10Chapter 1
The fields of Southtown were beautiful this time of year. Spring was in full blossom, showcasing sunlight dancing through the trees and flowers poking their heads above seas of grass. Livestock, scattered across the field, grazed like no tomorrow, with the various noises of cows, pigs, goats, and more ringing together to create an odd sounding orchestra.
One such animal, a sheep, meandered over to an untouched spot of grass. Noticing nothing else in the immediate vicinity, it stomped its feet and bleated in pleasure. Dipping its head down, it slowly tore out a chunk of delicious flora, and raised its head to chew-
-only to be interrupted by a loud thwack! from below it.
The sheep looked down to see an implement of some sort, one of its two sharp sides buried in the ground while its handle quivered with released fury. The mammal looked back up to see the rapid approach of four other mammals, previously hidden by an old tree. She stared at their approach, still chewing, and uninterested.
Until the realization hit that most of them had glinting objects in their hands, and they weren't slowing down.
The poor sheep let the half-masticated grass fall from her mouth as she baa-ed in terror. The first approaching animal leapt over the fleecy obstacle, dark coat trailing behind him, and fired off a yellow, crackling bolt. The sheep froze when the bolt shot over her, and flew past the other three mammals as they thundered by, screaming.
"Git over 'ere, ya slippery bastard!"
"Lookie here, we've gotta runner!"
"And a rich 'un too, jes' lookit them fine robes!"
"Ha-HA! Yer right, this 'un's got some gold to spare! Let's take 'im out to- HWAAARGH!"
One of the animals –a man- was cut off when a charged ball punched his face and threw him off his feet, rolling roughly to the ground.
The offending mammal grinned when he heard the surprised shouts of the other two bandits, and tightened his fingers around a thunder tome. Panting hard, he sprinted through the plains, grey hair already in a tumble as the quick crunches of rougher plants underfoot replaced the sounds of more edible grass.
He had to admit, this was not exactly the reception he'd imagined when his body had turned to purple haze on top of a monster, hearing his family cry "Robin!" But he couldn't complain now.
He was back!
"Ya son of a bitch! Take this!"
The small axe that whirled by Robin's face was an effective attention grabber. He tilted his head, and the axe whished by and hit the ground with a thud, accompanied by a displeased grunt. A squawk soon followed when the tactician discharged another projectile.
He narrowed his eyes at the sound of his miss, still huffing heavily as he pumped his arms. I can't do this forever. They'll catch up sooner or later, and it'll be game over for me with a two on one match like this.
Let's see… he mused, ducking another thrown axe. Three men, armed with axes… low precision, but high damage. He sidestepped yet another. The logical response is to minimize their hit rate, and thus damage, even when impossible to attack at range.
Strategy in mind, Robin snapped his tome shut and shoved it in its holster on his waist. Drawing a bronze sword with a schhing, he spun to face the still-rushing bandits. One hesitated at the sudden stop, but threw his last hand axe after a moment, while the other drew a crude wooden toy, cheap appendage taped on to-
…Wait, was that an axe? Yeesh. Most bandits had some standards, at least. Who were these guys?
Dealing with the immediate problems first, the swordsman dropped down, letting the weapon arc over his head. The thrower cursed, but also slowed down to draw his other weapon.
Robin smirked. That was the only opening he needed.
The grandmaster surged forwards, sword flashing up and down to open calculated gashes on the nearer man. He tumbled back with a moan, but Robin ignored the noise, tacking back. The last man's eyes widened as he realized that he was flying solo now, and he hastily drew his axe into a defensive formation.
It didn't help much. Robin's simple sword sliced through the wooden base of the axe and continued through, past the bandit's leather padding and cutting into his flesh. Letting out a strangled gasp, the bandit stumbled, and looked up with a growl-
-just in time to see a boot take up his entire field of view. Robin's foot smashed into his face, and he toppled like a bad tower.
Chest heaving with exertion, the tactician lowered his foot back to rest and wiped the blood off his sword on the grass. Surveying his work on the unconscious (and/or possibly dead) bandits, his lips pulled back into a smile. Maybe he'd been gone for who-knew-how-long, but he still had it!
His little internal party was quickly crashed by the sound of leathery wings beating in the distance, and a snarl in the air above.
