A/N: So…welcome to a weird little side project of mine. This developed out of a conversation with Aura of Twilight (who is genuinely awesome), and well, the results are before you. This story is either going to be in three or six parts….depending on exactly how I decide to divide it up.

Standard Disclaimer: None of this stuff is mine. Wish it was, but sadly, tis not.

"You seem to have a unique talent there Chrom." The voice was not one I familiar with. I groaned, and opened one eye, only to rapidly close it again, due to the beating sun.

It was at that moment that realization sank in. I was not sleeping in my bed. The grass I was laying on, at least I assumed it was grass, was reasonably soft at least. The ground beneath was hard, but nothing that I was truly unused to. A few different wars had left me without much issue sleeping just about anywhere, so the sleeping on grass was not cause for alarm, but my lack of memory as to how I got here was.

"Oh stuff it." This voice was male, and seemed rather exasperated with the situation. I blinked my eyes open again.

"Mom's right!" This voice was close to the first voice, and seemed far too cheerful. "You do have a talent for it."

Three people stood over me. Two of them were obviously related, with matching long, dark purple hair, and angular, but alluringly beautiful faces. Sharp grey eyes surveyed me. The rest of the two woman was obscured by long purple cloaks, stitched in intricate runes, and waving about in the slight breeze.

They flanked a man wearing the garb of a nobleman, if only one sleeve. An elaborate tattoo was upon his bared shoulder, and a familiar hilt adorned his hip.

"Good morning!" The younger of the two woman smiled at me as I opened my eyes and slowly sat up. "I can't imagine that was a terribly good sleep."

"Morgan!" The other woman, chided. "Be nice." She turned to me, with a relatively warm expression and guarded eyes. "I apologize for waking you." She gave a slight bow.

"It is no trouble." I frowned, looking about. A green field stretched outwards, in the distance, a small forest, and a town. With a sinking feeling, it was becoming apparent that I had no clue where I was. "If you don't mind, I appear to be rather lost. If you could give me some idea where I am, I would appreciate it."

All three of them exchanged looks. The youngest, Morgan gave a brief nod, and vanished in a twirl of lightening and magic. The man gave a bit of a long suffering sign, as if I had said something that he had heard a thousand times before.

"Of course." He told me, offering a hand. I accepted it, standing slowly, and then jumping when something thumped against my leg. Glancing down, I realized that Falchion was at my hip, making me frown. Even during the war, I did not sleep wearing my sword. "My name is Chrom. This is Robin, my advisor, tactician, and friend." The aforementioned woman gave me a nod, her hands vanishing into the cloak that surrounded her.

"It is a pleasure to meet you." I replied. "I am Marth."

The look the two of them exchanged was one dry amusement, and exasperation.

"That date means nothing to me." Only two hours later, I found myself sitting across from Robin in a tent, eating breakfast, and feeling very confused. The name of the continent I was on, Ylisse, did not ring any bells, and the date even less. Robin seemed utterly unsurprised by that, which I found odd.

"Grima damnit." The woman leaned forwards, rubbing her temples, expression blank, and I was rapidly coming to understand that she was feeling very frustrated with someone, or something, aside from me.

"Grima damnit?" I asked, between bites of food. Whoever the cook was, they were fantastic, and I made a mental note to determine who it was, and thank them. This time, Robin did give me a strange look, which was replaced by a tired expression, before sighing.

"Grima damnit" She repeated. "Naga as well." Leaning back in her chair, Robin considered me. "It seems we need to have a long conversation." Her lips curled in amusement, however it did not reach her eyes.

I frowned. "Why?" I asked. The amusement in her expression struck me as bitter. It seemed to me that all that had happened was I teleported off somewhere, perhaps by Gotoh, or someone else with less savory.

Robin's eyes gleamed. "Based upon what I know, and have learned, and can extrapolate, you have ended up more than two thousand years into what would be your future."

My heart skipped a beat. "What?" I spluttered. Robin expression remained deathly serious, leading me to believe she was not joking. "How? What?" I spluttered, unable to really wrap my head around the idea. Two thousand years into the future? Was that even possible?

