Welcome, one and all, to a new story I've created. Basically, what we have right here is the result of one madly hopping plot bunny from reading one too many one-shots. In short, if the summary hasn't been clear enough, AU!Robin gets transported into the Awakening timeline and her life just basically did a one-eighty. Now, I'm not sure how well I did this chapter. It's just a fun little diversion of mine. But if you want to read on anyway, please do!

That's all, and I hope you all enjoy.

Chapter One

The Stalker

The shiny-looking trinkets displayed behind the large glass panel caught my eye and, after a moment of consideration, I nodded to myself and stepped into the souvenir shop. At the sound of ringing door chimes, the shopkeeper slouching behind the counter straightened up. I gave a casual wave in response, smiled politely, and turned away to check out the collection of snow globes on the leftmost shelf.

But while I had all the appearances of a tourist fresh from the deserts of Plegia, I wasn't here to look for souvenirs.

I, Robin, was trying to get a better look at the creep who's been tailing me for a while now.

That was the reason why I chose this spot. The angle was right enough that I got a good glimpse of Ylisstol's busy streets outside, and the shelves covered me enough that the only thing anyone would see—in the dim lighting and if they looked hard enough—was my white-blonde hair. Maybe my red hoodie, too, but since the shelves were a reddish-brown color, it wasn't as noticeable.

If this issue got really bad enough that I'll want to report this guy to the local police, I needed more details. Facial structure, height, body figure, and more. And I needed him to keep not noticing that I've long noticed him. I did just spend a good portion of the afternoon looking for a shop with a large window like this one.

…What was up with Ylisstol and its hatred for window-shoppers, anyway? Geez.

As the seconds ticked by and I started waiting there, I thought it wasn't funny how an ordinary morning turned into a pretty bad afternoon. I never suspected anything like this would happen after I started the day with barely enough sleep the previous night. All I thought of was what I planned to do in the afternoon when I ate my breakfast in what the locals say was the best bakery in town. And when I went sightseeing before I returned to my apartment to work on my thesis, I thought today was pretty 'meh' in general. I'd say things were almost clockwork.

But by the time the sun was almost midway up, that was when things started getting weirder and weirder.

I didn't notice the guy at first. See, I'd decided to visit the central park where I could find a fancy-looking bench to sit my butt on after having done a lot of walking earlier. The magnificent statue of Naga caught my attention, standing right there in the middle of a huge, circular fountain surrounded by lush green grass and a few oak trees, and I decided to amble towards it to get a good look first.

Thinking back on it now, I probably shouldn't have done that. If I didn't decide to pull out my camera for future scrapbook ideas revolving the beautifully sculpted statue, the sight wouldn't have to feel ruined when I realized someone was staring at me. You know that strange kind of pressure you'd feel weighing you down from behind? That had been what I felt.

But by the time turned around, the last thing I caught was a slight movement of his head that showed he was looking away. Then he'd slipped into the nearest crowd. I'd lost sight of him, and I'd decided to dismiss him as a distraction and went on with my business.

Too bad he hadn't been just a distraction. Many glimpses of him at different places told me otherwise. And after deciding I'd had enough, here I was now.

I brought my mind back to the present, done with that flashback I wish I didn't have. I mentally counted the seconds. At the same time, I pretended to be incredibly interested in one of the snow globes that had a surprisingly accurate model of Castle Ylisstol from two millenniums. That also got me trying to reign in my history-loving side for all things ancient Ylisse. Keep it together, Robin, no time for that now.

Five seconds passed, ten, fifteen—

Target spotted.

I bent my legs and ducked lower, just to be on the safe side. I gripped the edge of the shelf for balance so I didn't fall on my backside. It wobbled under my touch and threatened to slide all snow globes down into a nasty avalanche—but it stilled. Whew. Thank goodness. I knocked softly on its wooden surface in chastisement for scaring me.

