Chapter 8

Morgan draped the strap of the bulky, darkly colored bag over her shoulder, taking a few steps out of the way to indicate she was leaving.

"You're certain this is what you want to do? You can't accompany your mother for just a little longer?" Tharja asked, just a few paces behind her daughter.

Morgan looked down to her mother's slightly distended stomach, fully aware of its implication, "Yes. You have a daughter who is really all your own now. You should focus on taking care of her."

"You know I always considered you my daughter, too, Morgan," her mother reassured.

The corners of her mouth creased into a smile, "Yes. I know. But I don't belong in this timeline. Not yet, at least. I might come to visit once in a blue moon, but you need to focus on your daughter in this time. She's the one whose future matters most now."

"Morgan, didn't you tell your father and I once that you had an older sister?" Tharja cast her daughter a quizzical glance.

Morgan stopped, her eyes nearly welling at the mere thought of her lost sister, "I did."

"Then, do you suppose…?" Tharja let the question hang in the air as she put a hand to her stomach.

"Quite possibly," she nodded. She tugged at the bag and lifted it off her shoulder insistently, "I should get going."

Tharja's face told Morgan she had more to say, but she resigned herself, "Fine. Just… just don't die, all right? And maybe stop every once in a while to let your mother know you're okay, got it, kiddo?"

"Yes ma'am," she smiled in a half-salute before heading out. Morgan walked slowly as she took in the rolling sands of her homeland, sans the ravages of war. Curious, she thought, how a terrain so considerably inhospitable could seem beautiful to her eyes. She was walking along her birthplace before she had been born; quite an experience, that. She thought back to her father, but now her mind was confused: did she mean the father who had died in the castle, sending her on this voyage, or the father who had sacrificed himself to bring an end to the Fell Dragon? Much though she wished it otherwise, she was forced to concede that there was no way she could consider them to be the same people; they had mad some rather broad differences in opinion. And yet, Morgan sighed, the version of her father from this timeline had welcomed her with open arms, without provocation or convincing. He had seemingly known her despite never seeing her before. Could it be that he had known he would find her? And what of her father from the ruined future? He, Morgan recalled, at times, seemed to know precisely the sort of questions Morgan would ask and what she would be interested in learning. Until now, Morgan had chalked it up to fortuitous synchronization of like minds among a family, but now… Might there have been something else? Something each saw in her long before she arrived to them? She buried the thought as she carried on, afraid to have melancholy consume her on this journey before it even began. She was determined that she would see the people and sights of the world before they could be destroyed before her eyes again.

She skipped over Ylisse, despite Chrom, Olivia, and even, she nearly retched at the invitation, Lucina's begging her to stay with them in reverence for her father's deeds. She still never provided the Ylisseans with a reason for why she would not join them for a celebration or simple sojourn of any sort, only replying that her "personal interests" would greatly interfere with such a meeting. She cursed herself a bit for holding a grudge against people who hadn't even had the chance to make the mistake for which she held them in contempt, but hatred was an emotion familiar to her, one of the only things familiar to her in this world, so she held on to it.

She stayed a stint in Regna Ferox, graciously accepted by the Khans Basilio and Flavia, who celebrated her father's courageous sacrifice. They were perplexed when Morgan idly remarked that their comments were almost painfully familiar. Nonetheless, she took in the crowded city streets and harsh atmosphere of the land for a few weeks, enjoying some local cuisine and the chance to warm up from the sharp, cold winds in wonderfully cozy fire-heated cabins. She thanked the Khans for their help and hospitality before leaving, reminding Basilio that he had a new lease on life, and should take care not to waste it. He mulled the advice over interestedly as he and his fellow ruler waved the girl off on her boat to Chon'sin.

