Author's Note: Hey there, everyone! This is my first foray into the fanfic world of Fire Emblem! This story was really overdue, seeing as I've told fellow author, Dane Namor, I'd do it months ago. One ruined desktop, distracting games, focusing on other stories, and some lost progress later, I'll finally get to write something I've wanted to do since I made a pen-name!
Also, Happy Birthday to Morgan! What better time to start up this story than today?
Hope you like it, because... it's different! Maybe?
Disclaimer: Fire Emblem is the property of Nintendo and Intelligent Systems. I do not claim ownership of anything pertaining to the series, nor of any related properties. Any and all other references to other works are also not owned by me. This is a nonprofit fan work.
Picture Credit: Official illustration of Female Morgan for Fire Emblem: Awakening, by Yusuke Kozaki. Man, I wanted to create a crappy MSPaint portrait of Morgan with a heart above her head, but arrangements screwed with that! Damn...
Pairing Warning: Male Robin/Tharja, Various others based on my playthrough, Female Morgan/?
Rated T for: Language, suggestive themes, ENDGAME, POSTGAME, AND SPOTPASS SPOILERS, and...
Original Post Date: 5/5/14
"Hmm, I see. Thank you, Father! I now know what to do should I ever be cornered by a group of Paladins and Wyvern Lords in a dark alleyway!"
"Hah! Although the advice I gave may be sound, tell me, how did you even come up with such an absurd situation? Halfway through, you told me they sprout ballistae from their chest and threatened to open fire!"
Robin had been spending time in his tent with his daughter, Morgan, who had recounted a hypothetical situation she begged her father to resolve. She takes after her father with her love of learning tactics and strategem. Coupled with her boundless energy and fatherly admiration, Morgan was exhausting for the Chief Tactician.
After some weeks of traveling the land, the Shepherds eventually encountered Lucina's comrades from the future, and whenever each and every one would reveal their parentage, the couple in question had very interesting reactions. Morgan was one such person, and the story surrounding her discovery was certainly one for the scholars to write and have a laugh about..., when the wife was nowhere to be found. Although Morgan had lost a great deal of her memories, along with forgetting her mother and sister for the most part, every day was positive for the junior tactician.
"Father, how does one get such a high score in Tome Stackers like you do?"
Robin looked up from his charts and gave his future daughter a puzzled look. "A... high score," he muttered, "I don't think I understand, Morgan."
One index finger from her pointed to Robin's workstation, where he found that the various hardcover books he had amassed throughout his career as Chief Tactician were reaching up to the point that it bulged out of his tent. Morgan looked at it in awe, while her father could only feel embarrassed.
"I..., uh, don't think that was on purpose, Morgan..."
His response only intensified the admiration in her eyes. "Ahh! You have become so well-trained that you achieve this without even trying! I must strive to become more diligent, so I can one day be your equal, Father!" With that, Morgan immediately began working on her own contribution to the almighty sport of Tome Stacking.
When Robin looked at what Morgan was doing now, he was less than pleased. "That is not something you should emula— Is that Gaius' Confectionary Catalogue?" Sure enough, his daughter just placed in the pile a sticky-looking book decorated in hardened faux-frosting. Whatever made it sticky should probably be left for someone else to find out.
"He's been scouring the camp all day for— No, not Owain's 'Tales of the Pheraean Prince'!" A seemingly weathered tome with a portrait said to be of a young Eliwood of Pherae. This wasn't any ancient treasure, however, as Owain kept saying it was. It had literally been purchased off of Anna a few days ago, and she even said to his face that she copied it off another publication when she made it! Owain then proceeded to subject the tome to all kinds of procedures to get it to look old. From leaving it in the bonfire to dropping it into barrels of water, it constituted abuse to literature; a crime that Robin doesn't easily forgive.
"I mean, I don't particularly care if he uses the Einherjar to reenact the scenes, but he cries so very nasally when he gets denied even one thing to— Have you gone daft?!" Morgan produced an utterly large tome that was almost her size and about twice as wide! A leather-bound tome that had a simple picture of two clashing weapons on it, one of which was a certain conqueror's Wolf Berg. "That monstrous tome belonged— er, belongs to Walhart! Something about a manifesto or— You know what, I care even less about it being used like this right now." the tactician grumbled. "The dastard had me listen to the latest chapters he had written in Risen blood. I was unaware they even had blood, seeing as whenever I slayed one they crumbled and evaporated into dust! He went on and on about the mess hall was the one thing that would prove his theories correct about how if it disappeared, his way of ruling would be completely correct!"
