Fire Emblem Siblings Week 2023

Kaze's Return

Today is the two month mark. Two months since they lost contact with Kaze in Nohr. 

It would be customary to presume Kaze dead, by now. The damn fool just had to go. Not that Saizo could have denied him, of course. He was among the best of them; only, he didn’t have a liege to bind him, like Saizo or Kagero did. So when they needed someone to gather intel from the deepest parts of Nohr, of course the damn fool volunteered. 

The first week that Kaze’s reports stopped coming, Saizo tried to ignore the way his stomach churned with dread. Kaze was fine. Right?

When two weeks passed, Kagero took notice. Do you want to talk, Saizo? She had offered. He turned her away without a word. Kaze would be fine.

After a month, Ryoma asked about the status of Kaze’s mission. Saizo grimly told the truth: they’d lost contact four weeks ago. I’m so sorry, Saizo. Please, let me know if you need any time away from your duties. 

Saizo had ignored the stinging in his eyes and sinking feeling in his gut. 

It’s been two months, now. So Saizo is already in a bad mood when the messenger bursts into the room.

“Lord Saizo!” 

He grits his teeth under his mask and turns to the entryway. “Excuse me? You’re breaching protocol by barging in here–” 

The messenger swiftly bows, but holds out a small, folded parchment. Saizo recognizes it as a carrier hawk note. 

 “I apologize, sir,” the messenger scrambles, “but it’s from your brother! I presumed that you would have wanted–”

Saizo snatches the parchment, causing the messenger to flinch. “Thank you,” Saizo growls. “Dismissed.” 

Saizo’s heart is pounding in his ears so much that he can hardly hear the messenger leave. He presses the paper flat against a desk and smooths it out. It’s coded, but he can quickly recognize the handwriting:

It’s Kaze. 

It’s terse, but it confirms it: his brother is alive. 

That evening, he reads the decoded report out loud to Kagero. 

“‘Reporting: Suzukaze. After most recent update, was captured and compromised. Held captive in Castle Krakenburg.’” 

Kagero gasps. “Oh my,” she says. “They held him in Krakenburg? That must’ve been serious.” 

Saizo nods and continues. “‘No intel disclosed in interrogation. Was able to escape.’”

“Gods. They tortured him,” Kagero laments. “We need to conduct an extraction right away–”

“He’s being a damn fool,” Saizo interrupts. “He doesn’t want an extraction yet.” 

“What? But protocol is to go through a debriefing after being compromised?” 

Saizo huffs and reads the rest of the letter: 

“‘Please restock drop-point at Bottomless Canyon. Need to investigate important development before leaving Nohr. Will report back in one week.’” 

“An important development?” Kagero asks, taking the parchment and flipping it to see if there’s more written. “That’s it? He doesn’t add anything else?” 

Saizo shakes his head.

Part of him wants to drop everything and rush to the Bottomless Canyon right away. But he can’t ignore his duties to Prince Ryoma. And Kaze knew the risks of the mission when he volunteered, and was prepared to handle anything– including recovering from Nohrian ‘interrogation.’ 

So he resolved to wait, and had the drop-point restocked. 

Only the shinobi in charge of restocks would notice that Saizo added green mochi to the supply list for that checkpoint. 

- - - - - - - - - -

Kaze’s next report is a little late, but it comes nonetheless.

Again, it’s short and to-the-point. This time, it’s marked with a symbol on the top of the paper– the code the operatives use to indicate they are out of enemy territory and not under duress. It’s also not in code. 

Saizo reads it right away, and his eyes practically bulge from his head when he does. 

Reporting: Suzukaze. Returning to Shirasagi with lost Princess Kamui. ETA: three days.

Saizo looks at the date written at the top of the parchment. 

He drops the paper and sprints to find Mikoto. 

His brother would be here tomorrow– 

with the long lost princess, apparently. 

- - - - - - - - - -

The next morning, Saizo trades places with the ninja scheduled for gate guard duty. 

Even approaching from the distance on the horizon, Saizo recognizes his brother’s walk. There’s also a slender figure with silver hair accompanying Kaze.

