Chapter 2
(Sips non-existent coffee.)
Morgan stared at the ground, sitting on a crate.
"Don't blame yourself, Morgan."
He looked up. "Mother..."
"That was a tough situation," the tactician told him.
Morgan averted his eyes. "I... I let her get hurt."
Robin folded her arms. "Don't be ridiculous."
"I'm not!" he protested, looking back at her. "I... I had the tool I needed to fight, and I just let her..."
"Tell me. How badly hurt were you before Nah was injured?"
"Uh... I took a slash to my arm to I couldn't use my tome, and... some claws sunk into me."
"I see..." Robin sighed. "Morgan... why do you blame yourself?"
He stared. "What kind of question is that? It's my fault!" he spoke, standing. "I should've... I should've..."
She looked at him with patient eyes. "Yes?"
"I... I just... I could've prevented it and didn't." He looked down. "I should've... done more... not let her go... or anything."
Robin sighed. "And what would've happened then?"
"Huh?"
"Come on, Morgan. You're bright. I know that you could tell me what would've happened if you held her back."
"The... the Risen... they would've got both of us."
Robin gave a nod. "Yes. You knew instinctively, as a tactician, that letting Nah face off against the Risen alone would've given both of you the best possible chance of survival compared to anything else."
"And she almost died," he muttered.
"Key word is 'almost', is it not?" Robin patted her son on the head. "Everything's fine now. The two of you are safe, and Lissa's tending to her."
"Yeah, but..."
"Don't feel guilty, Morgan." His mother gave him a small smile. "Sometimes injuries are downright impossible to avoid in war."
Morgan hung his head. "I bet it is."
She sighed again. "How about a brief story... want to hear it?"
"Sure," he mumbled, following the older person.
The two of them were walking down a path into a bright forest when Robin spoke up.
"It was a fight with Risen."
Morgan blinked and snapped to attention.
"It was the first fight of a new Shepherd, the village boy Donnel, after joining us.
"There was a sudden, startling attack by the Risen. We don't know where they came from or how.
"They went instantly for Chrom, so I went and paired up with him."
A shuddering breath. "In my damn haste, I forgot to have anyone cover him.
"I panicked and thought Sumia would be dead from the archer rushing at her, so I had Frederick with her.
"That worked, and he blocked the arrow before sticking his lance inside the Risen.
"Chrom and I were doing well, taking out the enemy with ease, and I heard this horrible scream."
"Was it Donnel?" Morgan's voice cracked.
Robin nodded. "It was dark, and somehow I didn't notice three of them slip past.
"I turned and dropped my sword as I flipped open my tome, but it was too late.
"He was dead before I could throw out a single spell."
Morgan blinked. "R... really?"
"Yes." Robin hid her face with her hood. "I... it was one of the three casualties the Shepherds have received to this day."
He swallowed. "I..."
"It's just... that day, and during all the others when they died, I... learned a hard lesson." She stopped.
"Sometimes death is inevitable. But as tacticians, we can only truly accept the deaths of those who died when we've given the plan everything in our power to at least try to make sure everyone gets out alive.
"And if then it's still not enough... don't let it haunt you to the point of making someone else die."
Morgan sighed. "Mother... you're more experienced then I could ever hope to be."
"Not true, Morgan." She removed the hood and looked at him. "You just need to be in a few more battles and your tactical thinking will be very close to my own.
"Now... it's getting late. It's time to head back to camp."
"Okay." Morgan trailed after the older tactician.
Nah...
...
"Nah?" He spoke in a soft, quiet voice, echoing through the dark tent.
There was the near silence of a mumble.
She's asleep. Morgan breathed out. Good...
Even if she doesn't blame me... I don't know if I can face her right now.
He turned and took quiet steps away from the entrance, letting a silent sigh fall from his lips.
"Mor... gan..."
He stopped, and turned his face back to the darkness.
"Morgan... are you there?" rasped her voice.
"Yeah, it is." He looked in again.
She was covered by a blanket, and looked at him through the darkness.
"Are you coming in?"
"Um... may I?"
"Of course." A tired smile came from her, seen by the fleeting light upon the camp.
He took a step within her tent.
"Looks like you're... uh... doing fine," he spoke.
She gave him a slight smile, without showing teeth. "Really."
"Yeah..." Morgan scratched his hair. "Nah..." He swallowed, and looked away.
He felt his face warm and found himself unable to look at her as shame filled him.
"I'm..."
"It's not your fault, Morgan." Nah sighed. "I heard that you've been moping around, and I think I can guess why."
He couldn't bring himself to meet her eyes.
"You couldn't have known what that sword would do to a dragon."
"Wyrmslayers... designed specially to tear through the scales of a dragon," he found himself growl.
"You... still blame yourself."
Morgan closed his eyes. "If only..." he mumbled.
"If only what?" Nah coughed.
He let himself stare off into a dark corner. "If only I knew what it was... if only I wasn't hurt... then you wouldn't be like this, Nah."
A longer sigh came from the young girl before him now. "Look at me, Morgan."
He managed to do so, and found his eyes drawn to her own, the way they seem to fade from different shades of green captivating him.
"I knew what it was." Nah looked at him. "The Wyrmslayer, I mean."
He stared at her. "And you still..."
"I did it so you wouldn't get hurt."
"Nah..." He swallowed. "I... next time... I promise you won't get hurt."
He dared to look at her, to see a faint smile emerge on her face.
"I look forward to that day."
He found himself smiling, too.