A/N:

Hello my lovely readers! Let's call this Part II of the "Spy" chapters. Hmm... I hope you can guess what will happen before delving into this. After getting enough advice, and reviews on my other stories, I decided to try something a little different. I honestly hope it shows, though I did keep the basis of my "style". Innovators are barely recognized in their time, and that's what I view this fanfic as. I'm blazing the trail for others! Ahem... As always R&R. Enjoy! Word Count (1,596)


Chapter 8:

The tactician-prince had settled down in the library that night. It was great to be back home, with his friends once more, but there was something that he just couldn't seem to get off his mind. Well, Morgan would always read when he was upset. His aunt would often tell him about how alike he and his mother were.

He had quite the name to live up to. Prince Morgan, brother of Princess Lucina, son of Exalt Chrom and Grandmaster Tactician of Ylisse, Robin. No pressure on him at all… His parents only defeated Plegia's Mad King Gangrel, and toppled the Valmese Empire, saving the world from its expansion. The Fell Dragon though… if the task was too great for them, what chance did he have? His parents probably could have defeated Grima, were they not caught so off guard, as Aunt Lissa often put it. He was the only one of the Exalted Bloodline left who could possibly perform the Awakening ritual. How could he, of all people, be the last hope left for humanity?

Morgan closed the book he had been reading. It was an old text, detailing the journeys of Mark, a tactician Morgan had always been quite fascinated by. It brought back old memories of the times that he and his mother would share, studying. He missed his family. Sure, he would always put on a smile around his friends, but a storm raged inside. He wished there was some way he could see them again. His mother and father never came back from campaign. They promised… He only learned about the tragedy from other Shepherds before they ended up falling to Grima's forces as well. Then, his sister just vanished. Everyone spent days looking for her, after those Risen attacked the palace, when he was younger. She was never found though, and presumed dead. His aunt and cousin were still around for him, but it just wasn't enough. He needed his family. It was just too much.

Morgan moved the text aside, clearing the way for new material on his desk. The next piece was much closer to his heart, in more ways than one. Morgan reached into one of his coat's inner pockets and pulled out a new text, a book, bound in leather, faded, and pages worn. Clearly, whoever owned this piece favored it very much. Morgan set down the book, opening it, to reveal that it was a text on strategy. The previous owner had scrawled many notes in the margins, and many fold marks were quite visible on the corners of the pages. This was the last thing Morgan's mother had given him before she left with his father to Plegia. All these scribbles in the margins belonged to her.

It was… one of the few things he had left of her. Morgan wished he could say the same about his father. All he had left of his father was the legendary blade, passed down in their bloodline, and a crumbling Ylisse. He had nothing left of his sister though. Her room stood, untouched. He wondered how long the palace would stand. Morgan often worried that he would lose the image of her face, in his mind. The same could be said for his parents. He couldn't lose them again.

Morgan looked down at the pages of his mother's strategy book once more. He let himself get lost in the pages as he always would. In reading, Morgan could find an escape.


The prince's eyes slowly drifted open. He had… fallen asleep? Morgan groggily picked his head up from his pillow of a table. He looked back down at the table, noticing a small puddle where his head once rested. He proceeded to wipe that away with his sleeve. He rubbed away the trail of drool, which trailed its way from the corner of his mouth, across his cheek.

The candle which stood at the end of his desk was sputtering as it reached its last minutes. At least he kept his readings in a somewhat decent order. Well, except for the text he had fallen asleep on. He closed the item, setting it upon the stack he seemed to have created that night.

Morgan let out a mighty yawn, rubbing his eyes, trying to get rid of the tired. He stretched out, in an attempt to wake his nerves. It did some good. He might as well get up. He could always fix things up later. No one came to the library any more. There were… much more important matters at the moment. The prince shifted out of his seat and stretched once more, with another great yawn. He set his hand on the back of his chair to push it back into place under the desk. He hesitated though. He couldn't place it, but there was something about the air that just seemed off. He… wasn't alone.