Saizo can’t control his leg as it thumps like a rabbit, his foot tapping restlessly against the floor. He can’t abandon his post– so he forces himself to be content with observing his brother’s approach.

As they get closer, Saizo notices the weight Kaze has lost, and the tattered, frayed edges of his clothes. 

The second they cross the castle threshold, Saizo is there.

Kaze smiles. “Hello, brother.” 

Saizo hesitates. 

There he is– his brother, alive. Smiling like he has not a single care in the world. No: happy, even. 

Every nerve in his body wants to embrace him, to rush him off to a decent meal. Or, to scold him for being foolish, for his self-sacrificing attitude. Gods, if father could see him, he wouldn’t know whether to be more proud or angry. 

But protocol– protocol dictates that he be fully debriefed, give his full report before anything else. And then of course is the princess trailing just behind him, looking overwhelmed and confused, who needs escorting. It would be improper to discuss personal or even shinobi-related matters in front of her, and Kaze needs to continue walking her to Queen Mikoto, and…

Kaze sees the internal tug-of-war reflected in his brother’s eyes, and chuckles.

He hugs him. 

Saizo is stiff, his brain frozen.

It’s against protocol! It’s disrespectful! It’s– it’s…

Marcia stretched her arms out and twisted back and forth. Pretty soon, it would be time to break camp and head out. She was happy to get going. It sure beat waiting around for that golden army to attack.

She was doing her warmups, getting ready to go, but then she remembered that there was someone who might not be so ready on time. She picked up her bags, put them on her pegasus, and gave it a little kiss on the snout. Then she picked up her lance and went a few tents down, bouncing on every step. She saw Geoffrey who was taking down the men's tent, and Kieran who was supposed to be helping him but was talking loudly to Oscar, and even saw Danved, who was strapping on his armor and humming a wandery tune, but there was one male member of the Crimean Knights that was nowhere to be seen.

"Hey, Captain," she said. Geoffrey looked at her and she waved, coming over. "Seen that useless jelly brain anywhere?"

Geoffrey shook his head. "Not since yesterday evening. He didn't even come to the tent to sleep last night."

"Ugh, so he passed out somewhere." She looked around at the camp. Some of the tents were being taken down, but even so, it was an utterly sprawling encampment. A great place for a fainted idiot to disappear.

"Well, thanks anyway," she said. She walked off, swinging her lance. "Where'd you go, you doofus..."

"Excuse me," said someone. She looked up. It was that Gallian captain, Ranulf.

"Oh, hey," she said. "You need something?"

"No," he said. "But I thought I overheard you asking about your brother. Last time I saw him, he was over there amongst the supplies, looking- well, a bit odd."

"Rats, he's drunk," said Marcia. "Thanks, Mister, I'm going to go pound him." She hurried to the place he had indicated. There were lots of bags and crates there, and lots of people, too. She wandered about a bit, looking here and there but not seeing him. Wondering if a higher vantage point would help, she clambered onto a stack of wooden crates and stood up, looking out over the supplies and workers. There wasn't a sign of pink hair anywhere. She huffed and sat down. "Where are you, sponge brain..."

"M-Marcia?" came Makalov's voice from behind her.

She looked down the back of the crates. Makalov was sitting there in the shadows, looking up at her with guilty eyes.

"Busted," she growled, and dropped off the crates, landing on her feet next to him. "We are in the middle of a war here. A war that could change the whole world. Did'ja think about that at all before drinking yourself silly?"

"There's barely a drop in me, Marcia," said Makalov, "I swear." There were voices from the supply area, and he looked that way nervously.

"Well, what's got you all worked up, then?" Obviously he wasn't hiding from her, though he hadn't looked happy to see her, either.

"Are you hiding from Lucia?"

"Huh? No..."

"Geoffrey?"

He jumped. "Shh! Marcia, you don't know what a pickle I'm in. I can't let Geoffrey know, but- oh, I don't know what to do. I hate to lie to the guy, but..."

