Welcome back to Time Wanders On! Take a seat real quick, and I hope you enjoy your stay. I'd like to thank anyone who has given this a taste, and maybe you'll stick around! Please, if you haven't already done so, please review. I'm pretty nervous, this being the first thing I've written in years now. I appreciate your time and possibly future patience. BTW I already hit 206 views, and my mind is blown by the idea of that. Thanks to gokart58,after your review and some serious consideration, I have decided once this is finished, I shall make a more long term story of Robin and his journey of self-discovery. AND its possible this may become longer as well.

ANYWAYS! I GOT OFF TRACK! Let's get started from where we left off.


Ylisse Castle Grounds

Cynthia pranced happily with her mother Sumia towards the Pegasus' Holding Grounds, ready for yet another lesson of flying and mount maintenance. Sumia smiled and giggled at her daughter's giddiness. She had a lot of her own passion for the beautiful creatures. Some of the natural talent as well.

"Will Lady Cordelia be joining us today mom?!" She saw her daughter struggling to contain that excitement, practically shaking frantically in place. Sumia tilted her head in amusement.

She shrugged at her daughter, but that didn't even change her mood. "I don't think so. She's suppose to checking on Chrom to make sure he doesn't get lost."

"I thought that was OUR job!" Sumia laughed at the peerless face that greeted her.

"Its not too bad sweetie. Look at it this way," she waved a finger in front her of her daughter's face. "We still have those pies covered." Cynthia squinted her eyes at this, fist pumping as they continued their march, shouting something along the lines of 'Victory pies.'

They ran into good ol Iron-Wall Frederick checking in with his recruits in the barracks, with him at the ready right at the door, bowing to the Queen and youngest princess in his full armor. Such a feat was common and not entirely unexpected, but it still amazed. Cynthia's gasp in awe, evidence of this claim.

"How does he DOOO that, mom?" Cynthia began poking the giant metal man like an infant child, a habit she shared with Little Lucia. "Wooaahh." Frederick coughed, causing the Flier in progress to become startled and gasp as she jumped back, looking up at him from behind her mother who held a hysterical laugh. This action causing the fearsome man to let out a heavy snicker. He nodded at the Queen.

"Milady. I trust everything is going well." He looked back down as Cynthia was once standing up straight, he hands at her hips as she rose her chin. "And you as well Princess Cynthia." The young lass beamed at the mention of her title, nodding up and down in a manner that could possibly break her neck it was so...Cynthia.

"We're off for another lesson in the importance of keeping our lovely anges fed and groomed for perfection." Sumia closed her eyes in satisfaction. "And to make them as gorgeous as Naga forbids." Frederick the Wary raised an eyebrow, but left it to lie. No bother asking unnecessary questions with no solid answer.

"As you wish. Let me or the other servants know if you require extra hands or the like." Sumia brushed it off with a wave as her daughter continued onto their destination ahead of her mother. The queen bowed respectfully as she was met with a similar response, rushing to keep up with Cynthia.

"Now to find Lucina to see how she's been taking things in stride."

Before anything else could be said or done, a sound resembling some sort of like an explosion was heard from what seemed to be deeper into the castle. If Frederick could guess once, he'd say the castle training grounds. If he could take a better one, he'd start leaning towards to the sparring circles within said training grounds. And if wanted to flat out make a direct assumption on who it was...well.

He'd probably be right.


That primal strike had caused that sound that awfully mimicked that of an explosion caused a shockwave of catasprohic proportions. With the same amount of energy that was the cukprit seeping and lingering from the aftermath. The whole was bathed in raw magic, it was felt by both parties. As Morgan's energy faded, she was faced with having to take the brunt of Aether's second attack. She was easily thrown back, the sheer force breaking her wooden sword into splintering pieces. Lucina's didn't look to good itself, the handle looking like it had been crushed in the panting princess' hand.

Lucina felt the air, the leftover potency of their divine ancestral power almost gave an unworldly texture to the atmosphere around them. It was tangible. She felt as if she'd have met resistance if she attempted to walk ahead. It was breathtaking. She swore she could almost taste it.

She cleared her head, breaking free of her trance to go check on her daughter, who was sprawled out all over the floor. Fearing the worst, she ran up beside and placed her head on her heart to hear a racing heartbeat. Bless the gods, she didn't get too hurt. It'd have been devastated.

The random crazy outburst of laughter from below her ear caused her to let out a girlish squeal as she jumped back, terrified and slightly shaking. This only caused Morgan to laugh even harder. Lucina couldnt help but blush from embarrassment as she looked away. This was worse than that spider.

"Hahahahahaha! OH GOSH! That was awwweesome." She looked at her mother standing to her right, with a grin that seemed huge, even for her. "When can we do that again?!" Morgan just went back to closing her eyes, no intent of getting up, that was for sure. Almost seeming to be relaxed, if Lucina dared to say.