"I have no idea how, precisely, and even less as to why." That drew a bit of a sigh out of her. "Which is frustrating. I have asked Morgan to see if Lucina can drag answers out of Naga, who might know." She paused, and my eyes widened, the realization sinking in.

"Naga. As in the Divine Dragon Naga." I repeated. What? Someone communing with Naga? Even did Tiki couldn't do that, so far as I knew.

Robin gave a sharp nod, not even a bit of the motion wasted, which suited her well. "The very same. She is a bit of a bitch, at least to me." Here, another bitter sweet smile crossed her face. "And even moreso to my daughter." So, I was right. Morgan was Robin's daughter. That was good to know, I supposed. Or, at least, explained the visual similarities. "I have made inquiries of the Spirit of Grima, although he called me some less than savory things in the process, but seems clueless."

The amount of information left me reeling. "Who is Grima?" I demanded, not knowing the name. "How can anyone commune with the Gods? Even the greatest of holy men can't do that?" I tried to form more questions but my lips just sort of flapped uselessly.

Robin remained quiet, patiently waiting until I stopped, slumping into the chair, my breakfast forgotten. When I stilled, she leaned forwards, her expression less cold, and eyes sad.

"The relationship we have with Naga is very different than what existed for you." Robin sighed, shaking her head. "Why don't I leave you to finish eating, and then you can come back to the Capitol with us, and we can explain more, and hopefully, I will have more answers for you."

I considered, before nodding. Her proposal was a good one, I supposed. None of us had information. Robin stood, and for a moment, that wall that she seemed to keep up dropped, and her expression became a bit more compassionate, a bit more human.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry." She seemed to want to say more, but settled for just slipping from the tent, her cloak flapping behind her.

The journey to the north crossed many more fields, and rolling hills. As we rode, I watched Robin and Chrom closely, Morgan having departed already.

They were close friends, that much was obvious by the way that Robin would gently rib Chrom, or the way that he seemed to exist inside of the shell, projected to the outside world, as though to insulate himself from something. Chrom, however, was not Morgan Father, I suspected, although at this point it was not something I could easily prove either way. What was telling, however was the interactions the two of them had with the ordinary people we encountered.

Both Robin and Chrom seemed to be regarded as heroes by the people we encountered. Neither seemed terribly comfortable with that title, but the people almost worshiped the ground the duo walked on. Robin seemed less comfortable with this than Chrom, who seemed to take it more in stride, but was none the less obviously uncomfortable with being fawned over. However, they both would always talk to the people we encountered, listen to their problems, and occasionally Robin's hands would glow with magic, offering a little bit of help to the people. On these occasions, the people would smile, and cheer, and Robin would always wearing this expression of great discomfort with her situation.

On occasion they would speak of a group they referred to the as the Shepherds, telling the people tales of heroic deeds by other warriors. The people always seemed to bring up references to heroic and great battles that Robin had commanded, or evil men Chrom had slain. Once, when a group of excited children asked Chrom about slaying a man named Walhart, his face had gone just a bit ashen. Robin too, looked askance, her hands drifting inside her cloak, the only obvious sign of her discomfort I had seen yet.

As we left the village, I asked about what had happened.

"There are some people that did not deserve the fate we were forced to enact upon them." Robin's words were toneless, devoid of even the chill I had almost come to associate with her in the short time since I awoke.

I frowned, but did not press the question. It was obviously a sore subject for them both, and I had more than enough memories of that nature, to think pressing the issue was wise.

Chrom, as it turned out, was the Lord of these lands, which explained his introduction of Robin, as an advisor and tactician. I watched him sigh in frustration as his soldiers bowed to him, and gently admonish them that no such gesture was required. A brief flash of relief that I was not the only one who had such problems filled me the first time I bore witness to such an event. Another pang filled my chest, as I realized I might never see my soldiers, my people, again. I caught Robin's gaze, and looked away, trying to hide the lump in my throat. I suspected the woman knew.

