Anyone could tell that Morgan was her son; his sociability, his intelligence, his ability to do anything he set his mind to, his interest in tactics, the way he followed his mother around like a duckling, and that was only scratching the surface. Yet, he was his son as well. Besides his hair, height, and fighting class, which were all physical traits, in what way was Morgan like him?


Another chapter, also incomplete, and it will probably never to be continued.

I know that I wanted to continue this, but I can't remember how. I think Lucina would have appeared, and Freddy realizes the truth in the end, but how I get to that point from where I ended is a mystery.

Once again, please enjoy.

I do not own Fire Emblem or any of it's characters.


A sigh; an uncharacteristic noise for the man made the two look up.

"Frederick?" The knight turned blankly, blinking at his wife. "Is something wrong?"

"Of course not, Robin. Why would you think such a thing?"

"Well, it might have to do with the look on your face, or maybe the fact that the tea you brought back is cold. Very un-Frederick."

"What?" The knight went over to touch the kettle, pouring some in a cup; as Chrom said, it was not hot, warm, or even tepid, it was cold. "…How?"

"Father!" The three turn to look at the tent flap, seeing Morgan standing in the entry way. "You forgot this." The brunet walks in, placing down a kettle. "…Is something wrong, Father? Your face seems a little unsettled."

"Everything is fine, Morgan."

"Yah? O-okay." The Cavalier started walking out, but turned. "Y-you're still helping me with tonight's dinner, right, Father?"

"Of course. We're meeting at three, yes?"

"Yes. And maybe you'd be free for an evening spar?"

"If that is what you wish, although, being my son doesn't mean I'll take it easy on you."

"Of course! I wouldn't expect any less! I'll see you later, Mother, Father, Lord Chrom." With a wave, the boy left the tent; and with the child gone, another sigh left the knight.

"Well, that makes sense, I suppose. It seems you left the new kettle in the mess tent, and brought the old one back." The tactician finished the cold tea given to her, pouring the steaming brew into her cup. "Now really, Frederick, what has gotten into you?"

"It is nothing, Robin."

"Nothing doesn't explain you being forgetful, Frederick."

"It is…It is…" The knight, the eloquent, yet sarcastic speaker, was having trouble stringing words together.

"Is Morgan bothering you somehow?" The platinum put down the Pegasus pawn she had been playing with in her hand, instead grabbing a biscuit, nibbling on the treat.

"What! Of course not! Morgan has been completely cooperative and helpful!"

"But, it deals with Morgan, doesn't it?"

"…Yes."

"Do I have to pull it out of you, Frederick?"

"N-no, I…I am only disheartened by something inconsequential, Robin. It is nothing."

"You're my husband, though, and my friend. I don't like seeing you like this."

"Even just saying your problems out loud can help sometimes, Frederick." Chrom gave a smile.

With a sigh, the man nodded, sitting as his wife gestured him to do. "…Morgan is so much like you."

"Isn't that normal, for a child to be like their parent? I mean, there are cases where children are complete opposites, due to a complex or something, but that has nothing to do with this."

"I suppose, yes, but he is very much like you."

"Umm…well…" Chrom put his hand out stopping the tactician from continuing.

"I think I understand your problem, Frederick. Morgan is very much like you, Robin; Frederick is struggling to see himself in your son."

"He has your hair color and height. He's also a Cavalier, like you were once."

"Those are all physical traits, Robin! How is Morgan like me?" He had no idea when, but he was standing, staring straight at his wife. She could see his pain; he knew he couldn't deal with the problem right now. With a few breaths, the knight composed himself. "I'm sorry, Robin, milord. I need a few moments." With that, the knight left the tent.

"Fred-!"

Chrom stopped the platinum. "Robin, he needs sometime to himself."

"B-but…"

"I think a lot of men are having trouble with that in the army. Many of the kids are more like their mothers than their fathers. I know Sumia had this worry with Lucina, as I'm having the same problem with Cynthia. I know Vaike's been having a hard time with Laurent, and Gaius with Gerome. It's a problem quite a few Shepherds are dealing with; I just never realized it was a problem for Frederick."

"…But Morgan is very much like his Father."

xxx

He couldn't believe he yelled at his wife. Yes, he felt a little better, finally getting the problem off his chest, but now he felt horrible in how he treated Robin.

"Gerome!"

The man let out a sigh, trying to figure out what to do. He couldn't go back into the tent, but it was still too early to meet Morgan for dinner preparation.

