Chapter Text
The carriage’s movement slowly ground to a halt, though Robin didn’t even bother waiting for the coachman as he threw the door open and stepped out onto Ylissian soil. Stretching his arms above his head, he glanced up at the palace that towered above him with a satisfied smile.
“Happy to be home, love?”
Robin turned around to see Lucina exiting the carriage. With a smile he offered the princess a hand so she could hop down. “I sure am. Quite the little adventure, wasn’t it?”
Their second outing to the extravagant World of Smash had far outstripped their first; every competitor they’d met in the prior tournament had returned, alongside a bizarre assortment of new ones. There was also the two massive cosmic abominations that had tried to enslave them all, but that matter had been neatly put to rest.
“Ah, there’s a welcome sight for weary eyes,” commented Chrom as he descended from the carriage. “Hard to believe that only a few days have passed here during our absence.”
“The Outrealms have a strange relationship with time, don’t they?” Lucina turned to glance back down at the streets of Ylisstol that sprawled out toward the distance behind them. “After all that excitement, it’s nice to return to normal.”
Robin wrapped a hand around his wife as they watched the bustling marketplace full of people going about their day. Only the scattered areas of ongoing reconstruction were any evidence that a war had previously transpired there.
“Everything’s so peaceful,” the white-haired man said happily. “And much less chaotic. No giant flying hands is also a bonus.”
Lucina hummed in agreement. “I imagine if you tried telling anyone here about our time in that realm you’d probably receive your share of odd looks.”
Robin gave a laugh. “Yeah, probably.”
“Faaaather!”
A sudden voice rang out from behind Robin; he barely managed to turn around before someone barrelled into his chest. Thankfully they weren’t heavy enough to cause any real harm, opting to throw their arms around him in a vice-grip hug. The Plegian-style cloak they wore was identical to Robin’s own; a short mop of blue hair obscured his vision for a moment before the figure pulled away.
“Hey kiddo,” Robin couldn’t help but grin, reaching out and tussling the hair of his future daughter. “Miss us?”
“You guys were gone for ages!" Morgan pouted. “What heartless parents would leave their dear daughter alone for so long? Don’t you like spending time with your pride and joy?”
“Still dramatic as ever I see,” Lucina sighed, though she also wore a smile. Pulling the girl in for a hug herself she added, “travelling to and from the Outrealm gate barely took us a week, Morgan.”
“I don’t count that! Technically it’s been…” Morgan glanced over at Chrom. “How long would you say you spent in that realm?”
“About half a year, give or take,” Chrom replied.
“See? Told you guys,” Morgan shot back smugly. “Thanks, grandfather!”
The Exalt winced visibly. “I’ll never get used to that.”
It had been just over a year since the war against Grima had ended, and about a month after Robin’s miraculous return. Most of the Shepherds had gone their separate ways, though some remained in Ylisse to help keep the peace or deal with the occasional bandit uprising. Morgan had assumed the mantle of Royal Tactician during her father’s absence; upon his return, Robin decided to officially retire while still helping his daughter any way he could. Chrom offered to keep him under his employ as ‘Advisor to the Exalt’, a job that came with considerably more free time than his previous one.
Robin glanced up at the grand castle in mock astonishment. “Well, I’m pleased to see everything is still in one piece. Looks like you and Lissa managed to avoid burning the place down.”
“Har har,” Morgan rolled her eyes. “If anyone were to do that it’d be Frederick. You’ve seen how gets is with fires, not even Lissa can keep him in check once he gets going.”
“No truer words were ever spoken,” Chrom answered with a smirk. “Here, why don’t we move this inside? I’m sure the others are eager to hear about our latest Outrealm escapades.”
The group entered the castle and were greeted by Lissa, Frederick and Olivia - the latter of whom, being queen of the Halidom, had kept things running smoothly in their absence. It was a strange feeling to be gone for so long even though little time had passed in Ylisse. To celebrate their (rather modest) return, Chrom did the natural thing as Exalt and held a grand feast. Robin listened as Chrom and Lucina regaled everyone with tales from the tournament and its colourful cast of combatants. He noticed how Morgan hung on to every word, occasionally interrupting to inquire more about certain parts as the night wore on.
With dinner over and everyone else departing for bed, Robin and Lucina began heading off to their room with Morgan in tow, who was still recounting the stories from earlier with no shortage of enthusiasm.
“I’m still not over the fact that you guys fought not one, but two evil god-monsters that wanted to rule over every realm in existence,” raved the junior tactitian with eyes full of wonder. “I think books might be ruined for me now, no story can possibly top that!”
“I pray it doesn’t become commonplace, Grima was already enough for one lifetime,” Lucina muttered. “Are you turning in for the night, Morgan?”