When she arrived at Chon'sin, she was a trifle bemused to see the harbor looking almost exactly as it had in her own time. Either the people of Chon'sin were slow workers, or their labors at rebuilding proved highly ineffective. Morgan decided to set down at the harbor and try the strange raw fish in rice that she had seen on her first errand to the country. She found that it was called "sushi" and was something of a delicacy in Chon'sin. She was not thrilled with the prospect of consuming raw fish, but discovered that it was, beyond all reasoning, actually quite good. After leaving the harbor, she quickly found a young Say'ri still attempting to establish herself as the dynast in charge of the country. Morgan was surprised when the young dynast recalled her and addressed her as "Morgan-dono," which, she explained to Morgan, was a term of her utmost respect, in part in reverence for her father and part because of the valor she displayed in the fight against Grima. "Dare I say it, milady, I should think you might make for quite a ruler yourself," she added. Morgan thanked the young woman for her kind words and reminded her that she had a job before her from which she could not rest until it was finished. Say'ri concurred, and Morgan moved on.

Where would she go now? She stood on a dock just off the small harbor, staring out over the sea. She might head west to explore the rest of Valm, but what did that offer her? There were a few sights more in the interest of treasure hunters, but she had already visited those in her march with the Shepherds. She certainly couldn't bring herself to return to Plegia yet; it had only been a few months since she'd left. What a life this was, she shook her head sardonically, a future saved only to be spent staying as far away from loved ones as possible. She retired to her rented room for the evening with the thought irrepressibly lodged in her mind. When she awoke the next morning, she elected to take a walk through the misty fall air and stand along the rolling hills of the Chon'sin countryside as the sun rose.

As she stood and watched day break, there came a small, uncertain voice at her side, one she recognized, but could not place: "Hail, Morgan. Might I trouble you for a moment of your time?"

Morgan's mind raced as she turned around. There, before her, stood the very image of her contempt: Lucina, the royal of House Ylisse, who had ordered her father's execution in her own time. Here she stood, asking Morgan for a chat. "Lucina. What brings you here?" Morgan managed, stifling the urge to draw her sword.

"I came in pursuit of you for a few reasons, the first of which is, why do you continue to refuse invitations to meet us all in Ylisstol? And why can I remember all of the other children who arrived from the future except for you?" the blue haired royal commanded.

Morgan sighed deeply. There was no sense in pretense now, she supposed, now that her father had already passed, what more could this selfish, silver-spoon-graced girl do to her? "Because, I'm not from your future," she declared.

Lucina raised and eyebrow and put her hand to her chin, "But, then, how? I was able to return to the past thanks to the power of and sacred covenant my family holds with Naga."

Morgan almost wanted to smile as she lowered her shoulder out of her prized cloak to show Lucina the Mark that had cursed her to her fate, "And, by a twist of fate, I had Grima, my father, to do the same."

Lucina examined Morgan's shoulder quizzically for a moment, "I see. But why are you showing me your bare shoulder?"

"Bare?" Morgan looked down to discover that it was true. The strange Mark that had condemned her among Ylisseans all her life had, all at once, disappeared from her body entirely. "I used to have a Mark there, like the Brand in your eye," she remarked simply, covering herself again.

Lucina nodded in affirmation, "But, then, I still must ask why it is you are so obstinate toward House Ylisse. What happened in your future?"

Morgan took a deep breath, "In short, several years after Grima was sealed, you determined that my father would be the death of the world and bid your own father execute him, as well as my mother, my sister, and I. I narrowly escaped with my life due to… a lapse in your father's judgment."

Lucina cupped a hand over her mouth, "That can't possibly be true!"

"And why would I lie?" growled Morgan, "I'm not ashamed to say that after that, in my own future, I killed you and your father. Killed you with contempt, with fury. And I would do it again."

Lucina evaluated the raven-haired girl's response, "I'm… sorry. I know that consolation means nothing to you, but I do apologize. I don't know what my future self was thinking, but that was an act both despicable and reprehensible."

"Hmph," Morgan grunted. Somehow, it felt satisfying to hear the words escape from those royal lips. "What other business did you have?" she asked after a moment.

"I was told your father… might still be alive," Lucina looked to the girl earnestly.

"That can't be…" Morgan stammered. She remained wary; Lucina could still be leading her into a trap.