"Okay, so what pickle are you in? And more importantly, why were you dumb enough to get yourself into it?"

Makalov rubbed his hands against each other. "You don't understand, Marcia, this was a once in a lifetime opportunity. I had to."

"Okay, well, I'm sure Geoffrey won't mind. I mean, he'll mind, but he hasn't fired you yet, has he? Now hurry up and quit mopin'. Where's your horse?"

Makalov gave her a tragic look. "That's the problem, Marcia, I lost her. I lost Lightning. Geoffrey's going to kill me."

"Lost?" said Marcia. She looked around. "Well, there's still time to find her before we have to move, right? How could you lose a whole honkin' horse? They're kinda big, y'know."

"I know," he said, shaking his hands in agitation.

"Well it's no wonder you haven't found her if you've been sitting here this whole time." She hauled him up by the arm. "Come on."

"No, Marcia, I- I know where she is."

Marcia squinted at him. "Okay," she said, crossing her arms. "I don't get it."

He still looked rather upset, but was now nervously chuckling. "I know exactly where she is, too. It's just, ah. It's just, um..."

She took hold of the front of his armor. "Uh-huh?"

He let out another nervous chuckle. "I uh...well, like I said, who could pass a chance like that...I mean, that much money on the table..."

She released him and took a step back, looking at him with sharply narrowed eyes. "You...you bet her off?" His sheepish expression confirmed it. "You bet off Lightning!" She grabbed him and shook him. "That horse is probably the only reason you're even still in the army! And you bet it off! We are in a war! You are a paladin! You need Lightning!"

"Marcia, if we had that money, we could-"

"Don't lie to me! There is no 'we' where money is involved! You'd blow it in a week!"

"C'mon, you know I'd share..."

"It doesn't matter if you'd share or not, because you lost the bet, Makalov. No horse, no money, no nothing!" She released him. "I'm going to tell Geoffrey to beat you with a tent pole."

"No, please!" He clasped his hands together. "Don't tell him, Marcia! Pretty please!"

She put her hands on her hips. "You deserve everything you're going to get. I'm completely embarrassed to be related to you."

He leaned his head against the crate. "So you're going to tell him. He's gonna be furious. He's going to kill me, Marcia. You're right, that horse...I won't be the same without her. And she's practically a Ridell family heirloom. This'll get me kicked out of the knights for sure. And then what'll I do?"

Marcia wasn't sure Makalov could become anymore of a disgrace than he already was, but this could be an all time low. What would happen to him if he got fired? What about her? What would she do? She didn't want to have to quit and go after him.

She looked at Makalov, who looked back at her with pathetic eyes.

"Look, Marcia, I'm sorry, truly," he said. "But I can't get her back now."

Marcia let out a very loud, very long, sigh of frustration. "Well, maybe we can. Somehow. This guy who has the horse. If he was betting like you, he can't be that smart. Ugh," she groaned, "I can't believe I'm helping you." She wandered around in a circle, thinking. "Hmm. I know, we can scare him and say that Queen Elincia will come for him if he doesn't cooperate. Yeah, I like that!"

"Uh, Marcia?"

"What?"

"Well, um, the guy who has Lightning..."

"Yes?"

"It's, uh. It's King Kilvas."

"That greasy guy? Well, I bet he's still scared of Elincia."

"I bet he's not."

"Well, we've got a horse on the table," said Marcia, "So I better be right."

Makalov led her across the camp, ducking around and sneaking so badly that Geoffrey would have been less likely to notice him if he had been grandly strolling past his tent.

Marcia wasn't sure how likely she was to get that horse back, but she was prepared to try. They came around a tent.

"Look," said Makalov, pointing. Marcia saw he was pointing at Lightning, who was calmly eating grass.

King Naesala was calmly sitting on top of her.

He was scratching away in a little book, but looked up when they approached, Marcia in front and Makalov shuffling along behind her, his arm firmly stuck in her grasp.

