Title: A Future Undone - Part 2
Description: For a week Marc's Falchion has been acting strangely, the worst coming in painful visions and painful discharges of energy. So far no one one has been able to determine the cause. Blaming himself and growing desperate, Marc hatches a plan.
Note: Second chapter of Marc focused mini-arc. Takes place one month following the events of A Future Disowned. Spoiler Warning, if you have not read A Future Disowned and wish to avoid spoilers for that story, turn back now.
The days passed quickly since the first 'episode', as Marc had soon taken to calling them, where Falchion had lashed back against him. As promised his parents had set to work attempting to identify this cause. Days were spent pouring over the blade, from examining it through means both mundane and magical to scouring every written record of the weapon's history for the smallest clue. Yet despite the best efforts of his mother, father, sister, and everyone else they tried no one could determine the cause behind Falchion's sudden erratic behavior. His father alone had attempted countless spells for hours on end. to root out the cause but to no avail.
Marc had all but given up on practice, the agonizing backlashes that came seemingly at random whilst wielding the weapon growing more intense with each episode. What's worse, as far as he could determine only he was affected. His mother could handle it with no ill effects. His father too, the blade as dull and lifeless in his hands as it ever was for those not of the Exalted bloodline. Even his sister had no trouble, Morgan only reporting an uncomfortable sensation she couldn't rightly place compared to their mother's Falchion.
His parents had insisted they'd keep looking, that they were bound to get to the bottom of this eventually. But as time went on Marc could only feel that the failure meant one thing: that what was wrong with Falchion was on him. It was his fault, and so it was up to him to fix it.
The only problem, he could think of only one person who could possibly help him makes things right. Falchion's creator. Naga.
And so he hatched a plan.
It didn't take much to prepare the supplies he needed: a loaf of bread and some fruit swiped from the kitchens, a length of rope stored in the supply cellar, a map from the library, and a handful coins gather piecemeal over the course of a week. He made sure to gradually gather his supplies to avoid rousing suspicion, stowing them in a bundle under his bed until it was time.
Days passed until at last, he was ready.
He excused himself early that night, preparing for bed as he always had. Only tonight he only feigned sleep, laying motionless in bed for hours until the whole of the royal palace had fallen still, all it's densins having long since retired to bed. Slowly Marc got out of bed, passing with but a rustle of covers. In the bed opposite of him his sister snored softly, mumbling something unintelligible in her sleep. Deep sleeper as she was, Marc nonetheless moved as silently as he was able, creeping out into the hallway.
Making his way to his parents' bedroom, he opened the door an inch, peering inside. He managed to make out the forms of two people under the covers through the darkness. Good, they're both still asleep. Closing the door, Marc signed in relief. Peeking inside had been a stupid risk, but one he'd figured necessary. If they'd caught him then he could feign being woken by a nightmare: at worst delaying his departure by a couple of days. Being caught later because one or both of them had still been awake, however, would have proven far more disastrous.
Tip-toeing back to his room, Marc carefully removed his bundle of supplies from under his bed. Opening it, he withdraw the rope and looped it around one bedpost before tieing the two loose ends together. Taking the doubled up length to the window, he tossed it down, to the courtyard below. He'd made sure to measure the length beforehand, as it would need to be more than twice as long as the distance from his window to the ground for this method to work.
Strapping Falchion to his back, Marc slipped through the opening window, climbing down the rope. Reaching the bottom, he untied the two ends, carefully drawing one end to slips the whole length free. With one last tug the remaining rope slithered down onto the ground. Marc, smiled, pleased with his work. Despite requiring extra rope, this way had meant he could retrieve it when he was done. Not only could he now reuse it later on, but also had avoided leaving unnecessary signs to his departure. Now if he was lucky, he would be far from the Ylisstol by the time his absence was discovered. Far too late for anyone to stop him.
For a long moment Marc gazed back up at his room, a lump forming in his throat. Mother… Father… Morgan… I'm sorry, but I must do this. I promise I'll return once I make things right.
Sucking in a deep breath, Marc turned away, hardening his nerves for what must be done. Keeping to the cover of the trees, Marc made his way to the castle's outer wall, finding the small opening in the stonework that his grandfather had made while practicing some years before. When he and Morgan had been younger they'd often used it to sneak in and out of the palace. Not that they had ever made it very far: not of course when Mother and Father both new of this secret entrance.
Squeezing through, Marc descended down the hillside to the city proper, picking a route covered by bushes and trees to obscure his passing. At the bottom he found a spot between a line of hedges and a building out of sight from both the castle and the streets beyond. Opening his bundle of supplies, he changed out of his nightclothes into the clothes he'd picked days before. Rather than the Plegian style garments his sister and father wore, he had opted for apparel like his mother's. A padded vest of blue-dyed leather went over a simple tunic and trousers; bracers, shoulder guards, gloves and boots of the same material as the vest next. Covering his shoulder he draped a blue cloak, clasped by a bronze emblem identical to his mother's.