"I can't say for certain, but witnesses have described a mysterious figure in Southtown who fits his description," Lucina recounted.

Southtown, thought Morgan, of course. A little village at the southern border of Ylisse, none too far from the capital. Who would notice if a little girl were to suddenly "disappear" within its walls? "Terribly sorry, but why should I believe you?" Morgan huffed.

Lucina was visibly irritated by the insinuation, "Morgan, honestly! I apologize for what the version of me in your future did, but there isn't anything I can do to change that now. I'm just trying to reunite a lost girl with her father, like I wanted as soon as I returned to this timeline."

Morgan considered and evaluated the Ylissean for a moment before at last dropping her guard, "All right. Am I to return with you?"

"That was the plan," Lucina nodded.

"Fine, then. But I'm not taking my eyes off of you," allowed Morgan. She followed as Lucina began to walk back toward the harbor.

The trip took only a few days. Morgan enjoyed the feel of the seas as they coasted along, but it was clear Lucina did not share her contentment. The young lord had retired to the lower decks for most of the voyage, while Morgan waited, arms resting on the bow of the ship, ever ready to meet whatever waited at the shore for her.

At one point, Lucina emerged from within the ship, pale green overtaking her face. Nonetheless, she approached Morgan, "Morgan, might we speak a moment?" The raven-haired girl shrugged. "I want to try to make things better, Morgan," pleaded Lucina.

"Why? What's done is done. I'm not like to forget it soon," spat Morgan, still staring straight ahead.

"That's it precisely," Lucina begged, "the sooner you can come to forgive me, the sooner you'll be able to be… happy again."

"Clearly I'm not meant to be happy," Morgan scoffed, "else my father would still be alive. Twice over."

"You can't think like that," Lucina extended a hand to the girl's shoulder.

She promptly whipped away from it and kicked in Lucina's direction, though she dodged the strike, "Don't put your hands on me."

"I'm sorry," she sighed. "Just… tell me what I can do to make this right for you," Lucina stamped her foot.

"Go back below decks, where you're out of my sight, and try to stay out of my sight for as long as you can," Morgan resumed her position at the bow.

"I wish you'd at least try. I'm not even the one you need to be angry with; she's dead, as you told me. You've got nowhere left to pin your anger but me, and you know it," Lucina deduced.

A wild fury caught Morgan's eye as she turned curtly to the young lord, "If you're looking to make a corpse of yourself, you're making some decent headway."

Lucina froze. Being around Tharja for some time allowed her to very easily see her daughter shared one of the more frightening stares her mother had once shown Lucina, the occasion being after word of her threatening Robin had reached camp. She turned quickly to begin walking back to the lower decks, "Fine. Forget it. I give up."

The two continued to avoid one another until the ship finally reached port in Ylisse a few days later, only a few miles from Southtown, Lucina had assured. As Morgan stepped off the ship, she found Lucina waiting for her again. "Will you at least promise to be respectful of my father?" she pleaded, grabbing for Morgan's hand as she descended.

Morgan accepted the hand, "At least your father still deserved some of my respect. He refused to kill any children, unlike you."

"So, is that a 'yes?'" Lucina demanded irritably.

"Yeah," spat Morgan, letting the hand go and pressing onward. The two girls, gems of bygone eras, heroes in worlds that no longer existed, set off into the great plains of Ylisse by themselves, silently keeping stride with one another in a soft march to Southtown. It was when they reached the pale, beige streets of Southtown, adorned by luscious teal waters that sparkled in the day light, that they met with Lucina's father, the other cobalt-haired center of Morgan's ire. Still, she meant what she had said, and waited silently as the new Exalt drew near her and his own daughter.

"Morgan. At long last," he sighed congenially, meeting her eyes at close range.

"Exalt Chrom," she droned, not moving.

"It's customary to bow your head outside of war," Lucina coughed.

"I don't bow," she sneered.

"It's fine, Lucina. You know how I don't care for formality, at any rate," Chrom placed his hand on his daughter's shoulder. He looked back to Morgan and did his best to look hopefully optimistic, "Has Lucina told you? We think we might have found your father."