Marcia gulped. This close, Naesala seemed very big. Especially since he was on a horse. But she wasn't going to give up yet. She cleared her throat. "Greetings, King Kilvas," she said, grandly waving a hand. "My name is Marcia, of the Crimean Royal Knights, and I- I- I have a request to make of you."

"He's not going to listen," said Makalov. Marcia glared at him, and then turned back to Naesala. "A request involving that fine steed on which you rest. Oh, great king." She curtsied.

Naesala raised his eyebrows. He slapped the little book shut. "If the request is that I return it to Sir Makalov, who is so bravely hiding behind you, then I'm not obligated to comply. You see, I won it from him in an honest game."

"Well- well," Marcia had completely forgotten the Elincia plan. "You're the raven king, so you probably cheated!"

Naesala smiled, raising his eyebrows even further. "Cheated? What an accusation. Care to produce evidence?" He looked at Makalov, who cringed, but stepped out enough from behind Marcia to say, "You- you had a sneaky look when you played those last rounds."

"I think it's called a poker face," said Naesala. "Well, if you don't have any solid evidence to produce, I guess you'll have to admit that this horse really is mine. That means it's mine to give as I please. And I don't."

"Okay, well, is there anything we can trade for it?" said Marcia.

Naesala smiled again, looking even more amused. "Not even a heron could trace your tactics, Lady Marcia. Why strain yourself so much on account of this fellow? Was this horse dear to you?"

"No, but he needs it!"

"If he really needed it, he wouldn't have played around with it. And if he did need it, the fact that he played anyway tells me he didn't deserve it. And before you ask again, I don't think there is anything you own that could pique my interest. Unless you happen to have antique paintings? Or perhaps two thousand pieces of gold?" He scoffed. "From what I can tell, all you have is stale rations and the armor on your back. Forget it."

"I told you this would happen," said Makalov hopelessly. Marcia watched him as he began walking away.

She turned back to Naesala. "Look, Mister- King Naesala. My brother is...he's...irresponsible. But if he tells his boss what happened, he could get fired, and I don't know what's going to happen then. If he goes away, I'll probably have to go, too, and I like my job. Could you please, please, please, please reconsider? I don't have a lot of money, but I'll give you everything I've got. I promise."

"Hmm," said Naesala. "I need you to sweeten the deal. Not just money. Give me something else. Something a little more interesting."

"Interesting? Uh...okay, um...I have, um...uh... Oh, come on, my brother is an idiot, but somewhere deep down, I think he wants to be a good guy. He's just stupid. Please, won't you change your mind?"

Naesala leaned closer to her. "Like I said. I'll give the horse back if you sweeten the deal. And I mean, seriously sweeten it. Don't you realize how much it's worth? I know, since you obviously can't repay me in money, I have a different offer, something I know you can give me."

Marcia scratched her nose. "What? I am not giving you my pegasus."

"Oh, no, I don't want you to. You'll need it."

"Well, now we're getting somewhere! What do you want me to get for you?"

Naesala blinked. "You."

"Wh- huh? Me?" Her expression was blank.

"Yes, you. Is that so strange? You're in the queen's royal guard, so obviously of some military quality, and you have a pegasus, so you could keep up with me and my people. Your brother's horse is worth more gold than you will be able to gather in twelve years. Is a few years of servitude under me so unfair?"

"Servitude! For my stupid brother!"

"Don't you care about him?" said Naesala. "It sounds like you don't."

"Well, I do, but..."

Naesala raised his eyebrows.

Marcia's jaw was tight, her feet nervously twitching. "I do, but that sounds terrible."

"Well, it's either three years in Kilvas or your brother loses everything. Your choice. That's my offer." He leaned back.

"Well, I- I'll..." She tapped her foot on the ground. "I can't watch over him if I do that...But..."

Naesala just watched her, smiling.

"Ugh," said Marcia. She held out her hand. "King Naesala, you are a nasty sleazeball, but I acc-"

"Nooooo!"

Makalov leapt in front of her before they could shake hands. "Marcia, no, don't do that! He's a monster!"

"I'm trying to help you, you bozo!"

