The Hurt Reality (Fire Emblem: Awakening Story)

This Is Oh... So Close!

Maelys's POV.

A swirled dreamy view focuses on a young man with blue hair wearing a familiar elaborately designed cloak of purple, blue, and black materials. He sits crossed-legged in the middle of an all white room, his head buried in his hands, his expression unseen and hidden from sight.

The hands dig into his hair, a clear sign of frustration and he lifts his head ever so slightly, just enough for visable lip movement. Suddenly his voice is heard, and it's desperate, afraid and angry.

"We could have helped you.. I could have helped you. Why wouldn't you trust us?" He asks, it's quiet though - barely above a whisper.

"You thought you were protecting us, right?"

Pause.

"You made it worse. You turned into exactly what you were running from! You still did what you set out not to do.." The boy seems to be talking to himself, or to someone invisible. He continues to speak in accusing tones.

"Leaving didn't change a single thing!"

"You ran away. You weren't strong enough without us. You could have stopped this!" His voice gets louder to the point of yelling.

"You KILLED father!" The boy jumps to his feet, his hands clasped tightly over his ears, "You tried to do this all yourself but you failed! You ruined us, mother. You will ruin us again!"

"Why did you leave?!"

My eyes fly open to the dark tent, sweat runs down my forehead and into my already dirty hair.

I'm trembling with emotion so badly that I can feel a dull stressed ache in my side. I blow out to calm myself and to try and rid my body of the tingling feeling from coming back from the nightmare.

Obviously the boy was Morgan, and obviously it was a dream.. Yet Gods, it felt so real. As if he was standing right here, in this very tent, yelling at me, accusing me of things I never knew I had done. Talking about events the future me must have orchestrated.

He told me everything I had done to wrong him, my precious child.

I fling the simple cloth blanket off of me and crawl to the tent opening, craving the cool night air to freeze the sweat off of my overheated body and to clear my head.

It irritated me how weak I'd become, I can remember a time where the nightmares weren't anything but dreams, when I could handle any situation with poise and graceful dignity. Now I was terribly helpless, or at least I felt like it. Crippled by unneeded emotions. I was not myself.

I make it just far out enough so that I can sit down in the dewy wet grass, I then wipe the oil out of my eyes and rub my cheeks in a symbolic way to rid the sleep away - To try and force it all as a dream that would mean nothing in a couple of minutes.