v.
"Sister!" Morgan jogged through the castle hallways. "Sister!"
He ran to the library entrance, but at the same time Lucina stepped out. Morgan tried to stop, but he tripped over his boots in true Sumia fashion and fell in a heap at the princess's feet.
"Morgan?!" She knelt beside him but kept glancing between him and the corridor. "Is something wrong?! Is someone attacking the castle?!"
"Oh - nope!" Morgan sat straight up and rubbed at a sore spot on his head. "Sorry for worrying you."
Lucina relaxed, but a frown remained on her face. "You have to stop yelling like that when there's nothing going on."
"I said I was sorry!"
She finally broke into a small smile. She stood, then held her hand out to him. "So, what's so exciting?"
Morgan accepted her help and rose to his feet. "You'll never guess what I found in the courtyard," he jabbered, digging through his pockets before pulling out a blue mask, broken in two by a clean cut nearly exactly down the middle. "You wore this when we went through the timestream, right?"
"I did." Lucina took one piece and turned it over in her hand. "An assassin broke it on the night of Aunt Emmeryn's..." She trailed off and then smiled a little, and Morgan thought it looked a little forced. "I completely forgot about it."
"But it's so cool-looking!" Morgan took back the piece Lucina held and lined the mask up along the cut. "I'd wear this all the time and make fun of Gerome! Oh my gods, why didn't I think of that before?!"
Lucina laughed, her smile turning genuine. "You'd best be careful, little brother. You don't want to end up on the wrong side of his axe."
Morgan shrugged. "Do you think Miriel knows mending spells? I bet she does."
"Probably," Lucina agreed.
A thought struck Morgan. "Oh... Do you want it back when it's fixed?" He lowered his hands a little and looked his sister in the eye. "It was yours first."
"No, Morgan, but thank you." Her smile became a bit softer. "I don't need it anymore. You can keep it."
"You sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure," she laughed. "Maybe you'll need it for when Gerome starts hunting you down for making fun of him."
()()()
Morgan freezes, even though he's hot all over from his outburst.
Everyone in the room is staring at him. Emmeryn and Chrom look concerned. Robin's face is a mask. Phila stands and Frederick grabs an axe at his side.
Before the knight can threaten him, Morgan slides his hands back from the table and stands up straight, but keeps his head turned down a little. "I won't answer any more questions."
"But if what you say is true, then you must," Phila argues.
Morgan doesn't look at any of them. "I won't answer any more questions."
There's a tense silence. Emmeryn finally breaks it when she says, "All right, then. Guards, please take Mark back to his room. Continue to make sure he is comfortable."
The guards come forward, but before they can grab his arms, Morgan turns from the table and leaves as swiftly as possible.
When he's back in his room and alone, he rushes to the bed and buries himself under the covers. The air quickly becomes humid and sticky from his breath, but he doesn't care. He grabs a pillow, wishing it were his mother or father or sister, and buries his face against it. It pushes the mask into his skin.
"I can't do this," he says, his voice muffled. "I can't do this. I can't do this. I can't do this. Why didn't I die, too?"
He stays that way for a long while, muttering and feeling tears leak down the side of his face. He can't stop thinking about how Lucina would be so much better at this than him. So much more reliable. He can barely look at his parents without wanting to cry. He doesn't want them to die again.
Someone knocks on the door, probably an hour or two later, and the guards announce that his lunch has arrived. Morgan doesn't reply. Maybe they'll think he's asleep. Maybe they'll think he's dead.
They knock again, and then for a while there's silence. Morgan just convinces himself that he's all alone in the world when he hears another rapping.
"Mark? Are you awake?"
The voice startles him out of his stupor. He slowly sits up, the cool air hitting his skin like a winter wind.
"Mark?"
"O-one moment," he calls, using his sleeve to wipe the wet trails from his face. He gets out of bed, makes sure his hood hangs properly over his head, and approaches the door. He hesitates, then opens it.
Emmeryn smiles at him. "Young Mark. Would you like to walk with me?"
()()()
The courtyards are lush and green. Flowers of all types - roses and violets especially - color the area. It's warm in the summer sun, but there are plenty of trees to provide shade.
Morgan walks beside Emmeryn on a stone pathway. Phila follows them, but at a bit of a distance. Behind her are two women who appear to be pegasus knights, but Morgan's never seen them before.