"Gerome, I know you're silent, but why don't you answer? I brought the sweets you asked for."

Frederick turned around, seeing Laurent talking to a…bucket and black drape? "Laurent?"

"…Apologies, who's there?" The Mage turned around, obviously without his trademark glasses. "Fred…erick?"

"Yes. Do you need help with something?"

"No, I'm perfectly fine. Thank you for the thought though."

"Then you were purposefully talking to a bucket?"

"A bucket?" The blond touches "Gerome." "…That would explain why he didn't respond. …I suppose if you have time, some assistance would be appreciated."

"Of course."

"Would you perchance know where Gerome is?"

"Gerome? No, I haven't seen him."

"…I see. Thank you." With that, the Mage started off. However, the few seconds after meandering off, he came close to confronting a pyramid of crates. Before crashing, Frederick pulled him back.

"Perhaps it would be best if I helped you, yes?"

Laurent put his hand out, touching the boxes in front of him. "Y-yes, that might be for the best."

Frederick grabbed the boy's elbow, pulling him along. "Where might Gerome be?"

The blond hummed. "At this time of day, either the training ground, with Minerva, or possibly in his tent. I would say the training ground is our best bet."

The brunet nodded, although he was fairly certain Laurent couldn't see it. "May I ask what happened to your glasses?"

"Hmm… Well, it was merely an untimely tumble." The blond pulled out a sack, opening it to reveal the glasses. Broken in half at the nose, the right side's lens was shattered, the other was missing. "Severa and I were out shopping for supplies and I became distracted by a smudge on my spectacles, so I stopped in the middle of the road, oblivious to the comings-and-goings of oncoming traffic. Before I knew it, I'm yanked to the side by Severa due to some poor soul losing control of his rampaging horse. Sadly, due to the sudden jerk, I dropped my glasses thus, leading them to be crushed by the said horse. Gladly we had already finished out shopping, but I received quite an earful on our return trip."

"I see. I'm surprised you don't have a spare glasses."

"…That is even more embarrassing." The youth sighed, a slight blush on his face. "I do, I just can't remember where I placed them. I'm certain I saw it recently, after we set up camp here, but after that, I'm not certain where they went."

"How troubling. Did Severa just leave you to fend for yourself?"

"Ah, no! She's a little unforgiving at times, yes, but being that I couldn't see, she decided to take care of putting away the stock herself. She then told me she would be back so we could go to town and get a new pair of glasses."

"How kind of her, but obviously you didn't stay put."

"Yes, she will probably give me an earful later, but I had to give something to Gerome. He's been running low on his stash, and he's too embarrassed to admit it."

"…Stash?"

"Oh! I shouldn't have said anything. Please forget what I said."

"Are you talking about sweets?"

"How did you-?"

"When you were talking to your bucket friend."

"Oh… Well… Yes. Please don't say anything to anyone, I think the only people who know are myself, Inigo, Lucina, and Cynthia. Inigo, Cynthia, and myself try to help sustain his little addiction, since he's in a worse mood otherwise, but he prefers to keep such knowledge, under wraps. I have a feeling Cherche, Robin, and Morgan have an inkling about it, but none of them have confronted Gerome about it."

"Morgan? I can understand Cherche and Robin, but Morgan?"

"I believe so. Your son, like his mother, is very perceptive. I think a few weeks back, when we weren't near a village, and both he and his father was running low on sugar, Morgan actually gave Gaius and Gerome pies, telling them he made it for his mother, but they didn't turn out how he planned, so he was trying to get rid of them. Or something to that effect."

"…He does take after Robin, doesn't he?"

"He does in his own way, yes, but I think he's a bit more like you, Frederick."

"…What do you-?"

"Father! What are you doing here?" The knight turned, realizing they had meandered into the training area. Besides his son, there was Cynthia and Owain. Morgan and Cynthia seemed to be having a sparring match with practice swords, while Owain was carving a wooden blade.

"…Morgan?"

"Laurent! I didn't recognize you without your glasses!" The Cavalier came over, as did the cobalt, although the white haired boy looked up briefly, only to return to his task.

"You're looking very dashing without them!"

"Thank you, Cynthia. However, I'm looking for Gerome. Being I can see nary a thing, Frederick has been guiding me around camp."

"Gerome, huh? I haven't seen him since this morning."

"You should probably check his tent," The Myrmidon blows on the blade, getting rid of the wood chips. Holding the wood up briefly to inspect it, he notices a few discrepancies, so he flips the blade to continue carving. "He's usually there by now."