Anyway, there he was, his white hair and his brown coat the only things I'd recognized from before. Damn, he still wasn't close enough for me to determine what his eye color was or what other features were distinguishable on his face. The fact that he then turned his back against me just made things a little harder. Still, I persisted on looking at him. I had to deal with this or forever be pestered.

I watched how he bowed his head down to awkwardly check the time on his wristwatch, watched him make an effort to appear nonchalant as numerous shoppers and locals passed by him. Judging from the odd looks sent his way, he was failing. Hard. He didn't seem to care. Or, he was forcing himself not to care. The way he seemed to pull his coat tighter around himself said otherwise.

Funny. For a moment there, I had the impression that he totally didn't belong there. But that strange thought was replaced by the realization that, one: he was a stalker; and two: I shouldn't start empathizing just because I was an outsider like him.

"Seen anything you like, miss?"

My line of thought was snapped apart the moment a guy's voice registered in my mind. It felt pretty sudden, like poof! He was there. But I didn't jump in surprise or anything. Didn't scream, didn't accidentally send a snow globe flying so I could end up responsible for the destruction of Castle Ylisstol. Or actually topple several shelves and be neck-deep in debt for repair payments. And hospital fees.

No wonder my friends back home thought I was no fun with surprises. Especially birthday parties.

Oh, sure, make no mistake, my position was very compromised. But I didn't scowl at the apparently short, red-haired shopkeeper standing beside me either. I plastered on a calm smile and straightened up, patting my hands on my hoodie to get rid of some dust that stuck to it. I also might have given the person an unintentional once over because when my brain finally acknowledged him completely, he was something I didn't expect to see.

"You look a bit young to be managing a store."

"What?" He blinked. When he realized what I meant, he furiously shook his head. "No! Gods, you're the fifth person to tell me that today. I'm sixteen."

I think I might have struck a nerve there. Defensive, much.

"Oh. Well. The statement stands," I said, shrugging.

I wasn't really one to backtrack the moment I said anything. Unless, of course, I was under threat of being thrown out of the shop. Or toasted by a Fire spell because two thousand years had simply made what was once offensive magic into something more of utility.

The shopkeeper wasn't improving his case by pouting like that, by the way.

"Anyway," I said before he could open his mouth. I turned slightly away from him so I could pick up a snow globe and inspect it to keep up my pretense of an interested buyer. A quick glance at the window showed the guy still standing there. Clearly, he was waiting for me and, yes, he's got the creep factor dialed up all the way to eleven. "I'm just browsing for now. Didn't think there'd be that many shops in the commercial district. I'm impressed."

The boy—guy—blinked before widening his eyes in realization. "Wait. That accent. Plegian?"

"Oh, no, it's Valmese," I replied dryly. I winked at the guy to assure him that I wasn't offended. "Of course I'm Plegian."

He didn't speak at once. Catching sight of some disarranged knick-knacks on the shelf to my left, no doubt courtesy of some previous shoppers, maybe some obnoxious kids too, he approached the wooden piece of furniture and started fixing them up with the ease of one who might have had this job way past his contract.

"I see. Then what brings you here to Ylisse? Change of scenery?" He asked conversationally. I belatedly realized that some of the stuff he was rearranging were action figures from that recent movie about Exalt Chrom and his exploits during the time the Fell Dragon, Grima, threatened to destroy the world.

Before you ask, it was a bad movie. Very historically inaccurate, and the character portrayals were so terrible I wondered if the person who wrote them was high. The story in entirety also just made Grima, the Fell Dragon that nearly destroyed the world, sound more fantastical and impossible to believe as having existed before. I do believe there were even people who insisted Grima was nothing but a figment of a historian's imagination.

Buuut, that was me getting off-track.

"Something like that," I said, replacing the snow globe and abandoning all movie-related thoughts.

