Off-topic: I was almost frozen in fear while writing this :P. Seriously. All these rave reviews and awesome feedback, and I start to feel rather obligated to people. This chapter may have to be butchered, depending on the general analysis.
Its flow... may have suffered, let us say it this way. Once again, I'd really appreciate comments on this, and whether the flow actually sucked.
I know that I got some rather good moments in, too. Let us hope that you can enjoy it, too.
Eternal bonds: Wings of despair
Hatred without basis
It was regular afternoon in the camp. The sun warmed up those chilled by the wind, and people could be seen around, resting. Their journey had been halted, and no one knew why.
There were rumors going around, saying that their tactician was the reason for it, that he too had found a daughter from the distant, unreachable future.
And sometimes the most outrageous rumors were true.
There was certainly something same about the two persons that tested their mettle on the practice grounds, gathering more than a few onlookers. It could have been the eye-catching purple hair, or the coat with purple markings that both of them wore. It could have been their eyes and the way with which they beheld each other; how they sought weaknesses in each other's stances like their sparring was a grand game of tactics.
But one thing became quickly clear to everyone that stopped to watch the spectacle; these two were not the same when it came to their skills. One beat the other single-handed, leaving him to eat dust every time their swords exchanged blows.
It was the girl who triumphed every time.
Robin spat grass from his mouth.
"Father, are you… alright?" a voice said from above. It was the same voice that had asked that same question for at least eight times already. Morgan must have thought him weak.
Then again, Robin was feeling rather bruised at the moment, so maybe her worry was warranted.
"I am not", he answered in frustration, laying on his back and sensing the cold and clumpy ground beneath the grass. "Why do I keep losing?" the tactician continued, troubled by the fact that Morgan's answer had always been the same.
His daughter sighed deep, fondling her short – and now disordered – hair again.
"You need more practice", she answered flatly, and Robin gave an agonizing grunt. The tactician rolled on his stomach and rose up in staggering manner.
Robin found himself hoping that he had more stamina to spend. He feared that the rest of his duties would suffer because of his promise to spar with his daughter. That should teach you to give such off-handed promises, Robin thought. Next time though, make sure that you are at least a sufficient match for the girl, or stick to your chess pieces.
"Could you not ask grandfather to spar with you, and maybe give some pointers?" Morgan asked him. "He should be much better swordsman than me."
"Very possible, considering that you are actually a swordswoman", Robin muttered, holding his head. Morgan gave the tactician a soft leer, the kind that was not meant to hurt or offend.
"The geezer is busy enough without me butting into his business", Robin added quickly, avoiding her gaze. "Besides, our travels were halted for a reason; maybe Chrom wants to have his rest after all these subsequent revelations."
"But father, you cannot go to the battlefield in this condition", Morgan shouted adamantly. "You will really die!" She pursed her lips tight, and held her forearm in a highly insecure manner. All of it made Robin's being ache.
She really fears the possibility of loss, the tactician thought.
"Alright, alright", he said to Morgan comfortingly, "I will do as you ask of me, and seek Chrom's advice on my swordsmanship."
Morgan nodded, but it took the girl a while to come back from her fear-filled state. Once that happened, however, her demeanor suggested once again that nothing could ever go wrong.
Robin intended to make sure that Morgan stayed that way.
"I do not honestly think that I can find time for that, Robin", Chrom answered the tactician's request, facing away from him. Robin frowned at his words; at this rate there would be no cure for Morgan's situation.
"Needs of the Shepherds have grown rather pressing", Chrom continued, "and absorb most of my effort during these days. Although I truly wish that I could… Aha!"
Suddenly the crown prince of Ylisse spun around, pointed at Robin's chest and declared:
"You could always ask my daughter's help with your training, hmm?"
His face was the spitting image of pride that came with one's ideas. Robin, however, was not amused.
"I bet you are applauding yourself", the tactician stated angrily, because all of this had been far too easy for his friend to do.
Chrom smiled at his sarcastic comment.
Robin mulled over his thoughts, trying to find some kind of counter-argument to present Chrom with.
He found out that there was actually nothing he could say against Chrom's irritating suggestion.
It was indeed far too convenient.
The golden sword crashed against the training dummy with voluminous force, doing something truly horrible to it; splinters flew by the force of the blow, as the sword grinded against the wood till it finally stopped again.