He mentioned "belongs" in a present tense when it came to the Conqueror, so it would be safe to assume that this is where the spoiler warning comes in.
Anyways, the Shepherds had recently gone through a grueling ordeal, having cut a swath through a horde of Risen at Origin Peak and defeated the one major figure on the way to Grima, the late Validar's right-hand woman, the wily and seductive Aversa. After the Fell Dragon took to the skies around there, however, is where the tale gets strange...
In the days after the Divine Dragon, Naga, would offer her assistance in reaching the Fell Dragon, a strange lull swept over the Shepherds' mindset, causing each and every member to not feel rushed in taking this final stand for the fate of the world, to the utter bafflement of Naga herself.
It seemed that the Fell Dragon also shared this feeling, as it just hovered around Origin Peak doing nothing menacing except being an eyesore in all this time. Perplexing.
The Shepherds spent some of their time venturing in the Outrealms, indulging in slaying unusually lucrative and experienced Risen, enjoying the odd resorts that were in place, and generally picking fights with every single tough dastard they came across. Never again would they doubt the power of the Annas...
Then..., they came across a certain chain of events, which definitely brought mixed reactions to every one of them.
As they ventured south into some outlaying islands, the Shepherds encountered a roving gang of seafaring bandits who have had a hand in subjugating many coastal towns and ports. As they effortlessly quelled the threat, however, the Exalt, Chrom, came face-to-face with someone he never expected to have to meet again...
The Mad King, Gangrel, responsible for leading the Theocracy of Plegia to a bloody war with the Halidom of Ylisse and relishing in the death of the former Exalt, Chrom and Lissa's sister Emmeryn, stood there pathetically mopping the sand amidst the death around him that the Shepherds were dealing.
Chrom tried to be diplomatic and understanding, like his sister would be, but saying that him flinging the Exalted Falchion at Gangrel and attempting to strangle him was either of those things would be lying. It didn't help that the fallen king kept trying to leap and run into the paths of the Shepherds' attacks like it was going out of style. Only through a combination of pity and restraining the Exalt would they emerge victorious and with Gangrel in one piece, volunteering him to join shortly after.
This would be a sign of things to come.
Not long after recruiting the Mad King, something beckoned the Shepherds to go north from Valm Castle, where they had once fought a campaign, with the aid of the Resistance as well as the Voice of the Divine Dragon and straight into the heart of Walhart's forces.
Lo and behold there he stood in a vast field, thought beaten, the Conqueror in command of fearsome classes of Risen ready to do battle.
The Shepherds won. Walhart lost... and joined. End of story...
... is what would be said, had it not have been for—
"Father, are you okay?"
Robin awoke from his bout of introspective daydreaming, which was brought about due to the fact that he had been staring up at how high Morgan was stacking tomes. Dear gods, it had to have been at least twice as high as his tent! The energetic girl somehow found the time and effort to cut a hole through the roof and kept stacking like there was no tomorrow.
'Well, it has been that kind of journey, after all...' he thought, running a hand through his Type 2-styled black hair. It was that kind of world, after all.
Morgan had been staring at her father for a bit, wondering just exactly what he was thinking. In the end, she came up with the right answer...
"You know, Father, sometimes you can be rather strange." she said with an innocent look to her features, before turning back to work on her stack.
Robin had to restrain himself from verbally reprimanding his daughter, only to find that... she might be right. Having gotten to know each and every Shepherd most likely involved losing a bit of one's sanity, given the amounts of problems each and every one had. Especially the woman he had married, hoo boy! But Robin would never dare to even think that, lest his wife somehow sense it and—
"Robin, my dear~"
"Gah!"
Robin leapt up from his seat in surprise, yelping as high as his Type 3 voice could. As soon as his heart began beating in his chest again, he turned to his workstation and looked below the table...
"Oh! Oh, thank the gods, it's only you, Tharja...!"
Reclining underneath the table with her legs propped up on the side was his wife, Tharja. The best way to describe her would be calling her a dark beauty, for underneath her soft smile and supple body lies an extremely dark personality that neither friend nor foe would ever wish to cross. Always showing preferential treatment towards Robin even in the most public of settings, it came as a surprise to no one when he eventually proposed to her.