"Are you comfortable in your quarters?" Emmeryn asks quietly, her voice smooth and pleasant.
"Y-yes, Your Exaltedness," Morgan replies. He keeps glancing at her, unsure of her, but her eyes are on the surrounding foliage.
"There are no problems?"
"No."
"I am told that you refused a meal."
The question catches him off-guard. He's expecting an interrogation, not this. But then again, he still doesn't know what to expect from Emmeryn. "I...was not hungry."
"Really?" Emmeryn says. She smiles. "I sometimes think that all men must eat like my brother. Rarely does he not eat, and he always has more than even a pegasus can have."
A chuckle escapes Morgan before he realizes it, because it's a very accurate description of his father. As soon as it's out he tries to take it back in and becomes silent again. He looks cautiously at Emmeryn again.
The Exalt is looking back at him.
"Young Mark," she says, "how old are you?"
He has to think the answer over before he can reply. "I believe...seventeen. I was born on the fifth of May. But the years since I was born...are hard to count."
"That is quite young," she remarks. "And you have few memories of your childhood, am I correct?"
Something about Emmeryn's voice makes him relaxed. Maybe she has a charm spell around her that makes her such a beloved leader, he muses to himself, hardly serious. She's simply an extraordinary sort of person.
"I do not have many," he admits. "I remember my parents...my mother more than my father. I have a - sibling," he says, reluctant to mention sister.
"What sort of people are your parents?"
Morgan looks at the flowers alongside the path and finds himself smiling. "They always put other people before themselves." He grins. "They're really sappy, especially my dad. Sometimes it's embarrassing."
Emmeryn lets out a small laugh. "That's wonderful."
Morgan shrugs. "But...I guess a lot of parents are like that."
"Mine were not."
He looks back to the Exalt to find that her smile has faded. However, it comes back as soon as she notices his attention.
"Do not concern yourself with it," she says. "It is of no importance."
Morgan doesn't know what to say, so he looks off to the side.
"Mark."
He looks back at her to find that she has stopped. He halts.
Emmeryn is no longer smiling. Her face is serious, her eyes narrowed in determination.
"I understand that you hold a precarious position," she says. "And I do not doubt that what you have told us is the truth. But if there is anything more that could benefit my people, I implore you: Tell me it now."
Morgan's heart sinks.
"...You are far too kind," he says quietly. He glances to the trailing pegasus knights, and deems that they're too far away to hear him if he keeps his words hushed.
He takes a breath. "In the first world...no, in both worlds...your kindness reaches the hearts of many. But...that kindness is not what is needed to win wars. Diplomacy can only go so far." He tries to meet her gaze head-on. "However hard it may be for you, sometimes you must choose violence. Sometimes there is no other way."
Emmeryn remains silent for a few moments. Finally, she nods and says, "I will consider your words when the time comes."
Morgan nods back. "That is all I can ask of you."
"Mark."
"Yes?"
She smiles softly. "Your family...I can keep them protected for you. And I promise no one will discern your identity."
Morgan lets out an unintentional huff and turns away. "That's not possible. But...I thank you for the offer."
()()()
Morgan returns to his room and finds that he isn't nearly as hopeless about the future as he was that morning. He's still uncertain, more uncertain than he's ever been in his life, but somehow, speaking to his aunt has calmed him.
He sits on the bed and takes off his mask. He traces his fingers along the edges. Lucina... I'm sorry we failed. But I promise I won't fail this time around. I won't give up, even if it's so hard I can barely breathe. You fought so hard for our happiness. Our friends did, too. I'll fight hard. I'll make sure the us in this world grow up happy.
A hard rapping sounds form his door, and Morgan hurriedly puts his mask back on and goes to turn the handle.
For the second time, he is surprised at who stands in the doorway.
"Mark," Chrom says. He stands tall, with one hand rested on the end of Falchion's hilt. His expression is determined, but there's also a small smile on his lips.
"C-Chrom?" Morgan stutters, suddenly very aware of how small he sounds.
"Get to bed early tonight," the lord says. "You're reporting to the Shepherds' barracks in the morning."
Morgan's brows knit together. "...Why?"
"We're marching to Regna Ferox."
Sorry for the short chapter. I'll make sure the next one is longer. (Wish me luck on my last final tomorrow!)