Morgan's eyes darted all over the area to find whatever had joined him. Damn this light! He could barely see a thing. Why did he have to fall asleep here? All he was able to see were the shelves, full of musty old books, which surrounded him. He did, eventually, pick something out from the rest. It seemed to be the silhouette of some cloaked figure in armor, just barely taller than himself. Morgan squinted at the figure, trying to make sure this wasn't some trick of the light. "Hello?" He just barely whispered out, nervous due to the figure in front of him.

The character stepped closer to Morgan, finally allowing the prince to figure out who this could be. "Why, hello, Prince." The figure said with a bow meant only to tease him.

Morgan's eyes scanned over the figure in front of him. Now that he wasn't in combat, he could take his time to analyze this person. It was definitely the Grimleal he had fought when he was escorting that last group of refugees here to Ylisstol. He noticed that when this figure spoke, the voice was particularly feminine. It seemed like this person was trying to deepen "his" voice, but it was still too recognizable. He also took note of the fact that this figure had lost the sword that he used when fighting Morgan. Morgan would have figured the Grimleal would know better than to lose something like that. He bit his lip, still unnerved by the figure in his presence. "Um… who are you?" The cobalt haired prince, finally asked.

The figure let out a smirk after hearing this comment. Obviously something about Morgan's inquiry amused him. "I go by many names, dear prince," The Grimleal said. "For now, you may call me Lucian."

"Lucian…" Something about this seemed odd to Morgan, though he couldn't place why. "What are you doing here in Ylisstol, Lucian?"

The dark lord let out a small chuckle. "What am I doing here, indeed? I am Grimleal, of course." The dark lord said with a gesture to himself. "Isn't my purpose here obvious enough?"

Morgan kept his thumb pressed up against his chin, as he would often do, in thought. He wished he could see the dark lord's face. Even though it was obscured, Morgan still could pick up that something wasn't quite right about this. "No, it isn't." He said. "Something tells me, you have another reason for being here." He saw the smug grin on the dark lord's face disappear. He was onto something. "Tell me, why do you serve Grima?"

"Naga abandoned me." The dark lord stated, without hesitation. Morgan didn't know what to say to this. Why would Naga possibly abandon someone? It… didn't make sense. "Yes, I know it's hard for you to wrap your mind around, Prince, but your so-called "divine dragon" left me. Naga never came to me when I needed her most, but Grima did. The god that you call the "fell dragon", has a vision for this world. I was one of those hand-picked by Grima. There will be a new world-"

"I can't believe it." Morgan barely whispered out. The smug look on the dark lord's face returned once more, but as he opened his mouth to speak once more, Morgan interrupted again. "You… Do you really believe anything that dragon has told you? Don't you see that you're as disposable to the Fell Dragon as Risen? He doesn't care!"

Morgan could see this Lucian's fists and jaw clench. "You're wrong." He said through grating teeth.

"How am I wrong?" Morgan asked. His eyes bore right into the dark lord, hoping he could get more of a reaction out of this Grimleal.

"I-" As the dark lord was about to speak once more, archaic sigils appeared around him. He disappeared in a bright flash of blue, Morgan reeling back from this shock to his senses.

Morgan didn't know what to say. It appeared as if the dark lord was going to answer. Now, he was gone. Someone else had to be involved here.

Morgan scratched his head, wondering who the caster of this warp was. He just couldn't wrap his brain around this one. He was too tired. He looked back to his desk once more, pushing in the chair he had meant to, earlier. He picked the nearly dead candle up, hoping he wouldn't drip any hot wax on himself. Maybe he'd be able to figure this out after he had gotten some proper rest. The prince proceeded up to his room, the events of this night's encounter, still very fresh in his mind.


A/N:

What do I say about this? Well, is this different? I want to know these things. I can only improve. Also I kept this the whole day to keep polishing. I really hope I buffed out all the grammatical mistakes. Call me a grammar perfectionist...

So, yes... Morgan and Lucina! In the same chapter, and not fighting! WHAT?! Yes, well, things are getting a little more interesting...

I hope you enjoyed! Please be sure to leave a REVIEW! This is Squish, bidding you a good day! :D