Not really sure what to say this time, beyond that this chapter went NOTHING like I had originally planned, but I like it better this way. Hope you all enjoy, read and review!
Her son always seemed to have problems of some kind or another, but it wasn't hard to remember when he suddenly got much worse.
Morgan walked a mere pace and a half behind his mother, hiding the frown that had taken over his features...for not even half a step behind the boy was the dark mage to have abandoned her twice already, having managed to worm his way into her good graces yet again. He trusted her, of course, but worried that even if she couldn't remember her past with the plegian is still affected her otherwise perfect judgement.
"Morgan." The white haired boy quickened his pace so he walked along side the teenager who called his name, unable to force the smile when he saw her; her eyes were sunk in, with dark bags under them, her skin was now an almost sickly pale while her pace had slowed from even the day before...the body held no life energy anymore, save for her own, leaving his precious parent quickly growing weaker as days passed by.
"Here Mother." Robin looked at her son, he knew that she had noticed his lack of smile but she seemed to have decided that mentioning it was unnecessary.
"Any update on the Ylissian royalty or the other children?" The lightning-preferred tactician loved giving her reports, the feeling of fulfillment it gave him was incomparable...yet he couldn't smile about his treasured 'job' due to her current state.
"The royals are more agreeable now. Noire knows she's wrong." He stated, getting a hum in response.
"...And Henry?" Black eyes had to keep from narrowing at his father's name.
"Two steps behind you." His frown twitched a little further down when the glowing eyed teenager smiled slightly, and he was grateful that her attention wasn't currently on him. "Mother...why not take some of my life energy?" She would become sick again from taking energy from random people, her body not yet used to the act (unlike the Mother back home), meaning her options were narrowed down to people she had already taken energy from before...his had never been taken from her, but half his blood was her own, which should keep her body stable enough.
"I don't need it Morgan." Even back home the pyrokenetic woman refused the boy's energy.
"But I-" He hated that he could give her more than enough energy, yet she wouldn't even let him try, making him sick to his stomach with disgust of himself and his apparent inability to help in the most important way for her.
"Besides, I'll be gaining quite a bit tonight." The orange haired teenager cut off her son, who finally managed to force a smile.
"I'll do your rounds then." He immediately offered, getting a nod of approval.
¬NF¬
Morgan sat against a tree on a hill overlooking the camp, enabling him to see even the other side, allowing him to take a precious rest after the long day of walking rather than constantly circling the camp. The world of the night assaulted his senses, but there was nothing abnormal about it; the crickets chirping and wind moving his hair, breaths crisp from the lack of sun and the darkness that blanketed everything were all common occurrences...there was no clanging of weapons or armour of an approaching enemy, no while feathers gleaming in the light of the moon as a pegasus tried to sneak up on them, no buzz of magic in the air or smell of blood.
"...Too peaceful." The boy complained softly, heaving a heavy sigh. As long as he was in the tent he could let his imagination run wild, letting memories of sleeping in a room within the castle with his mother as a child take over his mind...he would almost be able to hear the servants scuttering through the halls to get the last of their nightly work done, the rustle of feathers as Corpse gets more comfortable on his mother's headboard, her soft hums for the albino bird but he pretends it's for him.
But those memories and fantasy are impossible to call upon as he overlooks the camp, night chill biting at the tactician's bare fingers...his mind instead was taken over by far less pleasant memories until the world around him faded.
~He moved his left arm until Mother's pet could land on it, elbow resting on his left knee to keep from using precious energy as his right sprawled almost uselessly across the ground, knowing that keeping the bird warm was needed for it to be helpful. The white haired boy pulls up the hood of the worn cloak with his right hand, Ylisse was starting to get colder now (if he focused he was almost sure he'd see his breath) and once the cawing oddity landed on the arm he could pull it against his chest before enclose the cloak around them both. The scavenger's cry sounded above him, and he looks toward the sound to see it flying several feet up.
"Caw!"
"So? Keep warm or not?" The black eyed boy questioned, eyes narrowing when it merely continued to circle him...damn thing never liked listening to him, but they're the only company the other would allow now. More cawing, seeming to echo around him, and now he knew it was mocking him again.
"Caw! Caw!"
"Fine, freeze." The cloaked boy hissed, attention returning to the forest ahead of him...the brigands in Southtown had been no problem for him, of course, but now he had to treck back to the capital.~
"...N? M-an?" ~Head snaps to the side upon hearing a sound.