Makalov looked at her. "Kilvas is a cold, dark, wasteland, and he lives in it! You can't go there, I won't let you! Listen to me!"

"Well, maybe I can do whatever I want! Besides, this is the only way."

He stared at her. "You would really do this, just for me and my old Lightning?"

"Yeah, now out of my way, cheese-fingers, before I change my mind."

Makalov kept staring at her, his gaze gradually growing in intensity. Unusually, it looked like thoughts were forming behind his brow. He pushed Marcia gently out of hand shaking reach, and then turned to Naesala.

"So Marcia is worth the same as the horse, huh?" he said.

Naesala shrugged. "No, but a good soldier complete with pegasus is the only thing she has to offer."

Makalov rubbed his hands together. "And you're set on this, Marcia?"

"Yep," said Marcia uncertainly.

Makalov gave her a hard look, a look that was uncharacteristically serious. "Are. You. Sure?" he said.

"Yes!"

"Okay," he said. "Well, I propose something then. I propose you and I have one more game, Mr. Naesala." He pulled a silver necklace out of his clothes. "If I win, I get to keep Marcia and the horse, and you get this necklace. If you win, you get the necklace and Marcia."

Naesala raised his eyebrows. "A necklace?"

"It's very expensive," said Makalov.

"I don't know," said Naesala. "Seems awfully advantageous for you and not really for me. Let me see that."

Makalov held the necklace out in the most alluring way he could. Naesala cocked his head back and forth, studying it.

"Hm," he said, leaning back. "I'd like to know where you stole that from. It must have cost a fortune originally."

"I didn't steal it," said Makalov. He puffed out his chest. "And I won't let you steal my sister."

"Makalov," Marcia hissed. "Astrid gave you that."

"You're worth more," he whispered back. He smiled sadly.

"Well, your offer is a bit feeble," said Naesala. "But I accept." He and Makalov shook on it.

"I can't believe you're betting with me like I'm money," said Marcia, as Naesala pulled up a low table. "This is so weird. This is a disaster."

"Well you were just going to give yourself away for nothing," said Makalov. "And you say I'm rash."

"I was giving myself away for you!" said Marcia, grabbing his arms. "Stop being dense!"

"Excuse me," said Naesala. They looked up at him. He waved the deck of cards. "A deal's a deal, Sir Makalov."

"Right," he said. He sat down on a small barrel, his expression steely. "You can't beat me, Naesala, I've got the power of passion on my side."

"Okay," Naesala said, his mouth curling into a tiny smile. "Hide it behind a good poker face and maybe you have a chance."

Marcia sat beside Makalov and watched the game. She watched as Makalov's brow got more and more wrinkled with consternation. This was one of the strangest things to ever happen to her. The raven king and her brother were playing cards for her? What had she been thinking? And Makalov always, always lost at gambling.

She sighed through her nose and kept watching. Naesala's poker face was the same as his normal face. Makalov's was screwed up with concentration when it was Naesala's turn, but completely changed when it was his. He wiped his face blank and stared as steadily as he could into Naesala's eyes as he took his card. Marcia couldn't tell what he was thinking. She almost wondered if he had a chance.

At last, after watching a dull, anxiety filled game of cards, during which a small audience had gathered, and Marcia was regretting her offer more and more, the final play came. Makalov inhaled deeply, then lay his hand down. The numbers on his cards were low, a good thing. Marcia looked nervously up at Naesala, daring to hope her brother could win. Naesala gave a small smile, and lay his own hand down.

"Well done," he said.

He had lost.

Makalov and Marcia screamed, and hugged each other. "You did it!" Marcia shrieked, bouncing. "You actually won! I don't believe it!"

Makalov laughed hysterically and picked her up off her feet. "We're free! We're free! We're freeee!"

They both scream laughed and jumped up and down, shouting in celebration. After a few minutes they stopped. Makalov patted Marcia on the head. "Thanks, sis. I owe you one-hundred."

"You better believe it," said Marcia, punching him in the arm. "Now get your horse and let's get going, we've got some ridin' to do."