"See! I told you!" Morgan's delighted cackle filled the air, as I found myself surrounded by a group of people that was as boisterous as it was eclectic. Robin's daughter capered about, her face alight with manic glee. I tried my best to focus on that, and not on the constant barrage of questions that assailed me. My ears pounded, and I could feel my heartrate build.

"Alright enough!" Suddenly, everything was silent. Heads snapped around, and I even found my gaze drawn in the direction of the speaker.

A young woman, her hair matching Chrom's strode into the room, moving with the same precise air of the man I assumed to be her father. Calm blue eyes swept across the room.

"Hi Lucina!" Morgan bounded over to the new arrival, the only person not struck silent by the command. The now named Lucina gave Morgan a glance before addressing the room at large.

"Let the man breathe, for Naga's sake." She reprimanded a bit. "I thought Father asked you all to leave him alone anyways?"

Sheepish looks flashed across the group, who backed off, muttering apologies. As they did, I pushed back my emotions, realizing with a start that Lucina looked very similar to me, in terms of dress. I vaguely recalled Robin making some remark about how Chrom's daughter had apparently been bitten by fate, or some such, but without context, I had ignored it.

"Prince Marth." Lucina gave me a short incline of her head. "If you would follow me, Father and Robin would like to talk to you." Giving the woman a bit of a forced smile, I nodded. Lucina turned, striding from the room.

Morgan followed, her presence only noticeable due to the swooshing of her cloak. "Sorry about them." Lucina's voice was soft, and metered, giving the impression that she gave great consideration to her words. Her expression, at least what I could see of it, was drawn fairly tight, almost from frustration. "I know they mean well but meeting all of the Shepherds can be…" This time, she faltered over her words.

"Overwhelming." Morgan filled in without pause. "Lucina had it easy." There was good natured ribbing to that. The aforementioned girl shrugged.

"If you call explaining our situation to my Father and your Mother easy." Was the immediate reply. I got the sense this was an old argument between the two.

"I suspect I am missing something." I observed, making both young woman chuckle.

"Hopefully Mother has a way to send you home, and you never have to find out." Morgan's tone was serious, which seemed off based for the previously flighty young woman. I caught the tension in Lucina's eyes at those words however.

Lucina already knew what Robin was going to tell me, I realized. I didn't know how Lucina knew, but Lucina knew. And it wasn't news that Lucina liked. My heart clenched. Somewhere deep down, the realization that I wasn't going home started to form. There wasn't really another explanation.

The rest of the walk happened in silence, and I found myself gripping the pommel of my Falchion tightly.

At last, we stopped before a plain, unadorned office door, which Lucina pushed open without knocking. Inside, at a desk that was absolutely covered in papers, maps, and various other items was Robin, she was pouring over a vast tome that was easily visible over the piles around it, even from a distance. At our entry, she looked up, expression curiously blank.

"Lucina. Morgan. Marth." She greeted each of us in turn. Lucina stepped into the room, slipping around the desk with an ease of long practice to not disturb the many precariously piled items on and around it, and took a seat on the arm of Robin's chair. Morgan meanwhile moved to stand a window relatively near the corner. I took the room's only chair, finding myself surprised by how comfortable it was.

Robin seemed to take a moment to consider what to say. I spoke up first.

"You can't send me back can you? Back home." I asked.

Their faces told all. Lucina's expression didn't change. Morgan's eyes went sad. Robin's jaw tightened.

"Naga doesn't know how you arrived. Neither does Grima." Robin sighed. "Without any idea how you got here, we don't have a way to send you home." There was a pause. "Or any clue how far in time you might have been displaced."

Even though I had been ready for this answer, I still wasn't. My vison swam for a moment, as I forgot to breathe. The Falchion hummed beneath my hand, but I didn't find comfort in that.

I was alone. That realization was slow to sink in.

I was alone, stuck in a strange place, surrounded by heroes of near mythic status in this land. I was a legend to these people, larger than life even by the myths that seemed to surround these Shepherds. I was even more alone than at home, where at least I had my friends. Here, I had nothing.

Again, my eyes swam. Hot tears threatened to spill, and I didn't fight them.