I wasn't surprised at his curiosity. When you lived in a bustling metropolis that made Ylisstol look horribly provincial in comparison (though it wasn't), people tended to wonder why you'd want to leave when you had everything you needed there. Casinos, malls, resorts, creepy landmarks (looking at you, Dragon's Table), you name it—Plegia's got it. So did Ylisstol after a nighttime stroll around the city, but at a lesser extent. Something told me Ylissean nightlife wasn't as intense as Plegia's.

I had a legit reason to be here, regardless. It wasn't some top secret mission or anything, so I easily explained it to the shopkeeper. "Actually, I'm here for my thesis."

Yes, thesis, every college student's cause of all-nighters and anxiety. Writing more than a hundred pages of a chosen topic was one thing, but defending it in front of a panel was enough to leave anyone a stuttering mess. Anyone but me, anyway, and mostly because I already knew my topic like the back of my hand.

"College student?"

"From Plegia University, yeah."

He seemed put off at that. For a moment I thought he was going to go 'blech' because Ylisse's university and Plegia's university were rivals in many different aspects, but nope. I thought wrong.

"That's not a very creative name." That was why.

"True. It's got nothing over this city's College of Naga," I admitted.

I meant to add more to that, really. But then I heard the chimes ring, nice and soothing to the ears. Naturally, I ended up glancing towards the door in curiosity. This souvenir shop wasn't a busy enough place that I could just tune out most things.

But the moment I realized who'd just entered, I nearly narrowed my eyes in annoyance. I also wanted to commend Mr. Stalker there at the same time. Not a lot of people had the balls to get dangerously closer to the person he was following.

I opted with a sigh instead. It was clear now, more than ever, that this pegasus crap needed to stop.

I didn't want to spend an entire month being paranoid and increasingly frustrated over my personal tail when I've got tons of research to do in this city. The chapters concerning the history of ancient Ylisse, the people involved, and the lost identity of Exalt Chrom's tactician—whom some refer to the Avatar or some other fancy title—weren't going to write themselves.

Hell, I wanted to write those chapters. I've always had a fascination for ancient Ylisse—it's always stood out from all the developments this entire continent had been having for the past millennium.

"Welcome!" The shopkeeper grinned at the newcomer-slash-stalker before stepping back from the shelf he'd been working on, turning to the other messy shelves to perform the same task.

As I bowed my head down and inspected another snow globe, this time one of Regna Ferox's Grand Arena, I made a quick glance aside and noticed how the white-haired man gave a polite smile back. I didn't know why, but gosh darn it that calm and collected facade he had there got me feeling more annoyed. It was a kind of look leaning more on smug than anything else.

You know what, it was high time an intervention happened. My intervention.

So after I swept my eyes around my surroundings, looking for an excuse for me to get closer and tell him off, I spotted the colorful key chains hanging at the racks by the wall. There, right at the spot that the stalker walked past after he entered. I briefly considered buying one of those later. Something to remind me of my time here when I had to go back to Plegia.

Stop distracting yourself, woman, and focus on the main issue.

I feigned interest and made my way towards that location, and I also continued pretending that I didn't know he was stalking me. I made no indication of acknowledging him further, keeping my eyes straight ahead and my breathing nice and even. Comfortable silence. And then, when I was close enough to him and confident that I could at least trip the bastard if he bolted, I stared at him and mercilessly broke that easygoing atmosphere.

I waited for him to catch my eye. He did. I shot him the most frigid, accusatory glare I could muster.

(If memory served, it was the kind of glare that made the bullies of my childhood turn into trembling sissies—they never pulled my hair ever again. It helped that I poured glue all over the top of their heads soon after. That got me a week of detention, but it was so worth it.)

"You and I will be having words," I said to him, my voice low enough for only him to hear.

But to my surprise (which I didn't show, obviously) he didn't seem all that shocked that I've known all this time. His expression was as passive as ever, and his eyes had a certain spark of intelligence in them. All his reaction consisted of was a simple nod. Message received; about damn time.

