(16) Sharp Shooter

The red Legion body was racing towards the harbor. What made it take off was not Morgana's concern. It was a smaller creature with bat-like qualities but didn't seem to have the ability to fly. It rounded a corner and then started dashing towards Morgana and the Prince.

"That's it," Morgana spoke to herself and she walked out to the square for a better angle. "Just keep running in a straight line making my job-"

BANG

"Easy," she finished lowering her gun.

Morgana walked forward unable to see any details of the small bat creature. She knelt down to it seeing a deeper darker red hole through its body where she hit it.

"There it's done," he said coming up behind her. "Now will you please stand out of the rain."

"Yes, Your Highness," Morgana answered, following him to a side door of the Cathedral with a small alcove around the door.

"And can you please stop calling me that," he asked as they reached the alcove. "You have no idea how irritating it is trying to have a conversation with someone that just calls you by your title."

Actually, I can.

Morgana thought for a moment as a shiver ran through her body. Calling the Prince by his first name was still far too personal for Morgana but she understood the title irritation he was having. She glanced up at him then still unable to see emotion in his face through the red dye in her eyes.

"It truly is eerie seeing you with demon red eyes," he spoke with a smile.

She smiled with him before leaning over to wring her hair out, "Farron says they'll probably be red tomorrow too."

I hate being wet.

Morgana suddenly drew more uncomfortable realizing her leather gear was drenched and clutching to every curve her body had. Her skin was more than likely pruned underneath and going to bed tired and cold wasn't a good combination. Morgana would have to visit the bath house.

She sighed before turning back to the Prince, "Alright, I'll meet you halfway."

The Prince turned to square his shoulders with her giving her his full attention.

"Wrynn it is," she finished hoping for no arguments.

He chuckled, "And what happens if you are addressing my father?"

Morgana's eyes went wide for a moment, "I doubt I'll ever be talking to him."

Morgana looked out to the pouring rain collecting her thoughts in the moment of silence between her and Wrynn. Even if she did climb the rankings of Stormwind's military system, she'd never be close enough to the King to be talking to him. Maybe listening in on their war meetings but more than likely never speaking in them. Which she would be fine with. Even being in the same room as the people deemed most important in times of war was enough.

"Why are you not allowed inside the Cathedral?" Wrynn asked.

"My mother's usually in there," Morgana answered. "Farron thinks she's a distraction from my duties as a sniper so he doesn't like it when I'm around her long."

"Your father keeps you from your mother?" Wrynn summarized.

Morgana sighed, "I know it sounds bad, but it's for the better so I can focus on the tasks I'm given."

"What's her name?"

Morgana smiled, "Nadine Mongomery, with hair richer than Stormwind chocolate and eyes like the sea after a storm."

Wrynn's smile grew with hers, "She's a beauty queen?"

Every Stormwind beauty queen had an opening line to describe themselves; usually hair and eye color. Morgana was surprised he recognized her introduction. But then remembered he was tied to Amalia.

"She was," Morgana answered. "The most decorated beauty queen in Alliance history."

Another short moment of silence as Morgana continued collecting her thoughts.

"Your father talks about you getting a sharp shooter title," Wrynn began. "Are you close to achieving it?"

Morgana attempted to hold back a smile as she glanced up and over at him. With her eyes still red she couldn't make out his eyes or the demeanor of them. It made things difficult on which tone to take next without subtle but important body queues.

"As a man striving for peace," Morgana started looking back out into the rain feeling slightly uncomfortable attempting to meet his gaze. "You shouldn't want that of me."

"Care to go into detail?"

Morgana sighed, "The sharp shooter title requires a ninety percent scoped critical rating; critical meaning my target is either dead or drying."

She attempted one more time to make eye contact as she spoke but still found it unnerving she couldn't see the emotion in his eyes. Morgana quickly brought herself back to the rain.

Quit looking at him, it makes him uncomfortable like everyone else.

"Do you think you could achieve that one day?" he asked.

The question stung. It was a conversation her father had with her on occasion and for him, it all came down to the same issues.

"Farron thinks I have too much sympathy for it," Morgana admitted, her voice shaking slightly.

Was it the cold that had finally gotten to her, or was it her emotions she tried so hard to keep in check? Seeking her father's approval was normal for her but why was she emotional about it? Why now?

"Do you want it?"

"I have to want it."

"Why?"

Morgana sighed.

"I don't mean to pry-"

"No, it's fine," she interrupted, shifting in the alcove. "It's just… I realize how backwards it sounds."

The Prince waited for her to put it into words.

"I have to want it because it's the only future I have," Morgana spoke. "In Stormwind's Guard."

He waited.

"In order to be admitted into the Guard you first have to be good enough, they won't just take anyone that wants it unless they are desperate," Morgana began. "After that, someone, normally someone already in it, has to recommend you, and that's where Farron comes in."

"You have to prove to your father and mentor that you're good enough," Wrynn summarized.

Morgana nodded.

"Are you close?"

"Eh," Morgana groaned, tilting her head from side to side thinking. "I'm probably in the upper sixty percentile, maybe seventy."

"And you believe it's your only future?"

Again, Morgana fought that natural instinct to look over at him, "Yes."

"Is that your view, or your fathers?" he asked with a more stern tone.

"Stormwind's," Morgana answered. "They're a proud people, and to earn their respect I must be a perfect tool to them."

"Who says this?" Wrynn asked, his voice raised.

Morgana finally turned to the Prince and met his gaze.

"Years ago the people of Stormwind were concerned with race, whether you were a pureblood or not," she said, making sure to look him dead in the eye this round.

Morgana wanted him to be uncomfortable this round.

"Yes," he agreed, nodding. "And that time has passed."

"They've moved onto something else to focus on," she replied. "Now they care about your lineage and if it's intact or not."

She turned back to the rain enjoying its calming sound and signature smell for a moment.

"As a bastard child… I shouldn't even be in the same room as you," Morgana continued. "Needless talking to you… and on a regular basis it would seem now."

"The reputation you need to get into the Guard lies with them," Wrynn noted.

"Speaking of which," Morgana added, taking the opportunity. "After tonight I need you to leave me alone."

"What's happened?" he asked, moving closer.

"I think Amalia saw something in the forest the other day when we were on the same horse," Morgana said. "Because now… according to some of the people of Stormwind…"

"I've been the front line for gossip since I was born," he sighed.

"Well, now you have a mistress," Morgana finished. "And the ones that care seem to be pretty upset that their golden boy has been seduced by literal scum."

Morgana was quiet as she filtered through how to restore the people's faith in her.

"I think I can end that rumor rather easily," Wrynn stated.