"Caw, caw!" Corpse's sounds, almost panicked, faded into the background until it had become silence.~
"Morgan!" The present snapped back into focus, the buzz of magic in the air...it took him a moment to realize it was his own magic, Elthunder half cast with his hand on the tome. A blink until he could make out Noire, eyes wide in what he could only assume was fear.
"N...Noire?" Her fear seemed to ebb away when he said her name, a single breath to calm the magic and get rid of the half-cast spell.
"Morgan?" The archer sounded far more worried than he'd have liked.
"I..." Morgan paused as he looked at himself, only to find his body in a familiar pose, one he only used when waiting for a certain winged nuisance to land on his arm. "I...sorry..." A quick swipe under his eyes proved his theory, he had begun crying when reliving the memory.
"A-are you...alright?" He appreciated the black haired girl's concern, but he didn't want to think of those memories any more than he already had...he could almost feel the fresh blood splattered against his face and hands...his fingers absently dug into the sleeves of the cloak he wore.
"I'm fine." The tactician knew he would be soon, at least, at that was close enough. "You should be sleeping." He pointed out when she sat beside him, his eyes quickly scanning the visible area to be sure nothing had gotten close while he was distracted.
"I heard y-you pass my t-tent...you d-don't usually do the r-rounds, so I...thought y-you might be lonely..." Black eyes blinked.
"How did you know it was me?"
"O-oh, um...the clothes." He blinked, but the purple eyed girl seemed to have noticed her mistake. "Not that I-I SAW you, rather, I, um...I h-heard it. Your...your clothes may, u-um, look the same...b-but the material is d-different. Um...h-higher quality, so it...s-sounds, um, different. The c-cloak is the same, though."
The cloak was the same. Of course it was the same. ~Blood was still dripping when the bird drags it through the window. Been days, should wonder why the blood isn't dry. No time. Have to get a container. Save the blood. Save Mother.~
"...N..." ~Had to sew the cloak. Couldn't wear it all torn. Doesn't try to clean the blood stains. Keeps Mother with him. Always with him. Never takes it off. Doesn't want to. Won't lose her again. Woman in armour demands he takes it off. Friend of the king. Kills her. Keeps the blood off Cloak. Only Mother's blood allowed. King gets mad. Dancer woman makes the king calm. Promises no one will take Cloak. Only if he doesn't kill friends. Agrees.
Corpse stays with him. A year passes. Sometimes feels almost alright. Sometimes. Can't make plans now. Not allowed. Not 'stable'. Kills brigands instead. Like Mother. Hard to think. Most of the time. Hates when easy. Brigands stupid. Barbarians. Kill them all. For Mother.~
"..." ~It's cold tonight, so pulls hood up. Needs to head back to the castle. Easier to think, doesn't like it. Dumb bird won't stop flying around. Knows it won't let itself freeze...will come down soon. Always does. Hears a sound, but it's too late. Head snaps to the side but not enough time to dodge. Corpse cries and flies at the man attacking. Works long enough to get back some. Man has an axe. Mind isn't clear, but remembers swords are better for fighting axes. Goes to pull sword free from belt. Man is annoyed with meddling Corpse. Corpse cries out again. Start flying away. Man cuts Corpse in half. Blood splashes on hands. On face. On Cloak. Can't think. Cuts man down. Screams. Cries. Two pieces. Sews Corpse. One piece. Not moving. Blood. Needs back. Claws at Cloak. Give back. Need Corpse. Need.~
"-Gan!" ~No work. Dead. Corpse dead. Screams. Won't stop. Throat hurts. Still screams. Buzzing. Magic. No air. Sparks shoot. Purple. Kill. No Corpse. No anyone. Kill all.~
"MORGAN! YOU WILL SNAP OUT OF THIS AND BREATHE NOW YOU INSOLENT FOOL!"
So, this chapter originally had Morgan explaining to Noire that his mother was taking life energy from his dad, because she had before in emergencies as a child, and men were better for taking life energy because they can create brand new life energy without any to their own (I'll let you all guess what exactly that means) along with the reveal of why he hates Henry so much. Instead it turned into showing that Morgan, in his own time, was very unstable and broken for a year. So, yeah...oh well, a muse will be a muse. Hope you all enjoyed, see you all soon!