Makalov took Lightning's reins and turned to Naesala. He handed him the necklace. "Good game, Your Majesty." He gave him a toothy grin.

"Good game yourself. Don't you have some knights to get back to?"

"Yep. Come on, Marcia." Marcia linked arms with him and they went off with the horse, giggling and arguing.

Naesala sat on his stool and watched them leave. Leanne, who had been one of the observers, came and stood beside him.

"He was pretty lucky to be able to win against you," she said.

Next to her, Severa gasps. “Is that-?!”

“Cover me!” Lucina shouts, and she fights her way through the group of Risen occupying the room, with her friends making sure she isn’t attacked from behind. 

She ends up only a few feet away from the bottom of the stairs, Falchion severing a Risen’s head from its body when she looks up frantically at the boy.

Nine, covered in leaves and dirt, trudging mud into the study, a worm wiggling in his hands. “I found a worm Luci! I- hey, why are you hiding behind Father?”

Thirteen, face smudged with soot, smelling of smoke and firewood. “Hey Luci, hypothetically speaking, how mad would you be if I accidentally set all the training dummies on fire?”

Fifteen, eyes sullen, a faraway look in his eyes, on their mother’s birthday. “Lucina do you think… is it possible she might be-”

“...They’re gone, Morgan.”

“Morgan!?”

At the shout of the name, Morgan turns his head to look at her, his face twisting into confusion when they lock eyes.

He looks just like how she remembers him.

A mix of emotions fills her. Relief, that he’s alive, then anger. Anger that he disappeared without a goodbye, that he never once let her know, in the years he was gone, that he was still alive.

Then the realization that he’s fighting off a Risen general by himself hits her.

Idiot!

“You-” She starts, but she’s cut off when the Risen General roars behind Morgan. Three more Risen stand in Lucina’s way, and she glances behind herself. Her friends have picked off the rest of the Risen, and they continue to make quick work of the remaining three.

She hears Morgan yell out two spells in succession, and a flash of lightning followed by an explosion reverberates throughout the chamber. She looks up in time to see Morgan thrown back by the explosion, and Lucina dashes forward, dropping Falchion as she rushes up the stairs. She manages to catch Morgan halfway, and they’re sent flying, tumbling down the staircase.

Her body aches from the fall, and she manages to catch her breath. Gerome helps her stand up, handing Falchion to her, which she takes.

“Is everyone okay?” Lucina asks, and they all answer varying degrees of ‘yes’. She wipes the blood on Falchion with her cape and sheathes the sword. “Morgan?” she reaches a hand out, and he stares at her, brow furrowed, before deciding to accept her hand, helping him onto his feet.

“I’m okay. Err… thanks,” he says awkwardly.

“Morgan, how did you get here?” she asks, “You disappeared and I thought-” I thought you were dead. She bites back the words. “Where have you been?”

“I-” Morgan hesitates, “Sorry I don’t- Who are you?”

Lucina stares at him in disbelief. “Morgan if this is your way of joking-”

“I’m sorry, I really don’t know who any of you are.” Morgan shakes his head. “I woke up… sprawled in a field, and wandered here. I can’t recall anything before that. The only memories I have are of my mother.”

Lucina feels her blood run cold. She wishes this was a cruel joke. Morgan had disappeared nearly half a year before Lucina and their friends had traveled to the past, making it almost three years since she’s last seen him.

But she knows Morgan. Knows that he wouldn’t play such a cruel joke on her and that his words and expressions are honest, not displaying a hint of malice or trickery.

What other choice does she have but to believe him?

“So you know who Robin is?”

“Yes, I know her! She’s my mother!” he smiles, and Lucina’s heart aches.

“Morgan- this may be hard to believe, but I need you to stay calm and listen to me.” there isn’t a delicate way for her to tell him when he seems to have amnesia, so she decides to be blunt. “I’m your older sister, Lucina, and our mother is Robin. Like me and our friends here, you come from the future.”

“...What?! But I... The future?!” he stares at her in bewilderment, “Is... Is that why I have no memory? But wait, I remember Mother. So why don't I remember you?” 

