If one were to search for the word "pain" in any of the land's standard dictionaries, they would find that it is defined as physical suffering or distress; mostly resulting from intense stimuli or damage. From the smallest rodent to the largest of carnivores, all animals experienced pain. It was a basic survival mechanism inherent in all the world's lifeforms.

Its purpose was to serve as an impetus. Pain was an unpleasant sensation, and thus most people and animals actively avoided actions and activities that led to experiencing it. Not even the most asinine of beings dared stick their hand into the proverbial fire twice.

"And thus…" Miriel adjusted her glasses as she looked over her partner's form; slumped over onto the desk. "I simply cannot fathom why an individual as astute as yourself would repeatedly subject himself to Sully's tuition in the martial arts."

"Hnrgh…" Was Robin's intelligible response. After his daily 'training' with Sully, he'd stopped by the medical tent, only for Lissa to laugh him off. It appeared that Kjelle had been spreading rumors. Though more than a little distressed by the revelation, he supposed it was for the best that they didn't waste her energy on some bruises and sore muscles.

That didn't mean he couldn't complain about it, however. "Damn Sully..." he murmured. "Damn Lissa…"

"Buck up, Father," Kjelle said with a tiny grin on her face. "Didn't you tell me you wouldn't have it any other way?"

"Truly?" Laurent raised an eyebrow at them. "That sounds quite incongruous to me."

"Well, you see," the girl said; pausing for dramatic effect. "It turns out that Father is actually a m—"

"Man of great tolerance!" Faster than the eye could see, Robin had sprung from his chair and covered her mouth with his hand. He smiled pleasantly at the dubious looks on Laurent and Miriel's faces. "Isn't that right, dear?"

"Mhmgh!" Kjelle glared at her father, who glared right back in return. The two mages watched on as the father-daughter duo began arguing in hushed whispers. Laurent glanced over at the unimpressed look on his mother's face and quickly decided to intervene. Although Kjelle could usually be counted on to remain level-headed, she had always had a bit of a temper inherited from her mother. It was best to break this up before things got out of hand.

"That said…" He cleared his throat; redirecting their attention to him. "We were just about to begin our studies. Kjelle, will you be returning to your training or do you intend to join us?

"Join us?" Robin questioned; a look of surprise on his face. "Kjelle, you know magic?"

"We are your children, Father," she retorted with a dry smile. "We all know a bit of magic and we're all at least competent tacticians."

"Though some of us are naturally better than others," Laurent added primly; readjusting his glasses. "Noire and I are the most dedicated to our craft, while Morgan is unrivaled in her knowledge of warfare."

"I'm admittedly on the lower tier when it comes to magical prowess," Kjelle said. "But I make it a point to join in on the study sessions every now and then. Even if practical magic is out of reach for me, I still like to sharpen my knowledge on the subject; if only to better prepare myself for when we face our enemies."

"A most judicious policy," Miriel nodded her approval. "Sciolism is the truest and most precarious enemy of them all. But alas, this is not the reason for which we have convened, Robin."

"Heh, I thought something was strange about this particular session," the tactician admitted. "We usually study in the evenings."

"Indubitably," Laurent said; turning his critical gaze towards his sire. "Father, Severa enlightened me with some… disquieting information yesternight."

"Go on," Robin urged. The younger man took a moment to adjust his glasses before continuing.

"It has come to my attention that there is a significant deficit in your cognitive recollection of prior events; emanating from the day you met Chrom."

"It's no secret that I have amnesia, Laurent." Ylisse's Grandmaster said with a sigh.

"Wait, what!?" Kjelle's eyes snapped towards him; an alarmed look on her face. "What do you mean you have amnesia?!"

"I mean that I don't remember a thing before the day Chrom found me collapsed by the side of a road," Robin said; running a hand through his hair. His mysterious past had always bothered him. He'd spent the better part of the last two years trying to find his lost memories; whether by traveling or researching the surrounding lands in Ylisstol's royal library.

Whenever the Shepherds were called upon to rid the halidom of bandits or Risen, Robin was always the first to volunteer; always hoping that maybe, just maybe he would find a clue to his past.

Their leads were incredibly limited. The only clues to go off of had been the items Robin had in his possession the day they found him. That being his trusty robe, a bronze sword and a tome of thunder magic.

Unfortunately, the sword and tome were as common as could be; easily purchased at any armorer. There were no leads to be found there.

The robe, on the other hand, he found was Plegian in origin. That much was discernible to anyone who looked at it. However, apparently it had been custom made, as Tharja, their resident Plegia-expert, didn't recognize the make or design. As such, there'd been no way to track down the tailor who'd sewn it. And it wasn't as though he could go around asking every Plegian tailor or seamstress if they recognized it. Relations with Ylisse's westerly neighbor were still incredibly tense, after all. And Robin was well-known to be the Shepherds tactician as well as Chrom's advisor. They likely wouldn't take too kindly to a "conquerer" strutting about, inquiring about clothes.