"Yes, my love? What is it you... need from me, hm?" Tharja smiled slyly at her husband, slowly shifting her body and tantalizing him with the sounds her clothing made as they rubbed against her skin and the oaken desk. Robin flustered at her advances; even after she awakened an amorous side in him, he still tried to maintain an image of stability during the day, especially since...
"Tharja, I'm very glad to see you," he sighed, before quietly ranting, "but Morgan is right behind me, and I still have to finalize these marching plans for our final assault against Grima, and Frederick is a stickler for punctu—"
His wife then held a silencing finger to Robin's mouth, propping herself up on his chair while kneeling on the floor. Her right arm was surreptitiously placed right by his lap...
"Shh-shh-shh, of course, you're a very busy man," she said under her breath, "but when you need to relax, Robin...," she held his name on her tongue for a second as she slowly slinked back into her cubby right below his work surface, "then you let me know. Whenever you want."
Robin audibly gulped. Tharja was always very persuasive with her mannerisms, but she never overstepped the boundary by following through with forceful actions; she allowed Robin to choose to love her. This was true back when before they were married, but now that they were, well..., at least Morgan was present to prevent her mother from going hands-on with her father...
"Is that Mother?" Morgan chirped from the height of her tome stack, probably about three tents high. How did she get up there? How tall is that stack?!
Tharja sighed from her hideaway, tiredly greeting "Yeah, hello Morgan..." while halfheartedly waving her hand.
"Hi, Mother! It's great that the family's all here!" Letting go of the stack, Morgan quickly dropped to the ground, much to the shock of her father.
"Morgan, what the...?!"
Morgan quickly pulled out a package from her tactician's robe, holding it out in front of her as she plummeted with a smile on her face.
In no time at all, a magical circle had formed underneath her and upon impact, kicked up a bunch of feathers with her soft landing. Feathers?
"Ah, that was thrilling! I love this new tome of mine!" Morgan cheered, snuggling with what was apparently a magic tome by her cheeks.
Robin found himself frozen in fear with his arm outstretched, almost as if he were trying to reach out for Morgan before her "last moments".
"Well, Noire's not here, so I guess the family isn't all here! What's with that look on your face, Father? Haha, you're silly!"
Morgan's reverie broke Robin out of his stupor, just as Tharja emerged from beneath the desk to stand beside him.
"A-Anyway... Morgan!" Robin shouted.
The junior tactician locked up when her father addressed as such."Y-Yes, Father?"
"Do you have any idea how worried your mother and I were with that jape?!"
"I wasn't worried."
Robin quickly turned his neck to find his Dark Mage wife smirking... darkly. Then again, she didn't really have any other kind of smirk.
"M-Mother's right," Morgan clumsily started, fumbling to present Robin the tome she used to safely descend. "Look! This is pretty nifty magic here!"
Father Dearest eyed the now unwrapped book with a scrutinizing look. It looked innocuous enough: the book's covers were indented with runic letters, with a golden feather emblazoned in the top center. Morgan held it closed, so he couldn't peruse its passages, but the lettering on the cover told him all he needed to know.
"Falcons' Loft?"
"Yup," nodded Morgan, "it's a much better-sounding name than 'Pillow Tome', am I right?" Expecting her parents to agree with her, her smile fell when neither of them said a thing. "Aww..."
Robin had a stern look for his daughter as he asked, "And what would have happened if the magic had failed you, Morgan?"
"Hmm, I think it's proven that my head is harder than most?" Morgan didn't seem to grasp her father's sense of worry. "Anyway, it wouldn't have failed! Laurent made this for me, isn't he the greatest?"
"Laurent? Miriel and Kellam's boy?" Robin asked himself. Yes, the very same studious, young man whom they found in a desert village somehow, after various instances of fighting brigands, following clues, encountering mirages that looked way too real, and leaving with a healing staff said to have been blessed by a goddess. Robin still keeps finding sand on his person to this day.
"Mm-hmm!" Morgan then stashed away her Pillow Tome. "He keeps finding out all this fun stuff to do with magic! He's so smart!"
Robin inwardly groaned, having seen the young man perfect and tweak these kinds of novelty spells before. Citing a fascination with these mundane magics that he and the future mage had, it made sense that Laurent would wish to further their usefulness.
Tharja couldn't look any more disinterested if she tried. "Hmm, that's nice, Morgan," she droned, "Don't you have something else you could be doing?"
"Oh! Yes, I do! Thank you, Mother!" To her father's surprise and her mother's relief, Morgan quickly grabbed a book from the stack, miraculously not causing it to fall, and quickly ran out of the tent.