"His tent? Hmmm…Yes, I'll go there next. Thank you." With that, the Mage turned, followed by the brunet, who stopped hearing his name, well…title, called.

"Father?"

"Yes, Morgan?"

"If you're helping Laurent, will you still have time to help me with dinner?"

"I don't think this search will continue too much longer. I'll be there when we're done."

The boy hummed, looking a bit disheartened. "…Okay."

"…What are you planning to make tonight, Morgan?"

"Most likely a soup or stew. If the hunting team caught some large game, maybe a roast, but most likely a stew."

"Very well. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Thank you, Father." With that the knight turned, walking to the exit. He turned back briefly, catching Cynthia and Morgan preparing for another bout. As he walked away, seeing Laurent waiting blankly for him, he hears the swift hit of wood on body, and a whine.

"I keep telling you, Cynthia, stop trying to draw your sword from the ground! Even if you can plunge the wood into the earth without breaking the practice blade, you won't be able to pull it out. As well, it delays your reaction time!" There was a strange sharpness to the boy's tone, one that he never heard from his son before, yet something familiar.

"But, Morgan! Father does it, and he looks so heroic!"

"Well, you're not your father, and he does it with steel. A steel blade won't keep breaking every time you try to plunge it into the ground!"

"Then let's use steel weapons!"

"And risk you destroying the training area again? What will Father say?"

"…We can just blame it on Lucy or Father…I'm sure Father would cover for me…"

"Just give it up, Morgan. Cyn's stubborn."

The noise his boy made was part hmph and part snort. "I'm pretty stubborn too, Owain. Now, Cynthia! Let's try this again! I need to start prepping dinner soon! …Get into stance. Move your back leg a little back. Yes like that, goo-…"

By now Frederick and Laurent were too far to hear the rest of the conversation. "…What was that?"

"Hmm?" The Mage tried to push up his glasses, forgetting they were not there. "I think Morgan's training Cynthia. I hear, following Dark Flyer, she's planning to become a Paladin. You wouldn't think it, but following the lance, her next fondest weapon is the sword."

"Morgan's…training…Cynthia?"

"…Didn't you know? Most of the children, except maybe Kjelle and Gerome, go to your son for practice and training. In all honesty, from our generation, Gerome, Kjelle, and Lucina are best in axe, lance, and sword, respectively. However, Morgan is usually in the top three for most weapons beside bow and healing. Due to that, and the ease of his teaching style, quite a few people go to him for pointers."

"…I, had no idea."

"I am not surprised, Morgan's quite humble. He doesn't enjoy being in the limelight, even if he is one of the better fighters."

"That does sound like him."

The Mage nods. "On another matter entirely, are we there yet? I feel it's around here somewhere. Or maybe we passed it?"

"A few more tents down. This one I believe." The knight pulled the blond to the tent flap.

"Gerome?" A gruff noise responded. "I've got those things you asked for."

"GIVE…me…" The Wyvern Rider yanked open the tent flap, stopping in mid-demand when he realized Frederick was there. Laurent pulled out the bag, filled to the brim with random sweets. "…I don't want it."

"Take it, Gerome. Frederick already knows about your sweet tooth, and I'm sure he won't say anything to your father."

The ginger stared warily at Frederick, finally taking the bag, putting a mint into his mouth. "…Laurent," The man was "smoothly" changing the subject. "Where are you glasses?"

A sigh. "They broke this morning, and I can't seem to remember where I put my spare."

"…A moment." Gerome disappeared into his tent, returning with a pair of glasses. "Would these happen to be them? They were left in the barracks a few nights ago. I assumed they were yours, being only you and your mother wear glasses in the army."

"Hmm… Ah, yes! They are! Excelsior!"

"With that problem solved, I should probably get going. I have some plans to keep."

"Ah, yes, thank you very much, Frederick." The knight turned, starting to head to the mess tent. "Frederick," The brunet turned back. "Morgan is more like you then you think. I have faith." The man nodded, continuing ahead.

Once the Great Knight was gone, Gerome turned to the blond. "…What was that about?"

"Only a man worried that his son has no traits from him." The ginger could only hum in response.


If it was not obvious...I wonder if you caught all the given pairings...

Fred/FeMU
Chrom/Sumia
Gaius/Cherche
Vaike/Miriel
Lon'qu/Cordelia (implied)
Henry/Lissa (Looking back on this now...I have no idea how Owain was like Henry in this...maybe it was supposed to appear later in the story...)

...man...I really liked bucket Gerome...