“I wish I knew the answer to that.” she says, “Do you remember our father, Chrom?”

“No, nothing like that.”

“Well… at least you remember Mother.” she sighs, “Maybe you’ll remember something when you meet her and Father. You should come with us till then. I don’t want you pulling another stunt like you just did with that Risen general.”

“You do.” With the mask on, he looks just as Lucina did when she disguised herself under the alias ‘Marth’. Of course, Morgan doesn’t know about ‘Marth’, and has never gotten the chance to meet him. If he had, he would have known instantly that it was her, and probably have teased her for it. “Did… Gerome tell you why he had that mask?”

“No, I just assumed it was an extra he had lying around and never used,” Morgan says with a shrug, taking off the mask. “But you know… I think this mask would look good on you.”

“...Me?”

“Yeah.” Morgan nods his head enthusiastically. “I bet you would look really cool if you wore it!” he shoves the mask in front of her face, and she leans back, lest he somehow pokes her eyes out with it. “Try it on!”

“I-”

“Come on Luci! Pleaseeeeeee?” he pleads, and Lucina relents. She puts it on at his insistence. It’s… strange, how familiar and comforting it feels to be wearing it again.

“Wow!! Lucina, you look so cool with the mask on!” Morgan exclaims, “I bet if you wore this all the time you’d be super popular!”

“I… do not want that to happen,” she’s lucky that when she first wore it, people left her alone. She wouldn’t be able to handle it if she had a gaggle of admirers following after her like she heard happened to Gerome some time ago. She takes off the mask and hands it back to Morgan.

“Oh, by the way, Mother told me about ‘Marth’.”

“Ah… did she…?”

Morgan laughs at her sudden awkwardness. “Who knew you’d become a masked hero like in the books we read as kids?”

“Well, it had been a last-minute decision,” Lucina huffs, a little embarrassed. 

“I think it’s pretty cool that you did that though. But then again, everything you do is cool.”

“Now you’re just saying that.” Lucina shakes her head, “But… thank you. What do you plan on doing with the mask?”

“I think I’ll wear it around for funsies.” Morgan grins, “See if anyone recognizes me or mistakes me for you. Or better yet-“ he puts the mask back on, and picks up Falchion from where it’s propped against the desk “See what I can get away with doing.” he swings the sword, knocking over a stack of books in the process, and Lucina sighs.

The quiet of the palace at night always made him uneasy as a child, and being older (fourteen) didn’t change that. He’s used to the noise and chaoticness that came with maneuvering through the halls and weaving in between staff and nobles during the day.

At night, it always felt like there was something lurking in every shadow, waiting for the opportune moment to strike him.

He stops in front of Lucina’s room and knocks on the door. He hears the shuffling of papers and the scrape of a chair. Lucina opens the door, and there isn’t a hint of surprise on her face when she sees him.

“I wondered who would be knocking at my door so late at night.” she says, “Is something wrong?”

"Can I sleep in your room?"

"Morgan, you're not a child." is what she says, but she lets him in anyways. Morgan throws himself onto her bed, kicking his slippers off in the process, and proceeds to bury himself under the heavy winter blankets.

“You’re not sleeping?” he asks, when she goes to her desk instead of coming to the bed.

“I need to make some revisions to a couple of documents first.”

“It’s bedtime,” he says with a frown. “Do you need those done before the morning meeting?”

“Hm, I need them done before the end of the week.” Lucina muses, “It’s always better to get them done early and out of the way.”

“What a workaholic,” Morgan complains, and tosses a pillow at her, hitting his sister in the face. “I’m telling Aunt Lissa and Aunt Maribelle that you were up working all night again.” he threatens, and Lucina winces.

“Don’t- do that. They already have enough to worry about.” Morgan glares at her, and she sighs, relenting. She blows out the candles on the desk, and the room is engulfed in darkness, save for the moonlight coming from the windows and balcony doors. Lucina shuffles to the other side of the bed, and slides under the blankets.

Morgan grins, “Goodnight Luci!”