...
"Huh?"
Robin stepped out of the tent to follow her, much to the chagrin of his possessive wife, and saw that Morgan had stuck her fingers in her mouth, whistling sharply into the air. Robin looked on as his daughter stood there, waiting for something to happen.
"Morgan, what exactly is going—"
At that point, a sudden rush of air blew down on the area, causing the tent to flap and the tome stack to sway dangerously. It wasn't long before an aged wyvern carefully set itself down in front of the tactician child. In its mouth it held a curious accessory...
"Ah, thanks Minerva! You're the best!" thanked Morgan as she began rubbing the top of the wyvern's head, accepting the thing she held in her mouth. It was Gerome's mask, as evidenced from an irate young man yelling in the distance. As thanks, Morgan presented with the tome she plucked earlier, setting it inside the wyvern's anticipating maw. "He can have that! Good girl!"
Minerva growled contently at Morgan's continued petting, before she took flight and kicked up some more disruptive wind.
Robin slowly walked up to his daughter and cleared his throat, surprising his daughter and causing Morgan to jump up.
"AHH! OH! Father, don't do that," she panted, clutching the area around her heart, "you almost scared the hair off my head!"
The tactician stopped before her, looking a little lost as he asked, "Morgan, is that... Gerome's mask?"
Immediately perking up, Morgan proudly proclaimed, "Yup! That guy is so serious all the time, I figured he should lighten up by me relieving him of some weight!" as she held up the future wyvern rider's mask up like a trophy. "I gave him a book on masks, too! He at least deserves some choices in what to hide his face in. My gold is on the mask of Legion!"
To say that Robin was starting to feel exhausted with his future daughter's antics would be an understatement.
"As much as I am... grateful to hear you are finding ways to entertain yourself, Morgan, I must return to my planning. Grima waits for no man."
To this, Morgan tilted her head in an expression of uncertainty. "I thought that he was?"
Robin couldn't refute that logic. Seriously, the Shepherds spent what felt like months venturing in the Outrealms, as well as traveling to the farthest reaches of this world and somehow recruiting people thought to have been dead! Well, Gangrel had been bloodied by an avenging Chrom before the reencounter, Walhart was dubious due to the fact that he then led Risen against them, Emmeryn was a rather tragic case, Yen'fay was from a different future, confirming that this world's version is dead, and Aversa had been unceremoniously plucked from the air by Noire's arrow, falling flat on her wrinkled, stupid face. She hadn't died from that, either! Robin still has no idea what to make of Priam. Wait, he wasn't dead to begin with...
P-Point is, the Fell Dragon sure was taking its sweet time!
Morgan shook her head a bit and unerringly chirped, "Anyway, you are right, Father! I have to go anyway, it's almost time for my date with Inigo!"
Robin jarringly changed expression into one of shock and unexpected surprise. "Inigo? Wait, what is this about a da—"
"Please don't disturb my Tome Stack, Father! Bye!" Morgan ran off without worrying to look back.
The Chief Tactician just stood there, mouth agape at what he just heard. "My Morgan... is going out on a d...d-d, date?"
"Of course she is, Robin." Robin didn't move as Tharja stepped out of the tent with a swish to her movements. "That girl is at about that age, which means that the intoxicating need for companionship now spreads deep into her mind. I neither have the care nor interest in stopping my... daughter with her newfound interest." With that, she gently grabs Robin's limp arm and pulls it in the direction of the now-unoccupied tent. With a soft voice and an inviting look in her eyes, Tharja said, "Come. Let us retire for the afternoon, and spend time... quenching the need for companionship~."
To her surprise, Robin pulled away from her embrace, finding himself pacing back and forth as he began to stutter, "I, I know that that is p-perfectly reasonable, but s-something inside me is telling me to not accept this, like this is completely and unequivocally wrong!" The very thought of Morgan so much as talking to a boy was starting to enrage him.
Tharja... didn't use the right words to calm him down, that's for sure... "Morgan is... a unique child. She's optimistic and hopeful, joy, and that tends to draw people in, so to speak. If Minerva there has taken a liking to her, perhaps more young men wish to seek out our daughter..."
Robin's eyes shot up in realization.
'Dear gods, they are! The future boys have been starting to act awkward around Morgan!'