Rolling his shoulders, Marc stood, turning the face the darkened streets. With one last look behind him, he slinked into the shadows of an alleyway and out of sight,
. . . . .
The night deepened as Marc wound his way towards the main gate. The route he'd chosen was less than direct, avoiding main streets as to not draw undue attention. The night watchmen would certainly try to stop him, if only to question him as to why a child his age was out so late unattended.
Keeping close to the shows cast by a building, Marc crept closer within site of the city gate. Two guards stood to either side of the archway, their backs to the wall. Marc checked the night sky, doing some quick estimates in his head. Right, from the moon's position it looks like it's almost midnight. I just hope the guard's are on schedule. Indeed, he only had the deployment records to go on. If the watch shift had been changed early it would be several hours before the gates would be opened to let relive the watchtower post just further down the road.
Anxious minutes crawled by as Marc listened, waiting for the sound of armor clanking just beyond the outer wall. Come on, where are they. Where are they. They should be here by─ There!
The rhythmic beat of footsteps and the jingle of chain filled the air, faint at first, growing louder by the minute. Smiling, Marc reached into his bag, retrieving the tome he'd prepared just for this occasion. The spell was of Miriel's own design, duplicating the effects of Kellam's natural, pressenceless field. Rather than making him invisible the spell would make it more difficult for onlookers to focus on him, hopefully allowing him to slip by.
Chanting the spell softly under his breath, Marc finished the casting just as the footsteps stopped. With a creek the wooden gates swung open. Wasting no time he leapt to his feet, sprinting towards the door. A single surprised 'huh' filled the air as he almost ran head first into one of the watchmen on the other side, dodging out of the way just in time. Heart hammering, Marc dove down into the ditch just to the side of the road, daring not to even breath.
"What was… damn, must be seeing things. These night shifts are killin' me," the guardsman muttered, blinking as he stared the way Marc had come.
Slowly the guard passed through the gate, the wooden doors groaning shut a moment later.
Marc exhaled, relief laughing to himself under his breath. I did it! Father will be be so proud when he hears about it… after he's done being upset about me running away… yeah…. Dusting himself off, Marc let the spell end. Checking that the coast was clear, he scrambled out of the ditch, setting off down the road. Now all he had to do was slip past the watch-tower and he'd be in the─
"Going somewhere?"
Marc nearly leapt from his skin at the sudden voice. The tip of his boot caught on a rock, sending stumbling and arms flailing as he desperately fought to keep his balance. Managed to catch himself with one hand, he scrambled upright, whirling around.
There, at the side of the road, stood his father, mother, and sister, knowing smiles on all of their faces. All three were fully dressed, and from their relaxed stance must have been waiting for him for some time.
"Wha? I thought─ H-How did you─ But you were─" Marc stammered, his mind racing in an attempt to process how everything had gone wrong. His plan had been going perfectly too, he'd been sure none of them had picked up on it.
"Give me some credit, I am a master tactician after all. You'd have to wake up pretty early to have pull one over on me," his father replied, laughing. "Figuratively speaking, of course. Technically it is after midnight, so you did literally wake up really early for this time. Nonetheless, good effort."
"But I planned everything. How did you know I was going to─" He stopped himself, realising it was pointless. Clearly he had slipped up somewhere.
"To be truthful, after your Father and I couldn't figure out what was wrong with your Falchion we suspected you would attempt something of this nature," his mother explained, smiling softly. She turned her gaze to her husband, prompting him to continue
"So we kept a close eye on you. Then as soon we were sure you planned to leave I put our little counter operation in motion," Marc's father continued, grinning perhaps with a bit of smugness as he finished.
"But I saw both of you asleep. And I know you were asleep!" He argued, turning to point as finger at Morgan.
"I was faking it, duh," Morgan said, rolling her eyes indignantly. "It's really not hard, snore a little, mumble about cake and kittens, spy on you when you weren't looking. You know, normal stuff."
"As for your mother and I what you saw were nothing more than some extra pillows stuffed under covers. A bit of an overused trick, I know, but it holds up as long as you don't look too closely," the white haired tactician added. "Meanwhile the two of us were already waiting for you here. Morgan stayed behind since her not being in bed would have tipped you off, and so she could trail you in the event that you took another route out of the city."
"Yep!" Morgan said, grinning from ear to ear. "Once I was sure I teleported ahead to wait for you. Since I sure as heck wasn't about to miss the look on your face when you saw us. Good thing too: it was hil-ar-ious."
Marc frowned through the whole explanation, his heart sinking in his chest. Here he'd thought he'd been so clever, only for his family to end up being the ones to outsmart him. "I hadn't even thought... even considered that you'd… know I would try something like this. I thought I could do this on my own, fix this without…" He trailed off, hanging his head.