I narrowed my eyes at him for good measure, and as if I hadn't just tossed around my trademark death glare, I turned away towards the blissfully unaware shopkeeper.

"You don't mind if I come back later, do you? It turns out that I really like that snow globe, but I've still got shops to check out before the day ends," I said to him with an easy smile and a hopeful look on my face. You could say that adopting facades was an acquired skill of mine. My family's to blame.

The red-haired teenager finally finished his knick-knack arrangement, nodded in satisfaction while clapping off some dust off his hands, and grinned a boyish grin at me. "Sure thing! I'm not surprised you like that one. It's a pretty darn accurate replica of the old castle up on the upper district."

"It is," I agreed, nodding fervently. "Nice of the Exalted family to turn that into a rad museum before they moved to a more private setting—I think it was that place where the old Shepherds barracks stood two thousand years ago?"

I could have sworn I heard Mr. Stalker's breath hitch at that, but I ignored him and whatever drama he was suddenly having.

"Yep. Man, you really know your history, don't you?" The shopkeeper said. "I know I got my know-how from a good friend of mine, but people like you are one of a kind."

"I take after my parents. Huge history buffs, them. You'd think people being high up on the political ladder would change things, but eh," I said, shrugging. I began stepping towards the doorway. "Anyway, I gotta go…?"

"Rick."

"Gotcha. Well, then, ciao." I gave Rick a two-fingered wave, the stalker a meaningful stare, and the door a push forward.

Once I emerged into the busy streets, I made sure to take several steps out of view of the shop. I stuffed my hands into my hoodie's pockets and leaned against the brick wall, waiting for Mr. Stalker to meet me. If he decided to cut and run, I knew what he looked like; I knew how tall he was, what clothes he wore. And best of all, I knew where the police station was located.

It only took a full minute before the white-haired guy finally stood before me, patiently waiting for me to speak. Upon closer inspection, the design of his cloak was much more elaborate and reminded me of a picture I've seen about the Avatar wearing a similar style. He stood a full foot taller than me, and was that a faint hint of guilt on his face? I confirmed that it was.

Okay, now here was the craziest part of my equally crazy plan. I took a deep breath, exhaled, and pushed myself off the wall with my hands. I turned and marched to him. I stared at him long and hard, and then I firmly grabbed his arm and pulled him with me as I began walking towards a location where I knew I could settle this.

The guy jerked back in a show of resistance at first, but a flash of a sour look from me was all it took to make him ease up and keep pace. The wiser choice was probably dragging this guy straight to the police, but somehow… I dunno.

As the tall, elegant buildings built of glass and steel passed by me as I continued taking step after step on the sidewalk, tuning out the sounds of cars and buses at the same time, it occurred to me that things would probably be easier if I recognized the guy from somewhere, maybe a bar or a nightclub. Or a library, or my college back hom.

But I didn't. He was a total stranger, a total nobody. I didn't know what I did to even get his attention.

Last I checked, I was nothing but a Plegian college girl who decided to do a majority of her research here in Ylisse. Packed my bags, rode a bus, and got an apartment rented for one month in the safest part of the city. And, day and night, I did nothing but go to the Ylisse Grand Library to read books. I went to a diner for all food-related concerns, and to the commercial district to rest my brain and do some mindless window shopping. Then I'd go back home when I was ready to get writing till my eyes rolled out of their sockets.

It had been one week since my stay here—I never talked to anybody beyond business. Never made friends, just kept to myself because I had a relatively busy schedule.

And in terms of someone needing something from me, I was pretty sure I had nothing to offer, either. I kept a tight budget, and the stuff I owned were as valuable as fake jewelry. But practical. Always practical.

I doubt I was being eyed for a one-night stand, either, because I looked more haggard than pretty recently with matching eye bags earned from coffee-filled all-nighters. Wouldn't stop a rapist because they didn't discriminate, probably, but they usually went after the pretty girls first.

Though just to get this established, I'd sooner cut someone's manhood off if he ever did so much as force himself on me.