Why, just the other day, Brady was accusing her to be a spy, and before that, Owain made it pretty clear he considered her to be his "destined partner"! Yarne also seemed to tolerate her frighteningly forward advances on his ears...! ... Then again, she's so energetic compared to them, that perhaps they just couldn't keep up. Still, Inigo was a known ladychaser, and Gerome wasn't the type of person to easily let Minerva get attached to other people. Even Laurent was starting to act this way, sharing an affinity with books, even though he was even less accepting of Tome Stackers.
'Hmm, perhaps Laurent would not be a bad— NO! No young man is going to court my daughter unless I say so! That is final!' An unusual sense of foreboding began to cloud his thoughts; no one was going to take his daughter away from him!
His wife picked up on the change and actually felt the hairs behind her head stand on edge. However, Tharja was the type to derive pleasure from such sensations. Especially from her beloved. "Oh, Robin~," she pleasantly moaned, cupping her hands around her face, "The darkness inside you is swirling around with such drive! It is positively enthralling!" The honey dripping from her words made it clear she relished her husband's current disposition.
Robin snapped out of his daze and quickly turned around to meet her, holding his hands up as he panickedly yelled, "N-NO! There's nothing dark about this! I... I was only thinking that... m-maybe Morgan is starting to draw the other lads' attention, and... it sounds petty now that I think about it." His panicked tone mellowed out when he realized what he was saying. "Ugh, that was revolting of me to even think...," he sullenly mumbled.
Tharja then approached Robin and quietly whispered in his ear, "Morgan had accepted a pair of gemstones from the imaginative boy..."
That teared it.
With a crazed look in his eyes, Robin stormed back into his tent and yelled "NO ONE'S GOING TO LAY THEIR HANDS ON MY DAUGHTER! EVEN IF SHE'S THE ONE INITIATING IT!" The Chief Tactician brusquely swept all of the war strategies and tomes off his desk, and brought out the roster that he had of the entire army. The pages went in a blur as he went through it, stopping every so often and gingerly to earmark where the sections of each individual lad began, before resuming to burn through the book.
"So, all these boys want to get acquainted with my daughter...! I will just have to see what I can do about that!" Whether it was out of parental worry or dark powers, Robin sounded very unbalanced. He would formulate a plan after acquiring more information on each of them. Owain, Brady, Laurent, Inigo, Yarne, and Gerome, all needed to be scoped out to determine whether or not they were a threat to Morgan's... safety.
But what if Morgan would be the one to seek them out...?
So many variables, and Robin's mind was on fire; hopefully his renowned thought process will win out the day, and find out who is on Morgan's mind!
Still standing outside, Tharja sinisterly giggled to herself for inciting this change in her husband's behavior. "My, I don't think I can contain myself! Seeing Robin so flustered is sparking something deep within my core! Of course, him assuming the role of a protective father is its own kind of satisfaction! Mmm-hmhmhm...!"
As she turned to hopefully reap the benefits of her actions, however, someone hurried up to her and stopped.
"Excuse me, Sunshine?"
She didn't have to turn around to know that Gaius the thief had been the one to address her, though the unusual pattering of his feet to his regularly flippant manner of his speech was a concern.
"What is it? Can't you see I'm about to become busy?"
"Do you know if Bubbles Jr had a book on her or put it somewhere or— Ah, screw it!" With a slight shove and a short apology, Gaius barged into Robin's tent.
"Hey! What are you— Don't touch that! Gaius, why—!"
"Teach your kid not to steal, Bubbles! 'Specially if it's from me. Now if you'll excuse me, I got some apple crisps to track down!"
Gaius exited as quickly as he left, with sticky Confectionary Catalogue in hand, and making off for the nearest town.
Robin peeked out from the tent in stunned silence, before looking up and finding the Tome Stack had been unaffected by the candy enthusiast's rummaging.
"Well..., that happened."
"Indeed," started Tharja, before grabbing her husband by the collar and dragging him inside while sweetly saying, "You need to relax, my love, come and relieve your anguish in the arms of your wife! Mmhmhm!"
"W-Wait! I still need to—"
Robin's protests would be muffled by the flaps of his tent closing in.
Oh well, perhaps his planning and investigations could stand to start a little later...
A/N: The tales of an overprotective father begins! Also, everyone's kinda nuts: the story! Yeah, I may have played fast and loose with the characters here... Then again, this is a humor story.
This story was also released under a self-imposed event, meaning for my one-year anniversary on this site, this May 14th. I will try to get back to this as quick as I can, though I can't promise anything regular. Who do you think is on the mind of the junior tactician?
Please leave a review, and maybe check off some boxes by the review field! See ya next time!