Robin whirled around to see a wyvern in full dive, talons extended to create the first ever Robin skewer. Leaping backwards, he evaded the powerful claws by a hair, only to pivot frantically to avoid the swing of a poleax, courtesy of the wyvern's rider. The axe buried itself into the earth, and the rider groaned a little.
Never one to miss out on a golden opportunity, Robin shoved his sword down in a very Chrom-like maneuver and flipped his book open. As he muttered an incantation, sparks danced across his fingers, and the wyvern rider dislodged his axe. He turned with a glower, but Robin's bolt was freed with a flick, and the rider ate a lifetime's dosage of lightning. Shrieking, he catapulted backwards off his wyvern and onto the fields.
Reptilian eyes shot fully open, and before Robin could react, the man's draconian partner turned quick enough to shear the grass underneath it. It jumped after its rider, smashing the ground in haste and covering him with scaly wings, snarling at the dark-robed threat.
Robin raised an eyebrow as he lowered his hand. Most wyverns were very solitary creatures, but bonded strongly with an 'Alpha' (usually a rider) after several years. However, the swordsman had rarely seen the phenomena with anyone outside of the Shepherds, and since the 'man' currently being protected looked no older than sixteen…
Just what the hell had happened while he was away?
He reached down to pluck his sword out of the earth, eyes still glued to the rumbling beast, and shoved his book back in its holster. Skirting around the beast, sword raised, he watched as the animal followed his movements with its head and neck, leaving the body to cover the boy.
This gave Robin a full view to the brand on its side. It was the Plegian coat of arms: the six eyes of Grima. But it was different than normal, with a slash cutting through the mark's symmetry. A marking like that usually signified someone who'd broke an army law, but it was usually placed on the forehead of wyvern and rider alike. So for them to so brazenly place the marking in an unorthodox place with no hiding…
Were they a renegade Plegian faction?
"There! The tactician!"
"It can't be, look at him! Him, idjit!"
"Well, whoever the hell he is, he jes' took out four of us. He's about to get real cozy with this 'ere axe!"
Robin barely registered their words as three heavy thumps jolted him. He turned to find three wyvern riders eyeing him, duck-billed mouth guards closed and axes drawn. The middle wyvern let out a low grumble and took a step forward, its rider lazily flipping his visor open to fully reveal the same Plegian-traitor mark not branded, but tattooed over half of his face.
"So," the newcomer drawled, "Ya seem to be quite the fighter. Care to tell us why ya hit us?"
"Quite a big assumption you've made there," Robin took a step back. "Would you be surprised to know that you attacked first?"
"With rabble like that?" He glanced back to the still bandits sprawled on the grassy plain. "Nah, not at all. I still think we shoulda kept our recruitin' to the army, 'stead of gettin' bandits too."
"The Plegian army?"
The rider snorted. "No. Whatever shit's left in our country, it ain't Plegia no more. But we're gettin' off track." He squinted down at Robin, a slow grin crawling over his face. "See, ya still gotta answer for knockin' us down. Dunno if I really care who started it, as long as we finish it."
"That can be arranged," Robin muttered, and turned his back on the rider trio. He ignored the angry shrieks of wyverns mixed with war cries as they took to the skies, and instead focused on the maw of the protective wyvern he was currently sprinting for.
Robin didn't know much about wyvern bonding habits (certainly not as much as Cherche or Gerome). But he was pretty sure that while multiple wyverns could bond with one Alpha, one wyvern couldn't bond with multiple Alphas.
So… hopefully…
The wyvern roared, snapping at Robin as he juked around to its side. His back hit the rough side of the beast just as the other three wyverns hit their dives above, riders clinging onto reins as gravity snatched them and tossed them towards their target.
Fortunately, Robin's gamble paid off.
Wyverns were intelligent creatures (The tactician knew far too many stories about a certain ornery wyvern to say otherwise), but when placed in a situation where their Alpha is in danger, they pushed most logical reasoning aside in favor of protection. So when three potential threats came soaring out of the sky, the remaining wyvern reacted. Violently.
Disregarding the quieter threat pressed against its side, the creature roared its defiance to the others and snapped at them, armored tail flashing upwards. The ligament crashed into the side of a rider's head, and his body fell limply forward. His steed hit the ground hard, though making sure to keep its rider on top, and turned to the other wyvern, bellowing at the offending animal with teeth bared and spittle flying.
