These are just a few small ideas that were shuffling around my head for a while. I'm very fond of the Morgan and Lucina pairing so it's nice to write about them.

This'll come in 5 parts. As always, thank you for reading.

Scene 1: Stars

"Lucina."

She turned her head and made out his form in the darkness. His face became clearer as he strolled toward her. "There you are. I had a hunch you'd be on this hill. I was right."

"Were you looking for me, Morgan?"

"Yeah – oh, but don't worry. There's nothing urgent going on. I was just curious as to what you do when the fighting's finished. It seems like you disappear from camp sometimes."

"I often search for places like this, where there's a clear view of the sky." She hesitated a moment. Then she gestured toward the spot on the grass next to her. "If you want, you can join me in gazing at the stars."

So then they were seated side-by-side. He'd plopped down a bit closer than she'd expected, actually, and at once it was difficult to resist looking at him; to be impressed with how near he was.

"Pretty," Morgan remarked obliviously, staring up at the stars. "But it's more than that, right? I bet they have a special meaning for you."

"I'm not sure what you have in mind when you say that, but . . ." She realized that she was glancing at him far too often, trying to figure out the direction of his eyes, to pinpoint exactly which star he was looking at. Quickly she fixed her eyes to the sky before he would notice. She didn't want him to catch her stare, for it would surely reveal too much. "Um, Lady Tiki told me that some people believe the stars are really the departed."

"Whoa. So people go into the night sky after death?"

"According to some."

"And are they looking down at us, the same way we're looking up at them?"

"Maybe? No one knows for sure. It's all theories and tales." A lump formed in her throat suddenly. Some of these stars appeared brighter than others. Some drew her eye more than others. "I wonder at times if my father and mother might be up there."

"Huh? But they're still –"

"The ones from my own timeline, I mean. The ones who died." She shook her head, dismissing the idea before it grew too heavy. "But why would they be in this sky? The parents I lost were of a different world, and the ones in this world are still alive."

Several moments passed into eternity, completely without comment. Perhaps she'd silenced him. A bit tired, she lowered her forehead to her drawn-up knees and sighed.

It was when she sensed a peculiar shift in the air that she looked up again. It startled her to find that Morgan had soundlessly moved closer to her. Their bodies did not touch, but he was so near, she'd only need to reach out a little bit. That soft smile on his face took up much of her field of vision.

"I think it's possible." His voice was warm – honey in audible form. That lilt sounded almost mystical. "I think they could be up there. Maybe they took a similar path to you and me. If people can travel through time, then why not stars?"

His words hung in the air for a while, like mist after a rainfall. Her eyes were still lingering on his face when she found herself rising to her feet. Standing up tall, she finally shifted her gaze from him to the sky. And then she lifted an arm and waved as widely as she could. Just in case her father and mother really were floating among the stars. Just in case they could see her.

If they could, she hoped it would make them happy to catch a glimpse of her.

She waved until her arm ached. When she eventually lowered it to her side, her head still swam with memories. "The stars," she said, "seem brighter here than they do in the future. Did I ever mention that?"

She hadn't looked behind her, but somehow she'd known that Morgan was still there.

"That's a beautiful thing to hear," he replied. "When you say nice things like that to me, it makes me want to say nice things back to you. I wish I was able to tell you what the stars looked like for me."

She turned to see him. He didn't return her gaze; his eyes focused on the sky. His expression was plain, giving away nothing. He appeared as though their conversation was still normal. Pleasant.

"You don't remember what the stars looked like in the future." Somehow that line came out sounding more despairing than Lucina intended.

He shrugged, at ease. "I don't mind not remembering. If the world truly was anything like you describe: death and doom everywhere . . ."

His voice trailed off, but she already understood. "Maybe it is better that you don't remember," she murmured.

"Maybe. That's how I like to think of it." He paused then. When he spoke again, his voice seemed more measured. "Actually, I've got to admit, sometimes I really get terribly curious about what happened to me. It makes me feel so unsure about things. Do I want to remember the future I came from? Do I really want to remember whatever evils drove me to go back in time?"