I had been in Ylisse three weeks. I had slept well only half those days, and eaten probably less. They were subtle, but I felt the concerned gazes of Robin and Chrom on occasion. A few of the Shepherds would come and talk to me on occasion. Mostly though, they just left me alone.

I was alone. That was the reality of this situation. I was alone. I had no connection to anyone here, and sometimes it seemed the inevitable wall that had separated me from many back at home existed here. Everyone in that group had suffered through hell together, and that bound them tighter than blood ever could. Few bonds could exceed those forged in the crucible of war. That was something I knew from experience.

Glancing up at the stars, I sighed. Logically, I knew I should go inside, out of the cold. Maybe eat something, or maybe sleep.

"What the hell are you doing up here?" The voice wasn't one I recognized, and I turned a bit to eye the speaker.

Her name, I knew, was Severa. Morgan would occasional complain to me about her, complete with the sort of over the top hand gestures and exaltations I had come to expect from Robin's exceptionally strange daughter. Conversation with Robin herself shed a bit more light, but comparatively little.

"I'm watching the stars." I replied. Severa snorted, glaring at me.

"You're an awful liar." She declared, moving to stand over me. "At least put some effort into your lies." I could see why Morgan got frustrated, as that sort of attitude was rather abrasive.

"I suppose I shouldn't ask what brings you up here then." I challenged, not wanting to discuss what I was doing on the castle roof at midnight. Severa sat down, glare at me.

"God." She muttered. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to tell you." To my surprise, I realized there were tears in her eyes. A silence lapsed between us, as I was willing to wait for her to talk. "Nightmares." She mumbled eventually.

I frowned. Nightmares? For a group that I got the impression had all but walked into hell, I suspected the average run of the mill nightmare would not be cause for disappearing onto the roof. Brief flashes of my own night terrors rose up, the snarling visage of the Dark Dragon as he towered above us, my own screaming when my companions died, only to awaken moments later.

"From your war." The words more closely resembled a statement then a question, but she nodded none the less.

"Yeah." A bitter smile crossed her face. "It's been a while, and yet, the still happen." The bitterness drifted into her tone as well. "I don't understand how I can be so weak."

That made me frown. How did having nightmares make her weak? It had been over a decade since my last war, but on occasion the dreams still came back, especially in the days before I had ended up here.

"The nightmares don't make you weak Severa." I replied at length. She turned, eyes flashing, a snarl of anger on her face. "They don't." My voice was firmer. "It's been ten years since my last war, and I still will wake up screaming on occasion. The sight of Medeus flashed behind my eyes, and I shivered. "There is nothing wrong with having them." I felt a bit of my own bitterness creep in. "It's only human."

Severa stared at me, her expression inscrutable. Uncomfortable, I returned my focus to the stars above. "You sound like Robin and Morgan." She observed after some time. "To wise for your own good." A long sigh escaped her. "Although that makes sense I guess."

A quick glance told me she had taken her focus elsewhere. "And what does that mean." I asked, feeling genuinely curious. Severa shrugged.

"Morgan says that we all have adapted to the hell we lived through different means. Lucina throws herself into protecting others, and hides all her emotions behind that barrier even her own sister barely gets through. Nah just grew up too fast, Yarne lives in fear of his own shadow. Inigo womanizes, Owain has his high fantasy, and theatrics." Her gaze swept out over the city. "Cynthia refuses to let go of her childish ideals of heroism, because it lets her believe that somehow, someway, things will get better. That we can fix it." My heart clenched, and I remembered something Robin had said once, during one of my conversations with her about the people I found myself surrounded by.

They were just children Marth, when their world ended. They were just children, fighting against a god, fighting for their very survival, because that was the only option they were presented. They could either fight, or they could die. And they chose to live, and now they pay the price.

Severa kept talking, her head bowing a bit. "I…I just push everyone away." She shook her head. "Push and push and push and push, until one by one, they all back off, and leave me alone, to wallow in my own misery." I almost spoke up, but decided against it, content to just wait for her to finish. She seemed to need to get this off her chest. "I'm the only one who should have to deal with my own problems, no one else needs to get dragged down with me." There was a silence. "So why do they keep fucking trying!" She almost screamed the last part, as if forgetting I was there.