Lucina eyed her daughter, then decided that they couldn't exactly bolt after that sort of "incident". She sat beside Morgan, wondering how this crazy blue haired vixen of a child could be smiling after what happened. I mean, their inner turmoil was now practically solid right now, laying over the battleground like a mist in the morning.

How do I even go about explaining it. That it was overdue? Hell, should I thank her? Its been ages since I got some release from all this...this-

"You said that umm...technique came back to haunt you. What...what did you mean by that?" The princess didn't bother turning her head, let out another sad dramatic sigh. Her peripherals allowed her to see that Morgan's demeanor hasn't changed, still having that a lazy smile. "I thought it was pretty clever."

Our favorite blue haired princess let out a chuckle that wasn't as forced as the others she had let out that night, looking to crush that smug look on her daughter's face, she felt the corners of her smile threathen to curl. "You still never landed that hit."

Seeing her eyebrow twitch, as well as that once smug looking expression caused her to go into a small fit of laughter. Hearing this, Morgan let it return as she left her eyes closed in peace, and allowing her mother to continue harassing her. Went as far as poking her in the ribs. That cursed woman.

"Hehe." She wiped the tear as her laughter died down. "Huh, your father did something very similar as you just managed to pull under my nose when I was in battle with him and his friends." This peeked the strategist's interest, causing her to look up and make eye contact with her mother, that expression of playfulness and...well. 'Morgan'.

"You mean to tell me you saw dad do what I just managed to come up with at random?" Morgan laughed, hands on hips. "As great as he was, he probably couldn't pull it off. I think I'm finally started to live up and beyond to his legacy."

"You always have." The mood grew solemn, the air gaining weight after just being cleared of that remaining residue of their little match. They made eye contact once more, and Morgan saw both that perpetual sadness, but also what she thought she could call 'nostalgia'. Lucina looked up as she recalled that battle t her eager blue haired monstrosity.


"What! How did you?" I ignored him as he stood there, gaping at the carbon copy of his own royal blade, Falchion. "There's no waayy..."

We charged at once, and if I knew my father, he was about to try to close line me with that leap-roll attack he loved to open with in his sword-clashes. I stopped mid-stride as he took flight. As he came down, I nonchalantly blocked him with no effort and counters with a swipe to his midsection. He slid his sword in the way, golden sparks leaving both blades as they ran against one another.

"Well...this will be a whole lot easier than I thought it'd be." I found myself thinking as Chrom moved his way back away from me. "I may have to tone it down a bit, I guess. Very well."

"Where did you learn to fight like that." I allowed myself to shed a single tear as I found myself once again regretting to wear this god-awful itchy mask.

Clearing my throat as to hope it'd stop it from possibly cracking, I lifted Parallel Falchion and left it diagonal to my face as I attempted to seem intimidating, or more or less NOT a woman.

"My father!" And so began the next attack on the swordsman I received both name, title, hair, and sword of legend from. The same one who trained me. I could definitely see the flaws he hadn't corrected yet in his posture and his form. If I could parry a blow instead of blocking it, his recovery was slow and torturous. If this were a real fight to the death, it would have been over seconds after it began.

I half-spun quickly to the right, spinning as the magic blade was left at my side, returning it to its resting place against its brother, or technically itself as she stopped. I was surprised at how much he was struggling with this. Like he was...distracted. Like his eyes were trained on someone else.

"Sumia!" Hearing mother's name made me halt momentarily, looking back behind me I saw mother in her foretold majestic grandeur, her hair flowing as she brought her lance into one of the mages on the field, not noticing the Knight reading his javelin for that perfect shot.

I scoffed, as much as I wanted to intervene. I couldn't. I had to pretend it didn't crush my heart. That it didn't almost completely ruin me watching as that Man of War threw that dreaded piece of sharpened metal at her, and based on the trajectory, it was bound to her dead straight in the back. A lethal wound that would be fatal if it connected.

Right as 'Marth' was to shake it off and finally save my apparently helpless mother, a stray Wind spell knocked it out mid-air, as Iron-Wall Frederick pounced on Sumia's attacker, his Silver Lance not even seeming to care at the obvious amount of sheer inches in metal. After turning back to father, and giving him an abrupt kick to the stomach, knocking him onto his back, I pointed my blade at him.

"The battlefield is no time for distractions. That's why you lost." He eyed me, his gaze making me uncomfortable. "Its your own fault. Yours alone," I finished.

Chrom groaned in anger as he brought himself back up by pushing himself on his legs and jumping back up for what seemed to be another go. As he turned his blade in his hand, he channeled his anger into his next attack, which was easily deflected. He wasn't thinking clearly. He almost seemed like he had no real experience.

"Maybe that's what happens when you know his every move from training with his future self AFTER he became a master swordsman"

More sparks were flung through the air as I finally started to build up a sweat. It seemed I was finally starting to lose that edge I had due to my low amount of stamina. I had to end thid quickly. Maybe father was mean to lose.