Robin was still as the drama unfolded. But he flinched when an axe came spinning by his face, clanging off the wyvern's plating. Swerving in the sky was the tattooed man, furrowed brow combined with crinkled eyes as he redrew his other axe, easily recognizable as a Killer. Robin glowered up, snaking his hand into his robe and brushing against his tome.
However, he was quickly shown why the rider was smirking.
The impact of the hand axe made the Wyvern shielding him snap around with a low growl. It hissed and cracked its tail back, the appendage sweeping under Robin's feet to trip him before grasping him in a bind and chucking him back. Robin twisted ungracefully through the air, mentally cursing at the rider. Smarmy son of a-
The grandmaster smacked against the ground hard. Tome already unclipped from its holster, it slid out and skidded away, taunting Robin with each extra inch. He cursed roughly, accidentally biting a mouthful of dirty grass, but a larger problem reared its head when a now-familiar screech crashed down on him, and claws pounded the ground on both sides.
"Hello, there." The tattooed rider leered at the small man below him and swung his axe. The tactician didn't think as he brought his sword up to block the slower strike of the Killer axe, clearly aimed at his jugular. Sparks flew, and Robin winced and gasped when the full force of the blow strained him.
He brought his other hand up to brace the blade, but the sword slowly began to cut into Robin. Thinking fast, he turned it so that the blunt end was blocking. However, even then the softer metal slowly bent to the harder steel of the weapon and rider.
Robin closed his eyes. Alright… Problem: there is a gods-damned axe to my throat. Solution: Get axe away. Try tilting sword to let the other weapon to slide off-
A whistling cut through the air, and the pressure lifted from Robin's throat. He opened his eyes to see the rider dodge a wicked javelin toss, and looked up as the rider turned.
But while the rider's eyebrows shot up and his wyvern squawked in protest as he tore at the reins, the tactician grinned at a sight for sore eyes.
Galloping forward was a girl with red hair, spiky points slightly downwards as the rider yelled. The wyvern launched itself just in time to miss the sword slash sweeping above Robin's head. Growling at the sky, the woman swiped her sword again in frustration as the beast wheeled around to snarl at the threat on the ground.
"Damn," she spat upwards, before turning her gaze down. "Hey, stranger. Sorry we didn't get here sooner, but-"
She froze when she actually focused on the man still lying below her, and he couldn't help but grin up at her. "Hey-a, Sully!" Robin said with a jaunty wave. "Nice day for a fight, right?"
The distant cry of a scaly animal re-caught his attention. "Sorry," he said, getting up, "Guess it's go time. We'll talk later!" Unable to sheath his bent sword, he tossed it aside and bolted towards his thunder tome, still lying innocently in the field. He snatched it up and crouched, pointing his finger up while an incantation passed his lips. Fingers tingling with energy, he followed the arcs and sweeps of the wyverns with a stiff hand. One stalled, and he involuntarily smirked as he fired.
The bolt followed his trajectory with a slight arc, making heavy contact with one of the two remaining airborne riders. The man rocketed out of his saddle with a scream, one mimicked by his wyvern as it dove after him.
The final rider turned to stare down the small speck of a man on the ground. He flicked his wyvern's reins to begin a dive… but, in his focus, he'd forgotten about the other fighter on the field. A javelin kindly reminded him of that when it found a chink in his beast's armor, sinking in with a slick chunk!
The wyvern wailed as its wings locked up, and rider and animal tumbled from the stratosphere. Holding on for dear life, the man could do nothing as his creature slowed their descent to the fields below, shrieking when its motions caused the lance to dig in deeper. They smashed into the ground at a horrendous angle, the man tumbling free of the bridle and sliding to a halt several meters away.
He immediately looked up, scanning with blurred eyes for his steed. It moaned, and his head snapped over. "Titania!" Shaking, he stumbled forwards, reaching out for her, but was rudely tossed forward by a crackling force. He collapsed over his partner, who groaned at the extra weight, blood trickling out of her injury. A heavy glare settled upon the offending tactician as the man turned to look at him. "You bastard…"
His stare shifted off to the side, and he made an odd gesture with his fingers. "Don't get cocky yet! Now!" he bellowed.