However, there was one thing of note among such meager possessions. Maribelle had once pointed out that custom robes such as his could only have been commissioned by someone of significant social status. The possibility was further reinforced by his aptitude for tactics and magic. One could count on a single hand the number of commoners who had access to such knowledge. So, in all likelihood, Robin was of noble blood or at the very least had connections to Plegian nobility. It had been the reason Maribelle had begun to willingly associate with him in the first place. (She refused to allow a noble to act as "uncouth" as he did; thus beginning their biweekly etiquette lessons.)

However, this information came as yet another conundrum. If Robin was as high up on the social ladder as Maribelle assumed, why then, had no one come forward claiming relations with him after the war's end? Even with the tensions between Plegia and Ylisse, someone should have attempted to contact him; whether it be an ambassador to reclaim him or an assassin sent to put an end to his "treachery".

Even a note that read "You're dead to us" would have been fine in Robin's mind. At least then he would know who he was. However, as the days went on and no one stepped forward to speak to him, he began to grow disinterested with his past. It didn't matter who he was in the past. All that mattered was who he was now. He'd managed to put it all behind him.

Until now.

'Validar.' Robin nearly sneered. He fought down his unpleasant emotions and returned his attention to the concerned Kjelle.

"It's fine," he assured her. "Even if I can't remember, who I was, I'm still me." Although she still looked mildly concerned, his words seemed to placate her for the time being. Nodding to himself, Robin turned to Laurent. "Was there anything in particular you wanted to know?"

"For now, we simply aspire to discern the cause; if at all possible," the snow-haired boy said. "The others should be arriving any moment now…"

Right on cue, someone came bursting through the tent flaps. "Tada!" the girl cried out. "Morgan is in the building! Er… tent, rather."

"S-Sorry we're late," the squeaky voice of Noire said as she cautiously entered after her more exuberant sister.

"Hehehehe..." A familiar voice giggled from behind him; sending chills down Robin's spine. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting, my love…"

"Th-Tharja!" the man yelped; nearly leaping away from her. "Wh-What are you doing here?"

"We requested that she participate in these proceedings," Miriel explained; adjusting her glasses.

"Where are the others?" Laurent asked his siblings; peaking over Noire's shoulder to see if anyone else was coming.

"I think Nah is hiding from Auntie Nowi," Morgan said as she casually stretched her arms. "Likewise, I think Yarne is being harassed by his mom. And last I saw Severa, she was being guilt-tripped by Aunt Cordelia into helping her fix dad's robes ."

"Which reminds me," Tharja spoke up before turning towards Kjelle, who stiffened under her gaze. "You. Girl."

"Y-Yes, Aunt Tharja?" the armored girl asked with a fearful look on her face.

Robin raised an eyebrow at the way the normally brash and confident girl was behaving in front of their resident dark mage. She was practically shaking in her boots! Subtlety, he leaned over towards the other children who (sans Morgan) had similar looks of distress on their faces. "...Is there something I should be aware of?"

"Well..." Laurent grimaced slightly. "I'll simply say that Tharja is not the most… superlative of child-sitters in the future we hail from and leave the remainder of the explanation to your imagination."

"...I'll keep that in mind," he muttered; shaking his head before returning his attention to the conversation at hand.

"Your mother is looking for you."

"...That's right…" Kjelle murmured. "Mother said she'd teach me to ride…"

"She looked and acted rather impatient." Tharja made a sour face at the memory. "I wouldn't keep her waiting if I were you."

"Yes, but…" The girl sent a worried glance at her father. Robin just smiled at her.

"I'll be fine," he said. "I've gone two years without my memories. I don't see that changing any time soon. Go on. Sully's waiting."

"...Very well," the ivory-haired girl said before turning to her siblings. "Fill me in later. I want to stay updated."

"Will do!" Morgan exclaimed; throwing a thumbs-up at her retreating form before turning her attention back to the tent's other occupants. "Er… So what are we filling her in on again?"

"Oh, for… Father's amnesia, Morgan!" Laurent sighed; rubbing the bridge of his nose. "And the fact that you have amnesia as well!"

"That's right!" Robin exclaimed; his eyes widening. "In all the chaos lately, I suppose that slipped my mind. You have amnesia as well, don't you, Morgan."

"Indeed," Miriel spoke up. "And what is most peculiar is the fact that she, and she alone, is amnesiac. None of your other progeny is experiencing any deficiencies in their recollections. An anomaly in the space-time continuum, or perhaps a result of her lineage? We still have not discerned the identity of her maternal progenitor."