Anyway. Basically, I offered nothing of interest, so I'd always go back to the question of why this guy decided I was someone he was creepily interested in. Last I checked, my older sister had all the assets I'd wanted and more. And my brother? Well, I'd like to say I was the brains of the family, but he was always eager to prove me wrong.

"So, where are you manhandling me to?" The creep in question asked as I turned around a corner. I turned my head from side to side, looking for the landmarks I'd familiarized myself with, and headed into a certain direction the moment I did. Flower shops were pretty memorable.

"You don't get to talk until we get there," I told him with as much authority I could muster, still looking straight ahead, and still weaving through crowds of people while maintaining a vice-grip on this guy's arm. I knew that he could easily pry my hand off of him if he tried, though. The muscles I felt while holding his arms were telling enough of his strength. Thankfully, he hadn't tried anything so far. "But I assure you, if you turn out to have a legit reason for doing… this, I'll let you go. So I suggest you pick a god and pray for the meantime."

"Interesting choice of words there," he said anyway. I wanted to elbow him for that, but then I'd be inviting him to hit me back.

So instead, I went the high road and completely ignored him.

Silence thankfully ensued between the two of us as I continued walking. Or at least, as silent as it could be when there's noisy cars, chatty locals and tourists alike, and crying children. The latter ranked the worst. The sun was steadily lowering in the horizon, and that was a silent reminder enough that if I wanted to go to this spot I had in mind, I needed to be there while there was still daylight.

It wasn't exactly the safest… or the cleanest… of places in Ylisstol in general, but well, beggars can't be choosers. This city had a pretty low crime rate from what I've heard, but life in Plegia taught me that I could never be too careful. Especially when I've long since removed myself from the family household.

Eventually, I finally reached my destination: an isolated alleyway that smelled faintly of piss and garbage from the shut dumpsters by the brown brick walls. It was definitely far from the most ideal of locations ever and the buzzing flies didn't help matters, but what I wanted was privacy and I sure as hell wasn't going to invite this guy into my apartment. Walls there were thin, anyway... which made for some pretty awkward nights due to the overly-passionate couple doing the do in the room beside mine.

Gods, that was what I got for being a total cheapskate.

I released my grip on the guy's arm, stepped back, crossed my arms, and looked at him. He didn't run at all.

"This is the place?" The guy asked with a look of doubt on his face as he inspected our surroundings. He was absently rubbing the arm I'd been gripping—I must've done it too tightly.

Suddenly I felt the slightest pang of guilt—wait, no, shut up, Robin. You didn't feel guilty. He was a stalker. And you hit people when they piss you off, anyway.

"Yes, and if you're thinking about objecting, do suggest a better, private location," I said.

"I would, but I'm not from here either," he replied. He made a face as the wind picked up and blew some of the stench towards us. I'll grudgingly admit that I looked disgusted, too. "You've a poor choice in locations."

"Sacrifices must be made for the good of the realm. Deal with it," I snarked. After making sure that the wall was free of any gunk and the ground clean of grime or trash, I turned my back against it and leaned until I was resting on its surface. I crossed my arms. "Now talk. Why were you following me? I'd pegged you as a stalker at first, but you're going against all my stereotypes."

He didn't answer at once.

When I raised my eyebrows and looked at him, he visibly had trouble forming the words in his mouth. His hand kept opening and closing, and he couldn't decide whether he wanted to fold his arms or let them hang by his sides. It was as if he completely forgot what he'd meant to do now that he's come into contact with me.

And somehow, I had this strange feeling that he wasn't struggling to create a lie complicated enough that I wouldn't want to ask any questions. Rather, he was giving me the impression that he wanted to tell me something that I wouldn't normally believe. Like, a logic-defying something.

But that's just stupid. Of course that wasn't the case.

I counted fifteen awkward seconds before he seemed to finally relax. But there was something about the intensity in his amber eyes—as he met my violet ones—that gave me this feeling that I should brace myself for something.