Again, memories rose, of my wife, then fiancé, demanding to know what was bothering me, and refusing to take no for an answer. I remembered her decisive statement that, I couldn't keep everything bottled up forever. That I needed someone to lean on, and although I refused to repeat her exact words, the point that she intended to be that person was conveyed well.

"Because they care about you." My voice drifted across the utterly still night, startling even me. "Someone once told me, in explicit and quite certain terms, that I could not bottle all my fears, my regrets, and worries up inside forever." Tears started to form in my eyes, as I was reminded of her. I could still recall every detail of it all. "I suspect that is what they are trying to show you Severa. That they care. That they don't want to see you fall down a path I suspect Robin and Morgan walked for a long time."

As I spoke, Severa seemed to grow angry, until I mentioned Robin and Morgan. That, it seemed to get her attention. "What do you mean?" She demanded. "A path you suspect Robin and Morgan walked?"

Taking a deep breath, I sat up. "How many people actually know Morgan on a personal level?" I asked. The question, I was surprised to discover, made Severa pause.

"Three maybe?" She paused. "It's hard to say with Morgan. She's never been very forthright about wanting to associate with other people, and she tends to be a bit cold, behind the way she acts in public." Severa's eyes narrowed. "Why?"

Instead of answering I asked a second question. "And how recent a development was that? I'm willing to bet my sword-arm that it wasn't until recently that Morgan formed any sort of emotional connection with anyone."

"Yes." Severa paused. "How do you know that?"

My chuckle had no mirth. "I've lived through two wars Severa." I paused, considering. "I've read the histories of me that you have, and they are woefully incomplete, and sometimes flat out inaccurate…. Two wars leaves a lot of scars on someone, and for a long time I didn't let anyone in. I did what Morgan, Robin and you do. I bottled everything up, didn't let others see. I ran from my nightmares, dodged my fears, and plowed ahead under a façade of surety, and self-confidence."

Severa seemed to sense something in my tone, for I had her rapt attention. "And?" She prompted.

I turned away, looking up to the stars, watching the way they would wink, and flicker. "Someone called my bluff." I whispered. "And it all came crashing down, in a ball of fire, blood and death." Memories continued to dance behind my eyes. "And then someone I didn't deserve picked me up again."

Thoughts of her danced through my head, and I found myself wishing I didn't have those memories any longer. They had been painful enough then, and were only worse now. "You aren't up here because of nightmares, are you?" I probed a bit, at length. Severa jerked.

"No." She whispered. "I'm not."

I didn't ask further questions. If she wanted to talk, she would talk. I didn't offer more advice either. If she wanted that, she had but to ask.

I didn't find out what actual brought Severa to the roof of the castle every so often that night, or even the next time. I still didn't eat much, and slept little. Robin still gave me worried glances. I kept to myself. It was better that way. That way, I didn't have to remember, and I didn't have to live with an illusion of inclusion, and return to loneliness after that.

I spent the nights I didn't sleep watching the stars. They were the same stars as back home, I knew. Memories of many a night under those stars flashed behind my eyes, and I felt tears start to form. I remembered, against my own will, so many things. The little details. The way her lips curved as she smiled, the musical tone of her voice, the warmth of her skin when I woke, my own limbs clammy from my dreams.

A muffled sob broke me from my musings. I glanced around. Severa didn't sob, I knew from experience. She raged. So whoever this wasn't, it wasn't Severa. The sound of footsteps grew.

A head of hair the same color as Lucina and Chrom's appeared, followed by a thin young woman, her face blotched with tears and rage. It was readily apparent she did not see me, as she started shouting profanity at the stars.

"Why is she such a bitch! And why do I even care!" Was the first portion I managed to understand.

"Cynthia?" I guessed at her name, based upon the time and the ranting. The young woman jumped, whirling about with a shriek of surprise.

"M-Marth! I…I..um…" She trailed off, and just sort of collapsed in a heap on the roof. After a moment of considering, I decided against approaching her. Like all of the other children, as their group was known, Cynthia was picky about being touched, and could react rather violently when surprised. Another of the many scars left by their war.