"I highly doubt it is the former," Laurent said; striding towards one of the bookshelves and retrieving a large tome on various magical and scientific theory. "If this were to be the case, surely our siblings would be similarly affected."

"B-But the cause being her lineage makes even less sense!" Noire said weakly. "If anything, she should be the least affected out of all of us; given her heritage. You don't see Lucina having trouble remembering anything."

"Lucina?" Robin raised an eyebrow. "What does Lucina have to do with this?"

"Lucina's blood is less… potent in comparison to Morgan's," Laurent retorted. "We cannot disregard the possibility."

"Just gonna ignore my question, huh?" Robin huffed.

"I think you're all missing the point," Tharja spoke up with an impatient scowl on her face. "First and foremost, we're trying to figure out why Robin lost his memory and in turn why Morgan is affected."

"Naturally," Miriel agreed. "Distinguishing and isolating common variables between the two is the cardinal step."

"So?" Tharja turned her eyes towards the man in questions. Robin shifted uncomfortably beneath her intense gaze.

"So what?" the man asked calmly. "There's nothing about me that we all don't already know."

"You're lying." She said this with such certainty that Robin nearly flinched back.

"Wh—"

"I always know when you're lying." Tharja said with a somewhat smug look on her face. "You're like an open book to me, Robin."

The white-haired man could only sigh. That much was certainly true. With her eyes always upon him, there was nothing he could ever hide from Tharja. "...I think I may have learned the identity of my father," he said reluctantly. "But the source is hardly what I would call reliable."

"Truly?" Miriel raised an eyebrow at him. "Then perchance your lineage is a factor?"

"You know who grandfather is?" Morgan asked; perking up slightly. Robin winced slightly at the term.

"...Maybe. It's not conclusive." He said before turning to Laurent and Noire. "I take it the two of you already know who he is?"

"On the contrary..." The mage adjusted his glasses. "I doubt any of us are privy to that knowledge. You… didn't particularly enjoy speaking of your past prior to joining the Shepherds. I myself only know the name of our paternal grandmother."

"Your grandmother?" Robin parroted; his eyes widening slightly.

"H-Her name was Morgana," Noire spoke up quietly. "Morgan was named after her."

"Morgana?" Tharja repeated sharply.

"Y-Yes!" The girl squeaked fearfully as her mother cast her gaze upon her. "B-B-But that's all I know!"

"Does the name mean something to you?" Robin asked; turning towards her curiously.

"Yes… Morgana… or I suppose it would be La Princesa Morgana."

"Princesa?" the tactician repeated; raising an eyebrow at the rather lofty title.

"Yes," Tharja said. "All the noble houses of Plegia have connections to the throne; regardless of how distant their relation to the main branch of the royal family."

"W-Wait…" Noire squeaked. "But, doesn't that technically makes us…?"

"Princes and Princesses!" Morgan exclaimed; pumping her fist into the air. "Awesome!"

"Let's not get carried away, now," Robin said with a small sigh. He nodded at Tharja to continue.

The woman returned the gesture before striding towards one of the many desks situated throughout the tent. Upon it was a large atlas depicting the many nations of the world. Flipping towards a particular page, she pointed out a small region along the eastern coast of Plegia.

"This is the province her house ruled over," Tharja continued. "Her official title was La Princesa Morgana, Duquesa de Valencia."

"Ah, Lady Morgan, Duchess of Valencia," Miriel translated as they crowded around the map. "I recall investigating this province when seeking clues to Robin's muddled history. The region is modest in terms of area, but illustrious for its bountiful orange groves and the production of silk. It is a wealthy city-state that is mostly autonomous, but ultimately falls under the sovereignty of Plegia's Obsidian Throne."

"I've never been there myself, but it's a popular place to visit; especially in the summer," Tharja added quietly upon seeing the briefest look of longing flash across Robin's face. "The majority of Plegia is dry and arid, but the mountains surrounding Valencia trap moisture from the Ylissean Gulf; giving the province a subtropical climate. For its fair weather and fertile coastline, it's often called the Jewel of Plegia."

It was very fitting, in the sorceress's mind, for the most beautiful person she knew to hail from one of the most beautiful places the world had to offer.

"Then this…" Robin muttered; gently running his finger against the tiny region. This tiny, sea-side region was where he came from. Where he'd been born and raised. "But... if I'm the son of a Duchess, why did they never seek me out?"

"That's… where things go south," Tharja said with a small grimace. "About two decades ago, Lady Morgana married a noble from another house. A Grimleal named—"

"Validar," the man whispered; sending the tent's occupants into an uncomfortable silence.

"...Surely you jest?" Miriel spoke up after a while; an unsettled look on her face. "But, is he not…?"

"The current king of Plegia," Robin said; grimacing.

