Passage
Morgan is at a loss of what to do after Khan Basilio's death. It seems that parents don't always have an answer.
A/N: Written in reaction to deal with some real life mourning. Unedited, rough, and a little raw. Title comes from Vienna Teng's Passage.
Morgan could not sleep. Earlier he woke up to the muffled sounds of Inigo crying. Given how he had been brushed away earlier with a cheery false smile when he tried to comfort him, Morgan could only lie still and wait until Inigo had fallen back asleep. Then Morgan sat up, pulled his coat, and left the tent they shared.
The West Khan was dead. None of them had been there for it and the Shepherds themselves had not fought the battle that led to Basilio's death, but it had occupied the front of all of their minds regardless. Inigo's mother had been close to the West Khan, and even though Noire in a quavery voice had told Morgan that Khan Basilio had died long before any of the children had met him (as ordained by the foreseer, that the future favored this road above all), seeing Olivia's grief was all it took for Inigo to mourn a man he barely knew.
Morgan had not known Basilio well either, aside from the couple times Papa had brought him to the exuberant West Khan to "check if the rumors Lon'qu had actually gotten with the army tactician of all people were true". In the few minutes of the Khan's presence, Morgan had seen why Papa respected him so despite their intensely opposing personalities. Khan Basilio was as formidable as he was vigorous and he had his own brand of roughness that only accentuated his impressive style.
In other words, he was intensely cool.
Morgan had told him so and received a hearty pound on the back along with a challenge for him to be the next Feroxi champion. And then Morgan never saw him again, as only a week later, as they fled south from Walhart's armies and into the arms of Yen'fay's, Basilio and Flavia went up north to ease up the chokehold.
When Flavia came back, armor scuffed up and a gleaming gemstone clutched in her hand, Morgan had seen Mother's face turn hard even as she kept her posture stiff and chin high. Papa, on the other hand, turned on his heel and left in the middle of the meeting, ignoring the pairs of eyes that watched his retreating back. When Morgan stood up to follow after him, Mother had rested her hand on his shoulder and shook her head.
The resulting fallout was odd. No one talked about it. Or if they did, it was in hushed tones that trailed into nothingness. Lucina was working twice as hard nowadays and more than once, Morgan had heard the whispering of doubts, what if Walhart really was more than they could handle, and would he be the one to bring back the fell dragon Grima that led to the death of all their parents? Nothing Morgan could do would change the melancholy and grim expressions of his friends. Each hug he gave was met with gratitude but a kind of pity, as if they believed he did not understand his arms could not shield them from the future crashing down upon them.
Morgan's feet took him past the night watch and he greeted them with a cheery smile. "Can't sleep too?" Cherche asked as Minerva rumbled behind her, those wyvern cat eyes bright in the shadows. Morgan eyed Minerva with interest- Mother had sent him to study battle strategies for flying units and run test maneuvers in various environmental conditions earlier, but a wyvern illustration in a book and a ten, fifteen foot scaly flying lizard with teeth and claws were two very different experiences. Minerva, as if put off by Morgan's intense focus, snorted in Morgan's face and blew his hair into his eyes. Cherche laughed softly.
Shaking his hair back into place, he asked, "Too? Are there others up?"
"Yes, Lady Say'ri and Lady Tiki just went to that spring over there for a drink. Minerva says she can't smell any of those foul Risen or enemy soldiers around, so it should be safe to take a stroll, if you remain within the line of the trees there." Cherche said.
"I see. And the moonlight means that as long as I stay there, you'll be able to see if I run into trouble, ingenious! Maybe I'll take a stroll too. That's what people do when they want to clear their heads, right?" Morgan said as he squinted to where Cherche was pointing. Gerome's mother laughed softly.
"Minerva and I can cross that distance in an instant, but I would suggest you bring a weapon regardless. I would not want to face your father if I let you go unarmed past the camp perimeter."
Morgan fumbled in his pockets and found a few spare Dying Blaze tome pages from the time he had tried to teach Brady how to improve his proficiency in magic. It had been an interesting afternoon, considering they had greatly underestimated how much the one time use tomes amplified their power. Who knew that Laurent's conical hats and Severa's pigtails were so flammable?
Minerva growled and apparently that was good enough for Cherche. Once Morgan left Cherche's company however, he found himself wishing he had stayed and chatted instead. The thin part of the woods mean the sky seemed enormous over his head and he would have lost all sense of where he was if it were not for him turning back to see the torches by the campsite. It was a lonely feeling to be wandering around with his bare feet on the cold damp earth. Morgan almost doubled back to find Mother and Papa, but quickly dropped that idea that after yesterday's events.
The first sign something had been wrong was how dark the tent was. Mother's desk candle was nearly always lit, no matter how late Morgan went to find her, and Papa who hated when she worked herself until her nose was a centimeter from the page, scattered so many candles around it was a fire hazard. This time, Morgan could hardly see Papa's bowed back in the shadow as he sat on the edge of the bed. And then the sound of crying hit Morgan's ears and he felt his heart sink into his stomach. Papa had let out a quiet sob, muffled in his own throat, and his broad back that Morgan had looked to many times for reassurance had shrunk.