"I'm sorry!" She exploded after a moment.

She was sorry? "You have nothing to apologize for." I replied, keeping my voice level. "Everyone needs to vent once in a while." She looked up and me, tears reflected by the moonlight.

"I…" She fumbled for words.

For a long time, I considered whether or not to pry. Although I talked rarely with much of anyone, I did occasionally converse with the Shepherds enough to know that Severa and Cynthia, if not a couple, were very close, and I had put enough pieces together to have my guess why Severa actually appeared on the room at night.

"It hurts, being told that you aren't needed, doesn't it?" I asked after a long time. Cynthia flinched.

"How do you know?" She muttered, turning away.

"An educated guess." I admitted. "I've never been in your shoes," I went on, "but I've been in hers." Cynthia's head turned slightly. "I spent a long time trying to keep people out. To keep them safe." I paused. "When you're in that mindset, I don't think you can realize that people really do care, that they want the best for you, and that they can, and will, help." I shivered, remembering something of the things I had said in my attempts to protect those around me. They called me Hero King. I was no hero, I knew. "This isn't the first time you two have fought, is it?" I asked.

Cynthia paused, glaring at me a bit. "You're worse than Morgan and Lucina put together." She paused. "No, it isn't. It's just the worst. She was being a jerk and….and…Then it just kept going."

My gaze turned to the stars once more. It wasn't especially a surprise, to me. In the weeks before she and I had finally had it out, and we had fought more and more. We were not a perfect couple, as I knew the stories liked to claim. We fought, just like anyone else, and we had our differences, but we reconciled them, we worked them out, and we moved forwards. Our marriage had been a good one, even for its- rocky start.

"And before either of you know what's really going on, your screaming at each other that you don't need each other, that the other one is a selfish bitch, and can go jump off a cliff." I surmised, quoting myself. Cynthia nodded, her tearstained cheeks gleaming in the moonlight.

"Yup." She nodded a bit, more tears starting to flow. I sighed. Why was it always me? I asked myself with a sigh. Why me?

"And now you're mad at her for what she said, mad at yourself for what you said, and just a generalized mess." Again she nodded. "It isn't my place to interfere, really," I began, "But I'm going to speak from a bit of experience." Cynthia nodded again. "Go talk to her. Not now, wait until morning." The young woman looked up, surprise written across her face. "I don't know any of you very well, but I'm reasonably sure she just as mad at herself as you are at her. And talk to her." Cynthia opened her mouth, and I forestalled her question. "And you have to listen too. A relationship, as a late friend of mine told me, is a two way street. You both have to try, and work together, but the reward is worth all the trails in the middle." I paused, watching the stars twinkle. "Severa cares for you a great deal, Cynthia, as evidence by the fact she tries so damn hard to get rid of you, speaking from experience."

The young woman gave a miserable nod, and I leaned forwards, looking her in the eye. "Nothing worth doing is ever easy. Apologize, and talk to each other. And listen." I paused. "And do Morgan a favor, and find a soundproof room, you know?"

Cynthia turned red as a tomato as my implication sunk in. "Marth!" She exclaimed, arms flailing. For the first time in days, I gave a dry chuckle. "You jerk!" I could at least see a bit of mirth returning to her eyes.

"I'll leave you be now." I stood, bowing a little, before I slipped down the stairs, my head pounding. Memories assailed me, the good, the bad, and everything in between. I wasn't sure where I was walking, at that point, just wanted to be away. Away from people, from anything that might remind me of her of nights under the stars, of the curses on my lips, of regrets, of being cold.

At some point, I collapsed in a corner, my tears finally breaking out, flowing down my cheeks.

I was alone. I had finally gotten that angry teenage wish. I was alone. And now that I was, I wanting nothing more than to not be any long. I wished I didn't wake up cold, screaming any more. I wished I was back home, where I at least had some shoulders to lean on. For an irrational moment, I wished I was with her again, no matter what that took. I shuddered, hearing the mocking laughter of the Dark Dragon in my ears. Gharnef's dying curses echoing behind that.