened.' Eventually, the older tactician seemed to accept her answer. "Come here,' he called out with a rare, true smile. His free arm was outstretched, welcoming the newest addition to the group.
And, eagerly, Morgan allowed herself to be enveloped in the warmth of her parents.
"And when were you going to tell me of this future, hmm, Robin? What if I didn't want to get married and have kids?" Lucina teased.
"Eheh, Lucy, you know how I like to plan things ahead," murmured Robin. He sounded oddly bashful, a far cry from his seriousness of before. Then he gave a roguish grin and nuzzled her neck. "Besides, you think I'd take no for an answer? You're going to be staying with me forever if Morgan is any evidence!"
The warrior, the tactician, and the proof of their love laughed.
Though he hated to break up such a scene, someone had to. Inigo cleared his throat. Three pairs of eyes darted to the prince as he said awkwardly, "it's different for me because I've suspected this-" he gestured to his sister and her lover "-all along, but…" A pregnant pause.
"Who's going to tell Chrom?"
A/N I'll update soon. I'm getting restless about this plot.