Morgan had froze in the tent flap, half wanting to throw his arms around his father and half wanting to flee. Then Papa had turned around and Morgan would never forget those red rimmed, watery eyes, the quivering attempt for his mouth to flatten, and that lost expression. Lon'qu had never looked so young and small.
"…Morgan?"
It had been terrifying. But he could not stay standing in the doorway forever, not while Papa clearly needed someone and Morgan could not leave him alone to find Mother. Morgan had straightened his back, tried to give his best reassuring smile, and went to give his father an awkward hug. "I'm here, Papa. I'm here." he had said as his father's strong arms had been almost painfully weak as they held onto him.
No, he did not want to think too deeply about how useless he had felt as Papa cried into his thin shoulders or how his own eyes had watered up from nothing aside from the sight of his father's face. Nor did he want to think about what Mother had told him later, to support his father the best he could with a mournful expression. When Morgan had asked her what was wrong, she looked as if she was on the verge of spilling something - and Morgan had no idea what he would do if Mother began to cry- but she instead gave him a guarded look and her reassurances seemed a little rushed in comparison to her normal attentive patience.
Morgan walked a little faster and soon found him by the spring that Cherche had mentioned. He could see Say'ri and Tiki sitting down on the bank, staring out to the water in what felt like a private moment, and he turned to leave when,
"Hail! Is that you, son of Haura?" Say'ri beckoned him over and Tiki smiled serenely down at him from her perch on a stump.
"Hello, Lady Say'ri, Lady Tiki." He said when he approached and bowed to both of them.
"Are you unable to sleep as well?" Tiki asked and Morgan nodded. The Voice of Naga sighed and looked up to the moon. "Everyone has been so restless as of late. Especially you children from the future of despair. I only wish there will be a moment of respite for all of us soon."
"We must fight though. There will be time to rest… and mourn after Walhart's empire is toppled." Say'ri said in a weary but determined voice. "And then reconstruction can begin…"
"When will you finally have time to take a nap with me if you plan to book away the next twenty years of your life?" Tiki teased. Say'ri smiled at her and they fell silent for a while, watching the spring burble and glimmer in the moonlight.
"Can I ask both of you a question?" Morgan broke the silence and they looked at him.
"Speak your mind. You may find you will sleep better for it." Say'ri encouraged and Morgan was struck by how her advice sounded like his father's. It must be a swordmaster thing. Or a Chon'sin thing. Or maybe-
Morgan cleared his throat. "Why don't adults like to cry?"
Perhaps he had said it too insistently because Tiki cocked her head in surprise and Say'ri looked as if he just knocked her sword out of her hand. Then, because Morgan was absolutely, completely serious, they began to think about it.
Tiki began first, in her soft, dreamy voice that made Morgan believe her without even needing to hear the words, "I suppose… because when we cry, we have to acknowledge how much something has hurt us. Sometimes we have to pretend something doesn't hurt us so we can keep moving on. When you cry, it only begets more sadness. Sometimes it's easier to pretend it doesn't affect you anymore, that you've gotten used to the sadness."
"But you don't? You don't get used to it?" Morgan asked, slightly scared to hear the answer. Tiki paused, so Say'ri spoke up.
"No, alas you do not. I still think of Yen'fay and my heart still aches. He is- was the only family I had left in the world. It is a wound that injures me again and again each time I remember." Say'ri said, looking out to the water and her voice laced heavy with melancholy, "But I cannot waste too much of my time crying when we are still in a war. How can I be strong enough to survive and not waste the life my brother sacrificed himself for if I spend all my time bemoaning my own circumstance? I won't allow myself to weep."
Both answers left Morgan with a sense of disatisfaction and it must of showed on his face because Tiki gave him a sad smile. "The true answer is that we each must deal with our own sorrows with whatever works best for each us. And the most I can do for Say'ri is stay by her side and let her know I love her."
"F-fie, do not tease me like so! It is not befitting-"
Morgan laughed when Tiki blew a raspberry at Say'ri who looked more unbalanced than he had ever seen her. Then, Tiki glided down from her perch and gave Morgan a soft hug that smelled of mint and lavender. Morgan snuggled back against her. Tiki's arms were bare despite the chilly air and unlike Minerva's hard scales, she was warm, leathery skin.
"Better? It can be hard to be a child but play the role of an adult. Haura tells me she regrets putting you through this but I know you would regardless of what she said. The other children look to you for hope, you know." Tiki murmured and Morgan knew now how potent the Voice of the Divine Dragon was as he felt himself relax at her calming words.
When Tiki let him go, Say'ri surprised Morgan by drawing him into a quick hug, despite being far more stiff than Tiki. "It will turn out fine." she said and Morgan had a feeling she said it not just for him, but for herself as well.
"Definitely." Morgan said with some of his old cheer back in his voice. Then, because he wanted to move on from the subject and erase the sadness on Say'ri's face. "So, did I ever tell you about the idea I had about manakete knights…?"