He felt like someone was going to come in his room and question the note he had written, the books he had discreetly stolen, and the packed bags at the foot of his bed. It was well past dinner—no one in the castle should be awake. 'Should' being the keyword; Morgan feared what would happen if Robin—or, even worse, lil' Morgan—found him.

He wasn't doing anything bad—at least, not 'I'm going to murder tons of people randomly' bad. He was just copying down the entire contents of a single book…one that he wrote with Robin, and one that gave him a great deal of joy just thinking about. Morgan couldn't entirely describe it nor did he think he ever could, but as he copied down the last sentence, he remembered when him and Robin were writing it. In their near future was a battle, one that meant the end of a war and the safety of the world—two worlds, really.

In light of that…Morgan knew, somewhere deep down, that his mother was dead. The Ylissean army killed her—he, alongside Robin, Chrom, and Lucina, had killed her. She was Grima, and Grima was her, so it had to be done. He never questioned it, never once thought that maybe, just maybe, Gerome's philosophy of their true parents being dead would sink in and take hold. Robin and Chrom weren't Morgan's parents…little Lucina and Morgan weren't his kid siblings…and they never could be, in one way or another. They were parallel to his family, not apart of it.

But, in that case, why was he leaving the only group of family he knew in favor of a family member that wasn't even his and might not even exist? That, according to Robin, most likely died sometime during the two wars that swept over the continent? Honestly, Morgan wasn't sure why he decided this himself. Maybe it was to make Robin happy, or to give lil' Morgan something he never had. It could even be because he was getting restless; he heard that the other kids left and a part of him was eager to know why.

Morgan placed the bound book on his bed next to a note he had written a night prior. He would keep the copied book—which was just a bunch of papers until he had the time to properly arrange them—and the original would stay with Robin. He stood up, looked around his room for the last time, then he took his bag and left the castle, leaving most of his belongings behind.

…

Morgan was either west, south, or southwest from Ylisstol. He just knew that he was going in the general direction of Plegia, which was where he wanted to go. It was a few days since he left, but he heard rumors. Rumors that the tactician's apprentice went missing. He couldn't help but wonder…how did Robin take it? She was probably sad, angry, hurt—unbelievably hurt. He wondered if she thought he left of his own violation, or if someone forced him to write the letter. They were no doubt searching for him…and lil' Morgan was no doubt getting the short end of the stick here. It sounded horrible, but at least he isn't old enough to remember this.

Staying relatively hidden, glad that he could pretend to be some random young adult roaming the streets, he didn't come across any familiar faces until he was greeted by a chuckle one night. "Heya, Morgan! What'cha doing this far from Ylisstol? On a mission? Your mom here?"

It scared Morgan, to some extent, before he quickly recovered. The speaker was Henry, a crow perched on his shoulder. Morgan wasn't even surprised that it was in the middle of nowhere—he was just scared that Henry would tell Robin. "N-no, she's not here…" Maybe he could talk his way out of it.

"Say, are you the tactician's apprentice?" Henry asked.

Dammit. There goes that idea. "Yes and no," Morgan replied, trying to be nonchalant. "Why do you ask?"

"Just a rumor or two," Henry said. He gently petted the crow on his shoulder. "See, Cawson here told me 'caw, caw-caw-caw, caw,' which is short for 'c-caw, caw, caw-caw-caw-caw, c-c-caw, caw," which roughly translates to, let's see… Oh, right! 'The tactician's apprentice left home!' I went to Robin, she confirmed it, and I followed your tracks from there."

Morgan wasn't even going to try to hide it now, especially since Henry already knew who he was. Sighing, Morgan said, "Please don't tell her I'm here. I'm looking for someone, and I don't think she'd approve. Besides, it's probably long past time when I should've left the nest."

Henry put a hand over his heart. "I swear on all things you can think of that I won't tell Robin—fair game for little Morg, though. Can't say 'no' to a two-year-old!"

"Believe me, you can," Morgan said. He couldn't tell if he was trying to divert the topic or genuinely talk about something else that made him much more comfortable. "You'll feel like a heartless monster afterwards, but I've said 'no' to all three of them."

Henry nodded sagely, then dragged the conversation back to where it was before. "Anyhow, even though I'm not telling Robin, she still told me to tell you something if I found you. In her exact words"—he cleared his throat, most likely for theatrical purposes, and spoke very matter-of-factly—"'Morgan's free to come and go. The least I can do is let him leave if he wants to.'"

"…Thanks for the message," Morgan replied. Honestly, it didn't seem sincere. He was pretty sure she was keeping a straight face, pretending to be fine, while Chrom and Lissa spent the meals listening to her wondering what Morgan himself wasn't sure of: why. Why he left, why he didn't warn them, why he didn't ask for permission, why he stayed there for years after the war if he was going to leave like Lucina did. Such questions would probably never be answered.

Henry tilted his head to one side, seeming to sense Morgan's train of thought. "I'll be honest, you're being a bit tactless. Which is bad, 'coz you're a tactician!" It wasn't an entirely rude statement, jokingly said without much thought to it. "Just make sure it's what you reeeeeeally want to do, all right? Robin'll welcome you back with open arms if you don't wait too long. If she has to wait a while longer, she might just start the mourning process."

"I'll think about it." It was a distant, quiet, blatant lie. If Henry noticed, he didn't mention it—with one last chuckle and a wave, he more-or-less disappeared in a few seconds.

Starting a campfire, Morgan sat down and stared at the red glow. It was too late to change this. Theoretically, only the adults would remember—the most little Lucina would remember him for is babysitting. Even though he knew what it was like to forget someone, even though he still yearned for those memories back…he almost wanted to erase Robin's memories of him. It would be painless, and make it less painful, so she didn't have to be haunted by "what ifs" and "if onlys."

Since he couldn't easily alter anything, he had to make due with the choices he made. "Sorry, Robin," Morgan said quietly. "I don't think I can be your son anymore."