“I would, but I still have some work to do, and there’s just soooo many stairs.” Morgan turned to Robin and held her arms up, putting on her best puppy-dog eyes. “Carry me?”
Robin scoffed. “Can the royal tactitian really afford to be this lazy?”
“I’m conserving energy, it’s called being pragmatic!”
Lucina smiled at their daughter’s playful banter, bidding her goodnight before breaking off toward her and Robin’s room. After a few more flights of stairs the pair reached Robin’s old office which Morgan now worked out of.
Crouching down so Morgan could climb off his back, Robin eyed the massive stack of missives piled upon her desk. “Ah paperwork, my old nemesis. The one thing I don’t miss about my old job.”
“Yeah, it’s a slog.” Morgan let out a sigh big enough to rival one of Cordelia’s. With a snap of her fingers she produced a tiny flame and lit the candle on the desk. “But that’s not even the worst I have to deal with, being technically a princess and all. Learning the ins and outs of royalty, the stuffy politics of court, the proper silverware to use… ugh! Why can’t I just concentrate on tactics without any of the boring stuff? I’ll never manage to surpass you with all this other useless fluff bogging me down!”
“You can do this, Morgan,” Robin encouraged her. “You’ve already exceeded the level of expertise I had during the war against Plegia, and you’re furthering your knowledge each day. I have full confidence in your abilities, and I’m here to ease the burden wherever I can.”
“Thanks father.” Sitting down on the chair behind her desk, she fixed Robin with a more subdued expression. “Y’know, I was only half-joking earlier. While I really like my new job, I hope we can still find time to hang out together now that we’re no longer at war.”
Robin nodded slowly, propping himself up against the doorframe. “I’ll always make time for you. Same goes for Lucina, you only need ask us.”
Morgan’s face morphed back into its usual cheeriness. “We’ll have to figure out something fun to do together later, but for now I better start on some forms - these promotional seals won’t order themselves, after all.”
“Sure thing, just don’t stay up too late. Good night.”
“G’night father!”
Robin turned and was halfway through pulling the door shut when he stopped. He felt the gears in his head start to turn as the beginnings of an idea slowly took shape.
Seals, huh...?
He abruptly barged back in. “Hold on, just thought of something.”
“Buh?” Morgan looked back up, believing her father to have already gone. “What’s up?”
“You remember all those fighters from the tournament your mother and I described earlier?”
Morgan set down her quill. “Yeah?”
“Well…” Robin pursed his lips, the illustration of the plan in his mind becoming clearer. “Your mention of those seals just now got me thinking of classes. And this is just a spur-of-the-moment idea, but… what if we tried making our own?”
Morgan blinked. “Make our own classes? What do you mean?”
“During my time in the tournament with Lucina and Chrom,” Robin elaborated, “the opponents we faced utilized weapons and techniques that were completely out-of-this-world. Imagine if we were to try and draw some inspiration from their fighting styles and incorporate them into our own class ideas? We could potentially craft something unlike anything our current military force has ever seen!”
“Huh. Interesting…” Morgan brought up a gloved hand and stroked her chin. “That’s quite the idea father. Although, from the way you described those opponents, it sounded like a lot of them came from worlds with technology far beyond our own. Would it really be feasible to try and adapt their styles for military use if we can’t accurately replicate their weapons and abilities?”
“I…” Robin furrowed his brow, both proud of and discouraged by his daughter’s sharpness. “I didn’t think that far ahead.” Sighing, the ex-grandmaster continued, “on second thought, it’d likely be impossible to properly recreate most of the tools and weapons those fighters used. Plus it’s not like we have a dire need for new innovations in warfare, considering we’re not even at war right now.”
“Jeez, don’t sound so unhappy about it,” Morgan smirked before rising from her chair. “Even so, I think it’s a great idea! It’s the perfect thing for us to do together in our free time. And even if nothing practical comes out of it, at least it’ll be fun to mess around and try to make something new, right?”
Robin raised an eyebrow. “You really want to try this?”
“Yeah! Who knows what’ll happen when we put our heads together?” Morgan finished.
Robin smiled warmly at his future daughter, happy with how receptive she was to his idea, as crazy and unrealistic as it sounded. “Then it’s settled. Next time your schedule allows it, let’s build ourselves a brand new class. Maybe I can even convince Chrom to reallocate some time from your nobility lessons into helping me with a ‘joint strategic project’ or something.”
“Alright!” Morgan quietly cheered, pumping her fist in the air. “I can’t wait to get started. Which one should we take a stab at first?”
Chuckling at the junior tactician’s eagerness, Robin slowly backed out of the room, pulling the door closed as he did so. “Oh, I’ve got a few ideas…”