"That's why I'm here," Morgan tapped her foot, folding her arms together.

"Of course," Chrom remarked simply, "Come along, we'll take you to where the villagers have reported seeing him."

Morgan nodded and began to walk slowly behind the newly exalted Ylissean, his daughter also in tow, not above keeping a sharp eye on Morgan while she stood at Chrom's back. They walked for at least an hour or two along the rolling green hills that extended out of Southtown in every direction before finally coming to a small clearing. At once, Morgan saw exactly what the villagers had reported. There he was, that pile of blue-black fabric was her father. Her mind silenced itself for a moment as she rushed down the hill to him, leaving Chrom and Lucina in her dust as she slid and dashed over to the spot. Then she stopped. She had already left her mother and unborn sister. Would she burden her father, too, with the knowledge that she was alive but out of his reach? Maybe she just wouldn't leave… No, that had been decided. She couldn't allow herself to interfere with the raising of either her or her sister. No, Morgan resolved, unable to prevent tears from pooling in her eyes, her task was completed. The knowledge that her father was alive was enough for her. He would forget about her as time passed on.

"Morgan! Something the matter?" Chrom waved a hand in front of her face. He had descended the hill and Lucina was still close behind.

She nearly choked trying to swallow her emotions as she prepared to speak with Chrom, "I… I have to leave."

Chrom's eyes shot wide, "What?! Not wanting to see us in Ylisse I can understand. I'm sure you have your reasons, but you love your father more than anything in the entire world! I've seen as much before my own eyes! How can you possibly want to leave now?!"

"Because of what you just said," Morgan's fists tightened as she pivoted away from her father's body, "I love him more than anything, and I don't want to get in the way of his loving… me. The me in this time."

Chrom shook his head, bewildered, "Are you absolutely certain? I know for a fact he'd love to have stay with him and your mother."

"I know. And that's why I have to go. Morgan has a bright future ahead of her now. I'll not see it wasted again," Morgan continued, not daring to look back.

"Will you tell me this much, Morgan?" Chrom took a step toward her, "Why did you refuse to ever meet with me?"

"The future I was trying to subvert was one wherein you murdered my father and mother," Morgan announced simply.

Chrom's eyebrows knitted in concern, "Truly? Morgan… I don't know what to say. I'm so sorry…"

"There's nothing left to say, Ylissean. Just promise me you'll never repeat that mistake," Morgan lifted her feet to begin walking away. They felt like lead.

"On my honor as exalt," Chrom placed a hand over his chest to indicate his sincerity.

"Good. And if you do, don't think I won't come after you," she barked, stepping still further away.

Chrom nodded without responding as the young woman plodded heavily away. He bid his daughter rouse Robin from his place on the ground. He awoke almost immediately, rising slowly and looking bewildered to Chrom. After regaining his wits, Robin asked about his wife's whereabouts and prepared to leave for her. Before leaving the Ylisseans, he also asked Chrom whether his daughter was at home with Tharja. Chrom closed his eyes, barely able to utter the words, and told his best friend that his daughter wanted to be away from him. For his sake, Chrom mentioned, as Morgan had told him. Robin took the news unhappily, of course, but he knew his daughter. She was strong, resilient, and able to make the best of any situation. She had done this for a reason, and Robin wouldn't fight her on it. He wished her only the best in a silent prayer as he began to head home.

Morgan spent the remainder of her days wandering the world, searching for something new to distract her from thoughts of her parents. Every now and again she would receive news about them. They had taken up the Plegian throne again within a year of the birth of their first daughter, who they named Noire. Not more than a year later, they had a second daughter, whose name was no shock to anyone. Morgan waited until the year of her father's assassination and, when it became clear that she really had averted her disastrous future, she breathed a sigh of relief for the first time in a long time. Her search for news about her parents and their new family dropped off sharply after that date. She still smiled to hear tell of the raven-haired heiress of the Plegian throne, and how her charmingly determined cheerfulness brought light and warmth into the heart of her family as they lived on into a ripe old age together.