Lucina's Falchion had gone through the practice dummy in one strike, effectively sawing it in two and leaving others to gaze in horror at the deed done. Such destruction was one of the bad habits that came from her father's side; it quickly manifested itself in times of extreme stress or emotional duress. Suffice to say that the future had not had many practice dummies left when Lucina had finally departed to the past.
That man, she thought. That man!
The sword swung again, lacking as much hesitation as the executioner's axe.
He cannot be… He will not be!
Falchion met the bottom of the already destroyed training dummy, and the resulting crash boomed across the training yard.
I will never accept that man as my husband!
What happened next could only be explained as a trick of the mind, or perhaps an illusion; the bottom of the already destroyed dummy flew unbelievably far to the left, till it finally hit ground, jumping and bumping around till its rare exercise in movement came to its definite end.
Lucina exhaled angrily. She was tired, sweaty and also had serious trouble forgetting the man that seemed to invade her mind at the most inopportune moments; the purple haired tactician that had appeared from nowhere to her father's life and held what was possibly the most important position there.
Lucina found herself desperately hoping that the word possibly would quickly find some new meanings in her mother tongue.
She had to wonder, though; if the tactician was to become such a threat, then what would happen to poor Morgan? Would she be doomed to live, remembering that her father had done such a monstrous deed; killing his closest friend, who was also Lucina's father?
Lucina shuddered. Morgan should never be exposed to such a thing, she thought.
The young girl held a strange place in the crown princess's heart. Lucina had not yet fully accepted the girl as her daughter, but she still wanted to protect her from threats that could possibly destroy her. Lucina was – to her knowledge – trying to act like a true mother would, even without knowing much about such things.
"You two are notoriously bad with equipment, but I never ima-", the familiar and utterly despicable voice said from behind her. Lucina swung Falchion backwards in reflex, intending to stop it on the man's throat. Her sword, however, stopped against something metallic, causing a resounding clang.
As Lucina turned around, she found the tactician flatly staring at her. She felt a compulsive need to apologize rising, but squashed it under the iron boots of will. She would never apologize to this man.
Lucina stared at the tactician, trying to force him to act first and show some kind of weakness. She was successful, as the man began to gesture towards his sword that had blocked Lucina's strike.
"Oh, this?" he asked in an almost exaggerated manner, "Pay no heed to it. It is only there to make sure that you would not kill me! Seriously, you must have some issues if you are that ready to strike at your own ally!"
Lucina frowned. This was hardly the reaction that she had suspected from the man.
"Do not sneak up on me", she said. "I am accustomed to fighting against Risen ambushes. Approach me from the front if you are on honest business."
"I will do so the next time, but only to see how fast you can rip me to shreds", the tactician answered sharply, and Lucina quickly found herself rather disturbed by the man's snarky act. She also found it strange that her father's murderer would gather attention on himself by speaking like he did. Probable murderer, Lucina corrected herself. Better be safe than sorry.
"State your business", she said in a mildly commanding tone. It was the kind that expected obedience without any trickery, and had its basis on trust between the conversing persons. As such, it was hardly appropriate for them, but Lucina did not want to further offend her father's tactician.
It took a while for the man to finally answer, for he had sunk into thought. I would give my left eye to know what he is thinking now, Lucina thought grimly. No, perhaps my left arm would be better sacrifice. I might need both of the eyes later.
The tactician lifted his eyes to meet Lucina's, without any kind of trickery or gaze-averting.
"I suppose you know that I started sparring with Morgan?" he asked.
"I do. And?" she asked, hiding the fact that she had not actually known about it at all.
"She bested me nine times out of ten, with one match ending in draw", the tactician said. Lucina gave a short laugh.
"You must be horrible with your sword", she concluded, but the man shook his head.
"How do you propose that I survived all the battles with your father, then?" he asked, frowning. "Your argument is invalid, and all credit from my loss goes to Morgan; she is a terror with her sword."
"I still do not understand why you tell me all this", Lucina said to the tactician, turning sideways.
"To put it simply", the man said slowly, "I would ask you to spar with me, regularly, so that I can defeat Morgan in our sparring matches."
"You want to appease your wounded pride?" Lucina asked, unable to believe what she had just heard. "You are despicable!"
"No, I…" the man stammered.
And then, for once, he was lost for words.
Off-topic: Yeah, this will end in the next chapter. I do find it amusing how almost all chapters are cut in almost exact word count.
I hope you enjoyed it, I'll be hearing for you.