"Marc…" His mother said. Her hand came to rest on his arm, squeezing it gently. "You take after your father in many ways, and one of those is a tendency to blame yourself and feel like you must take full responsibility for any misfortune that befalls you, I am afraid," his mother added. "So you felt responsible for Falchion's state, and so took it upon yourself to fix the problem. To fix what you believed was your mistake."
"But it is my fault. All of it. I let Grima corrupt Falchion. I'm the one the blade is rejecting, me," Marc cried. Tears began to fill his eyes, blurring his vision. His shoulders shuddered once, a stifled sob falling from his throat. "I need to fix it. I know you'll try to stop me, but I won't listen. I won't!"
"Marc. Who said anything about us stopping you?" His mother said, her voice gentle. "We wouldn't have let you come this far if we didn't understand that you need to do this."
"Let's face it kiddo, the only thing your we're going to stop is this whole 'going off alone' business. We're your family, and that mean's we're going to help you whether you like it or not." His father added. Stepping aside, his father motioned to the pair of backpacks that had been sitting behind him, laden with supplies and gear one would need for a long journey. "Besides, I don't quite think you packed enough things to get you all the way to Mount Prism."
As feeling stupid went, Marc couldn't remember an instance where he felt dumber than he did right now. Gods, he'd been so worried about them trying to stop him that it had never crossed his mind that the opposite was true. Of course they'd be there to support him. He'd spent so much time alone... that he'd forgotten that he wasn't any any longer.
"I… I don't… Thank you… I'm an idiot, not telling you in the first place. I was so scared, but now… now I don't have to do this alone." He wiped his eyes on his sleeve, the first genuine smile of the night gracing his lips. Then he froze, something he'd noticed occurring to him then. "Wait, why are there only two bags? Shouldn't there be four"
"That's because only I will be accompanying you," his mother answered. "This journey is as much about you finding peace with your past, Marc. It was your father's judgement that all of our presences would prove far too distracting, a belief I am inclined to agree with." She smiled, motioning her hand to where her own Falchion was buckled at her side. "More so, I have the most experience with Falchion, so it is only right that I am the one to aid you in your quest. Together we shall seek council and undo the remaining harm Grima has left in this world."
"But you're pregnant, mother! Is it safe for you to come with? What if something were to happen?" Marc exclaimed, fearful for the safety of his and Morgan's unborn younger selves.
"That's why she has you to protect her," his father answered, reaching out to tousle Marc's hair. "Don't worry kiddo, I wouldn't be counting on you if I didn't think you could do it."
"And the best part is that while you and mother are away, father and I get to spend some quality time together. We can stay up late, practice strategy, read books, play tome stackers, tell scary stories, eat as much dessert as we want without mother stopping us, and─" His sister rattled off cheerfully, bouncing up and down in place.
"I think he gets the point, Morgan." The older tactician sighed, placing a hand on Morgan's shoulder to hold her still.
"Well, Marc, we must be off," his mother told him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "If we make good time we can reach the sea within two days. From there we can catch a ferry to the mountain." She turned back to her husband and Morgan. "I take it you two will do your best to stay out of trouble while I'm gone."
"We'll try our best. No promises though." Robin grinned, stepping forward he pulled her into a tight hug, planting a kiss on the princess' forehead. "Be safe."
"I promise," Lucina whispered.
Marc's father lingered for another moment before loosening his embrace, turning to regard him now. "Marc, before you go, just remember: You're always your worst enemy. It's something I've learned from experience. Doubt yourself, and you will fail. Don't let that happen." He hugged him as he finished, pulling him close. "You stay safe too, okay? I couldn't live with myself if I let something happen to you. After everything, I'd be ashamed if I couldn't owe you that much."
"D-Dad, it's okay," Marc stammered, returning the hug. "I promise, I'll be fine. I can handle myself, really." Letting go, Marc pulled away. Turning he stepped back towards his mother tot─
Smack.
"Good luck, little brother! Just remember you bestest sister in the whole world believes in you, and that means you can do anything!" Morgan exclaimed cheerfully, Marc still reeling from the hard slap on his back.
"Thanks," Marc managed, shooting his sister a look he hoped conveyed both his irritants and how genuinely touched by her faith in him. Sighing as Morgan scrambled back over to their father, Marc rubbed the now sore spot just under his shoulder.
Stooping down, he shouldered one of the two packs, his mother doing the same with the other. "Well, I suppose we better be off then, huh, Mother?" Marc said, forcing a smile to his lips.
"Let's." She smiled back at him, adjusting the straps on her pack. Giving one last wave to their family, the two turned away, setting off down the road and the adventure ahead.
Author's Note: Well, sorry for how late this one was, I have had a lot of stuff going on. I'd intended to get this out last week, but clearly that didn't happen. XP
Oh well, hopefully the next one will be out sooner. There should be about three ish more Chapters of this mini-arc, so in the meantime please leave your thoughts, suggestions, and comments in a review. It really makes my day to hear from you guys :D