Lucina's hands had clasped together. She wasn't sure what for. "Are you so certain that it was evil that drove you? Maybe your motivation was something good. Maybe you just wanted to give your parents some company."

A short laugh broke from him. "Nice try, but you don't have to work so hard to cheer me up. I'm plenty cheerful on my own!" He was still staring at the stars, unaware of how she had already stopped doing the same. She couldn't tear her gaze from him. It felt as though that shining smile was meant for her, even though he was sending it toward the inky sky. "I wonder why I'm so cheerful. Maybe it's the amnesia, but I think mainly it's just something inside of me that makes me like this. But you . . . I'm not sure if that's something you have in you. So, I'm very glad to hear that you can look to the stars instead. We all need something that'll give us hope."

"You . . ." The sentence died at her lips before the entirety could make it out. Even that one word apparently didn't reach his ears, since he didn't react at all.

In her mind she was seeing shadows of her dark future. What a familiar state to be in. She often found herself remembering, the flashes of memory descending upon her involuntarily.

The initial feeling of being helpless was inevitable, even as she told herself that she was strong enough to handle her own mind, of all things. She had a coping mechanism for this – match every grim memory with a happy one, or two. Bury the despair with thoughts of love and hope. It would, and had to, always work.

He was right, that looking at the bright stars here was helpful for calming her heart. But if she had not failed to say that whole sentence, he would've heard her say: You have become a source of hope for me, as well.

He probably didn't even know what he was doing. He thought of himself as a mere friend, acting nice. When he brought her a bunch of fresh-picked flowers, or wrote a simple song so he could sing it to her – he probably didn't know that he was creating memories that she would later replay in her head, as she lay on her bedroll, praying to keep the nightmares away.

She would think of her parents, her friends – but in the end, her mind always wound up turning to him. She wasn't sure when she had acquired that habit, but it was with her now, unable to be removed. He was amazing. He was her signal of optimism. Whenever it felt as though the gloom might consume her, he was the lifeline to which she held on strongest.

A yawn from him cut into her thoughts. "I think I'm going to sleep. Night, Lucina."

As he started to walk away, an impulse struck her heart like lightning. "Wait."

He stopped. He looked back at her curiously.

Gazing at him, with the way the shade and the moonlight played over his face, she found her nerves overwhelming. However, even stronger was the wave of affection swiftly rising within her. It was a powerful warmth, drowning out her doubts and leading her into the next few moments of time. Right now, she wanted to be close to him more than anything else in the world.

She had a feeling that after this confession, she would never again be able to stop thinking about him. But she wouldn't mind so much. He was worth memorizing.

"Before you go," she said, "let me give you a parting gift."

"Parting gift? Lucina, I'm only retiring to my tent for the night. I'm not leaving forev –"

His voice vanished when she stepped forward to close the distance between them. Her gentle hands came to rest on his shoulders. Her eyes searched him for any hint of alarm or unwillingness, but he met her gaze without trouble. And although they both held still, underneath her hands she sensed the anticipation within him. Reassured, she leaned down and brought her lips to his.

She imagined that she kissed a fragile little bird – a little bird with whom she was deeply enamored. She held herself more carefully than she ever had in her life, barely allowing the time of a breath to pass before she drew back.

In the night air, her face was so hot that she thought one might burn their hand by touching it. As for his face, it was harder to tell. She didn't know how to interpret those wide eyes – that stunned expression.

"Um," she said. "Well, good night."

Her head in a wild fever, she tried to walk away, but he stopped her quickly. "Wait."

She looked back at him.

"I want to give you a parting gift too," Morgan said.

He copied her earlier approach, placing his hands on her shoulders first. Hesitation flickered across his face, but it disappeared after a heartbeat.

She closed her eyes so she wouldn't see, only feel, his kiss.

They lingered longer this time, but it still seemed brief once they pulled apart. Without another word – without even looking at each other for more than a few instants – they turned to go their separate ways. Perhaps they both sensed that if they stayed here for much longer, neither of them would ever want to leave. They'd want to stay in this scene, in this moment of the night, like a pair forever frozen in a painting.

As she walked, Lucina felt on her shoulders the weight of a future very different from the one she normally thought about.