The wingmen were all down, but none were out. So after they'd woken up, it was an effective strategy to call on them to swarm their opposition in a blitz.
Or, rather, it would have been an effective strategy if Robin hadn't already expected it. And if there really were only two people fighting the riders.
The riders dashed forward, some on their mounts, some not. But none expected the arrival of reinforcements as a Shepherd-led scouting party exploded onto the scene. The tactician turned on a heel and blasted a rider-less knight away, just as a brown haired knight thundered by and sliced, the heavy edge of an armourslayer concussing the knight into unconsciousness.
Another rider screamed when the hand holding his reins was pierced with an arrow, and an axe slammed onto his shoulder, dropping the man and stunning the wyvern. A different, recognizable wyvern swooped in, carrying a pink-haired beauty and an archer in spotless clothes. It let the woman snatch her axe, while the man fired an arrow into the opposing animal, before taking off again.
The final rushing rider nearly made it to Sully, but a javelin suddenly sprouted from his chest, a fact he noticed with a gurgle. A pegasus swept down and touched the ground with grace, its brown-haired rider pulling the lance free with a grimace when blood spurted out. She tightened her grip on the reins when a blue-haired man leapt off, booting the falling Plegian in the face before he landed.
The tattooed man hadn't charged. After seeing his comrades pummeled, he stalked back to his injured partner and pulled a lance from a holster on the animal's side. He entered a low stance with a turn, keeping the twin-tipped edge of his Beast Killer high.
Beast Killer?
Oh, shit!
"Chrom!" Robin yelled, causing the blue-haired man to turn. "Get over here, now!"
Most of the group hadn't paid attention to Robin, their focus being solely on the attacking group of riders. But just like Sully, when Chrom turned to Robin, a look of total dumbfounded confusion spread over his face.
The tactician almost groaned. Not now, Chrom!
Then the tattooed man heaved forward, aim directed at the distracted redhead paladin, and the Exalt shook out of his duh moment. He sprinted to intercept (and damn, had Chrom gotten faster since the last time Robin saw him), drawing Exalted Falchion in an orange blaze to hold it low and ready, accidentally slicing the grass below as he went.
Meanwhile, Robin primed his fingers for another thunder, and yelled again. "Sully! Look out!"
The woman turned from her work securing the unconscious (dead?) bandits, and cursed when as she saw the man approach. Whipping out her weapon, she got into a defensive stance as both sides of the battle roared.
Fortunately, the high sides of the wyvern rider's mask prevented some peripheral vision, and he was totally blindsided when a broad-shouldered lord collided into him.
Despite the disadvantage of a sword vs. lance fight, Chrom's surprise attack was incredibly effective. He slashed off the weapon's tip and cut through the metal plating of the rider's chest plate, sending the man backwards with a wince. This put him right in Robin's range.
Speaking low, the grandmaster raised his hand and snapped the book shut with the other. Just as the buildup of energy became unbearable, he let it loose with a yell.
"Here's how it's done!"
That shout completely slackened Chrom's jaw, but Robin put that tidbit to the back of his mind as the bolt flew. It exploded as it landed, charges of electricity flickering outward as the rider collapsed to the ground in a heap.
Robin blew out a sigh and closed his eyes, slowly re-holstering his tome and reminding himself to remove the used pages later. He heard the sounds of cavalry surrounding him, and a small smile crossed his lips as he looked up.
He wasn't expecting the sight that greeted him.
The Shepherd recon group had surrounded him, all right. But it wasn't in a friendly manner. Their weapons were still unsheathed as they lined up in a semicircular formation, one meant for dealing with an uncertain variable in the battlefield. He had taught them that.
"…Guys? Is something wrong?" he asked, hand unconsciously flipping back to touch his tome.
A brown-haired knight, glaring at him, took a step forward to say something, but Sully beat him to the punch. "You knew my name."
Robin quirked an eyebrow at her. "Uh, yeah?"
"How?"
Leave it to the redheaded terror to cut to the heart of the matter. Although the statement left Robin's emotions in a serious state (uneasiness, fear, panic), he forced himself to calm down. "How…?" he repeated. "Sully, I know you."
"Funny, 'cuz I dunno who the hell you are."