Being knocked yet again to the side, groaning as he struggled against his sword as he tried to use it as some sort of leverage to get him back on his feet. Suddenly, I strange man came after finishing off one of my comrades for the match. Those men were so useless really anyways. Chrom was helped up by this strange man in a huge cloak that I could tell was foreign. He removed the hood from his face, revealing his white unkempt hair and solid green eyes, which seemed to be sizing me up. He turned at me,taking his sweet time examning me carefully and cautiously, but also as if I saying "You're gonna regret that." I found myself glaring as well. He looked hardened and experienced. Yet I couldn't connect a name with the face. Or the apparel. Why was a man with a coat of arms that I could have sworn was hailed from Plegia, among their numbers?

"I see you may need some assistance," the man said as he pulled out his sword, the tome of that previous Wind spell still in his hand. The bronze blade and weak spell must be all he had left. Why was I worried?

"Alright. I guess its my turn to have it." He brushed hair out of his face, making his eyes some in dead contact with mine. He smirked a little easily formy liking. "Time to tip the scales!" He was the first to move, obviously having the confidence that this would be easy for him. I was left waiting for the eventual clash of their blades. He definitely carried his weight, parrying instead of blocking. There was a sort of desperation from this first contact between us. Like I could almost see a part of myself in him.

An uncertainty, but one that brought action instead of fear. Like he had no choice. But he chose to make it instead. As our blades locked , I made sure not to give him any advantage or let him find a weakness. His sense of will intensifying, his efforts were becoming more precise. As if he was testing me. And was merely observing how I fought and handled him. His attacks became less varied. He would change patterns if one refused to bring to light any effectiveness.

This man had obscene amounts of will power, I could feel it through our very souls shoving against one another in this heated arena match. We both pushed back against one other, space finally being made between us. I didn't let myself stop,I couldn't let him know I was starting to falter. We both came back once more with each of us having a renewed assault. The cloaked man fought with an air of security, like he has always fought like this. Each swing easily rectified if I managed to dodge it, turning his blade in his hand to bring back around, leaving me in a defensive state. His attacks seemed to have been planned on...years ago. Like he had trained himself to counter every attack and parry every blow that I could manage. Is this how her father had felt just now?

I was woken from my...slight stupor to him once again in my face. Our muscles were stressed, as either of us seemed to really be going to knock the other back. I found myself searching his green eyes, seeing his white hair in his eyes, not hiding his will to win. To avenge Chrom's honor. Well. I guess I could label it as more of an ash color really. I shockingly admitted to my I admired those same eyes that came just now as a curiosity to me. Why was I suddenly focused on this enigma of a man.

I wasn't entirely expecting or ready for the sudden headbutt as he bashed his skull into my mask. I grunted out my pain, clutching my mask that had just pushed against my face in full force, as I was sure that it left some sort of bruise, or possibly an imprint. I looked back angrily at my opponent with a glare I found myself wanting him to see.

But his expression had completely changed.

He shared the blush I just know felt had found its way on my face from earlier, thinking it was from the stress of battle. His mouth was left open, big enough for a full sized griffon to make its nest in the opening. He seemed to be uttering something, I couldn't put my finger on what however. Then I stood there baffled as realization hit me.

"My...my voice. He must have heard it. He must have." I dug deep into my energy reserves, reminding myself not to make a single noise as I brought down my blade once more, embarrassment and shame with pain and fury. He had managed to block it, but I used the opportunity to launch that cursed edge into the air. His blade flew from his hand, as I had successfully disarmed him. Victory was quickly approaching.

But before I managed to pull off another blow in succession, he launched a Wind spell at me obviously meant to just give him time, the magic sweeping me back a good few steps as I lost my footing temporarily due to the recoil of the spell. I yelled as I charged once more, noticing him launch another spell at me. He jumped as the words left his mouth, his hand already back on his sword, having caught it in mid air. I cringed from the sharp wind as it slowed me down, lowering my sword as it broke my intended finisher. With a battle cry that roared like a call of thunder, I looked to see this battle born mystery man bring down the axe on me, managing to bring up my sword only in attempt to save my life.

I found myself being kicked much like my father had felt my own foot just moments ago. I groaned in agony, my armor having pinched my back, probably breaking skin. I was seconds from ripping off my mask when I remembered where I was. I heard a cough, making me stir. I opened my eyes to see a hand held out before me. None other than the man who just shamed my battle techniques on whim. I starred back at him, still finding him a wild-card in this place. He beckoned me, looking for a response no doubt.

"That was quite a fight." I brushed myself off after he helped me up, only giving a nod as my one-cent. "You had me going for a couple seconds." He scratched the back of his head, a sheepish look crossing his features. He saw that I wasn't amused, his shoulders lowering in defeat. "Alright. I thought I was done for."

"That man needs some serious training if he plans to lead," I commented heartlessly as possible. "He's no better than first time enlistees."

"I don't think so. I think you just had more rigorous training. No one trains a man or woman to fight with everything they got and more." I fidgeted as I heard the 'woman' part. He held his hand out.

"Name's Robin. I'm glad you didn't kill me." He gave me a genuine grin reaching the edges of his face. "Well...not entirely anyways.