"If you won't mind, please answer this question first: how much do you know about Ylisse?" He began. And noticing my are-you-trying-to-ask-the-obvious kind of expression on my face, he elaborated, "Ancient Ylisse, I mean. From… two thousand years ago. Just humor me."

The historian side of me immediately perked up and took over. Recalling everything I've known, I recited it all.

Two thousand years ago was the time when Ylisse was at war with Plegia. As the history books had said, it was then when then-Exalt Emmeryn sacrificed herself to halt the war between the two nations. It worked, and most Plegian soldiers involved in the war began doubting themselves.

King Gangrel, the man who started that war, was defeated after losing the loyalty of his armies and was beheaded by Chrom as punishment. The war ended, and Chrom had become the Exalt after the accession ceremony. He'd been later advised to find a wife and get an heir post-haste, and some time later, that's exactly what happened.

But then, as I'd found out, the events after that was hard to digest. Data concerning the Valm campaign were vague at best, and it didn't help that there were reports of 'future children' returning to the past to aid their parents. Through some kind of magical portal, no less. That killed some credibility. Okay, a lot of credibility. The world I had now had some pretty logic-defying stuff, but never ones that quite reached time traveler-tier.

Anyway, the information I'd gathered so far from numerous sources only became clear when the real threat emerged: Grima, the Fell Dragon. Long story short, there was an epic fight between Chrom's army and that dragon, and it was with the help of the tactician that Grima was felled for good. As to who that tactician was, the man or woman who had been with Chrom since day one, nobody knew.

I didn't know how it ended, either. Just that Grima was defeated at a great cost.

And that piece of mystery sure as hell was making one portion of my thesis difficult to write. It had been hard enough to find records of events from two thousand years. The data I've gathered in Plegia had been too biased and too in favor of then-King Validar, which was also why I thought of going here.

"That's it, basically," I finished.

Also, that bit of exposition I did there reminded me of just how vastly different the present was as compared to the past. The tall buildings, vehicles, electronics, and everything else were nothing but crazy ideas two thousand years ago. Then again, I thought that the existence of taguels and manaketes were crazy. There was more nature than artificial constructs, and people went from point A to point B by walking. A lot. And there was no electricity to light up a house with, just oil lamps or candles. I had a certain appreciation for the kind of simple life people must have lived then.

And weapons had been more traditional then—except for magic which, like I've said, barely changed. Other than becoming a daily utility for certain activities, magic became some kind of dueling sport between two mages.

"I see. Then you know what needs to be known," the white-haired guy said. "So. What if I told you that time-traveling or world-hopping can be done?"

I immediately snorted. "I know magic is magic, but that's stretching reality."

"I'm dead serious."

"Serious, says he." I snickered. "Oh, gods, are you drunk? Let me guess, you've been 'world-hopping' just to find me and…"

I trailed off the moment I saw the look on his face, my mouth hanging slightly open.

Fun fact: I never normally trail off. But his serious expression and the intense look in his eyes just sent me to an uncharacteristic dead stop. And... the longer he looked at me, the more my stomach was flip-flopping. He had a silent message conveyed in such simple ways, and now I wanted to just skedaddle and forget this day ever happened. I never ran off like a coward, either.

I didn't want to hear what he had to say.

"Robin…" the man began. And now I was having that kind of moment when the temperature around me felt like it dropped a hundred degrees because gods damn it I never mentioned my name in his presence even once.

"What?"

Without mercy or reconsideration, he dropped the bomb, just like that.

"You've been gone from your real world long enough. It's time to come back home."

A/N: And there we have it, folks, the first chapter. I've got The Right Hand of Light (/u/6429146) to thank for the whole future!Ylisse idea and for making the darn bunnies hop in the first place, and... that's about it, honestly. If there's any concerns, corrections, or suggestions, please don't hesitate to post a review. Thank you!