"Indeed," cut in a more dignified (if not less sharp) voice. Robin turned towards the brown-haired man as he continued. "Could you tell us who you are? And why you are dressed in the robes of a Plegian Hierophant?"
Robin stared at them as the knight confirmed what Robin had inferred from the paladin.
They didn't know who he was.
They didn't know him.
Robin's mind whirled with questions, the predominant one being… why?
The grandmaster's eyes flicked from Frederick to all over the Shepherds, drinking in details until he was fit to burst. Sully all alone, possibly favoring the lance. Frederick still riding his horse. Cherche and Virion standing close together. Chrom leaning on his sword from the right. And Sumia leaning back.
None of those details were particularly noteworthy… except they were all different from the habits of the Shepherds that he'd known. And who knew, maybe their habits had changed in the who-knows-how-many-years since he had killed Grima. But those changes combined with how they were all staring at him with varying levels of wariness…
"Well, stranger?" Robin looked back to Frederick, who'd let some steel slip into his tone. "Do you have an answer? Or do you have amnesia?"
Robin would've quirked a smile at Chrom's exasperated groan if the situation had been any different. "No to amnesia," he finally replied. "I know my name."
"And that is?"
"…Robin."
There was a beat of stunned silence. Then, a snort. "Sorry, buddy," Sully said with a raised eyebrow and smirk, "You mean to say your name's the same as the Grandmaster of Ylisse?"
"Ye- huh?" Robin blurted. "There's a Grandmaster of Ylisse?!"
"You sure you don't have amnesia?" the blue-haired lord looked at him with bemusement. "This seems awfully familiar to another case that I know of."
"…Yeah, I'm sure. But this Grandmaster… his name's Robin too?"
"Er, no," Chrom said. "Her name. She's my wife."
The grey-haired man blinked once. Then twice. "Your… wife?"
"Yeah," Chrom repeated, "My wife. …It was pretty big international news, I'm surprised you missed it."
"If he missed it," Frederick interjected. "This still seems all rather odd. A little too odd for my liking."
Robin couldn't have agreed more. "…Alright, wait. I assume that you're going to take me back to Ylisse until you determine I'm not a threat, right?"
Chrom and Frederick gave Robin another strange look. "Yeah," Chrom answered. "Why?"
"Do you know someone named Anna?"
Chrom chuckled. "No. I know dozens of people named Anna."
"That's fine. Could you take me to one of them?"
"Perhaps," Frederick cut in. "Could you tell us why you need to see one of the Merchant sisters?"
Robin turned to meet the narrowed eyes of the knight. "Well, if my theory's correct…" he looked back to Chrom. "…Because she's my sister in law."
Several hundred meters away, an ancient tree was splattered red. At the base lay a mass of fleece, its fluffy white stained deep maroon. Sharp growls murmured nearby, alerting some smaller animals to the presence of a wolf, dark gunk staining its feral grin. It raised its leg and urinated on the tall oak, marking its territory, but showing no notice of the gruesome tangle of limbs beneath it.
It looked up at the sound of a wyvern's screech, rolling over the grassland and rebounding off the neighboring tree line. Several moments of silence followed, and, determining there was no threat, the predator bounded through the forest entrance. Finding a small, dried up creek bed, it padded around in a small circle and lay down, running its tongue over sticky teeth as it settled in for a nap; out of sight, and out of mind.
AN: Hey everybody, how's it going? Welcome to Outlands!
This was an idea that I had a while ago now, with the basic premise being: What if, at the end of Awakening, the Robins who chose the "Kill Grima" path (as opposed to the "Put Grima back to sleep" path) didn't wake up back in their universe… but instead, was put in the universe of a whole other Robin? And what if these universes were connected via the Outrealm gate, and the lands that lie within it?
Of course, the idea spiraled out of control from there, and it eventually evolved into whatever you're reading now. And now that you have read it… Did you like it? Did you hate it? Or was it just boring? If you have the time, I'd really appreciate a review or PM telling me what you thought of the story/idea, and/or what you think I can improve on in the future (and what you liked, of course!).
Alright, that's all I've got for you today. (Except for a quick shout out to anyone who found this fic from reading Lateral, you guys are awesome!) Thanks for reading everyone, and see you next update!