"That makes us double royalty!" Morgan exclaimed triumphantly. Noire smiled weakly while Laurent simply shook his head in amusement at her exuberance.

But far from being happy with this discovery, Robin could only feel a sense of unease. Validar had always made him uneasy, ever since he'd first met him in Ylisstol. And this brought up yet another question. How could the he still be alive? Robin had pierced the man's heart himself back in the Ylissean capital and yet Validar seemed in perfect health when they met several days ago.

"I wasn't even aware the two had a child. Your birth was never announced." Tharja continued quietly. "Then, Lady Morgana disappeared nearly a decade ago and Validar took the title as Duke of Valencia. It's unknown what became of her."

The tent once again descended into uncomfortable silence and Robin felt his mood fall even further.

"Well, I suppose it is a start," Miriel said before clearing her throat. "At least now, one conundrum has been elucidated. Though it has sprung forth even more questions, I am certain that, given time, we will discern the truth behind your missing memories."

"At this point. I'm not sure I want to know," Robin murmured to himself before shaking his head and buckling down. He had a feeling it would be a long while before they left this tent.

"So, something on your mind?" Chrom asked his tactician as he saw the man slumped over the table in the mess tent.

"A lot of things are on my mind, Chrom," Robin said with a rueful chuckle.

"Is it the 'children from the future'-thing or the 'I'm the long-lost prince of an enemy nation'-thing?" the blue-haired man prodded with a small smirk. "Or perhaps both?"

The tactician could only groan; causing Chrom to burst out laughing. "You heard about that?"

"News spreads fast in this camp," The Ylissean prince said with a wide grin. "Especially when Morgan runs around trying to impose her newly-acquired title of Princess on everyone."

"Is she seriously doing that?" Robin asked; mortified. "Gods. I'll have to speak with her about that."

"You'll have more than just Morgan to deal with, I'm afraid." Chrom was clearly enjoying watching his friend squirm. "From what I hear, Severa was even worse once she heard the news. She hasn't stopped bragging to Lucina about it all day."

He scrunched up his face and continued in a high-pitched voice. "I always told you my daddy was just was good as yours; better even!"

By Naga, he even had Severa's haughty expression down pat!

"Gods…" The white-haired man murmured; pulling his hood over his rapidly reddening ears. "This day can't get much worse…"

Chrom merely chuckled and opened his mouth to tease the man further. However…

"D-DAD!" a voice shrieked; prompting the entire tent to turn towards the source to see a massive, furry creature come tumbling inside. Immediately, the creature collapsed in front of Robin and began to shrink in size until Yarne sat before him; looking to be on the verge of tears.

"Y-Yarne?" Robin questioned.

"Morgan tied my ears into a knot again!" the young man whimpered; gesturing towards the extremities in question.

"No, I didn't!" The familiar voice of his youngest child shouted from outside. "You can't prove that!"

"Yes, I can!" The Taguel cried out. "Laurent was there! He can back me up!"

"He had his nose in a spellbook," Morgan retorted as she poked her head in. "He didn't even notice we were there!"

"W-Well, Noire was there, too!"

"Auntie Tharja hexed her. She was too busy sneezing to see anything!"

"T-Then, Severa…"

"You really think Severa is going to back you up?"

The blue-haired prince simply chuckled at the scene before turning to the man beside him. "Quite the family you've got there, Robin."

"Shut up, Chrom."

A/N: Whew. That took a little longer than I thought it would. Sorry if there was too much exposition in this chapter. I kinda went off on a tangent there. By the way, I hate writing Miriel and Laurent's dialogue. You need a damn thesaurus just write basic lines and you have to ask yourself if the word/phrase in question is "pretentious enough" or "too pretentious". You have to find a middle-ground and it sucks. It really sucks.

Anyway, as you can probably tell, I based the geography and nomenclature of Plegia off of real-world Spain and even borrowed the name of one of its most famous cities, Valencia. I just recently bought Age of Empires II HD (It was only $4 on Steam!) and I'm a little obsessed with the Spanish campaign, El Cid. It was my favorite campaign in the original and it remains so today.

If things seem to be going a little slow, I'm sorry but this isn't an action oriented story. There's already plenty of Fire Emblem authors that can write war scenes and epic dramas far better than I can.

So, rather than a single, arching story, you should think of this more as a series of related snippets (though not exactly snippets per say). Things will of course happen in chronological order, but this is not an epic story.

It's not "The (Cruel) Mother's Gift and other Tales Through Time" and it's definitely not "Fire Emblem Awakening - Invisible Ties" but something in-between, I suppose you could say. I don't claim to be on the same level as metallover or Dame Namor, but I hope this will still interest you. I apologize if you hoped otherwise.

Either way, I thank you for taking the time to read this and hope you have an awesome day.

Sincerely,

Your King