Scripted Fates

Chapter One

    The world slowly swept around his senses like a ribbon of Nohrian silk. It was cool enough to be soothing tonight, the full moon giving the leaves of the trees surrounding the clearing a silver tinge. It gave everything a silver tinge except for the slowly dying fire that was surrounded by four people.

Only one of those people was awake, and his dark brown eyes were studying Odin. Odin swallowed. He knew those eyes all too well. The tousled obsidian hair that was highlighted silver by the moon was unfamiliar, as was his face, which spoke of shadows and storms he had been dragged through and had conquered with his own two hands. The callouses on those large hands told Odin that he was accustomed to using that gleaming steel sword by his side, which was also unfamiliar.

Every bit of softness and childish innocence had been slimmed away from this man. However, there was still kindness in those eyes he knew, along with the constant gleam of calculation that he hadn't been able to recognize at first. Those eyes had shadows and storms, had seen things that hers never had, but they were still the same...

And so was the coat. The ankle-length black coat with the purple interior, golden lining and clasps that Odin had seen swirling in the heat of battle thousands of times. The six eyes of Grima were still the prominent mark, and the largest, red one that ran the length of the back crinkled as the man stood, brushing himself off. "Morgan," Odin whispered.

Morgan smiled, and Odin's last doubts about his identity vanished. It may have been a different face with far less innocence, but that brilliant, easy smile was still the same. "Odin," he greeted him at equal volume, then held up a hand when Odin opened his mouth in shock, casually gesturing toward his companions.

The one in the pale green cloak was stirring, hence Morgan's motion that Odin remain quiet. Odin looked closer at the other two, and started slightly when he recognized the red coat, tiny body, and braided hair peeking out of Nah's hood. The Nah he knew had orange hair, and this one had blonde, but it was unmistakably her. The other man he didn't know, but he rather reminded him of Uncle Chrom. He was bulkier, with shorter, spikier blue hair that a red band was tied around, and his clothes were far dirtier than Frederick and Aunt Sumia would ever allow Uncle Chrom's to be. His cape was red, and longer, and he had no Brand that Odin could see, but the man somehow reminded him of Uncle Chrom all the same.

The third figure was sitting up now, long black hair falling around him like a second cloak when his hood slipped off, large red eyes already wide awake and aware. Odin blinked, startled once again. This man had the same childish facial features as Nah, but the gleam in his eyes and the hard set of his expression made him seem far older. A red Brand marked his forehead, a vertical line struck through a tilted S shape, between the shorter swaths of dark hair that were partially hiding his face.

Doesn't having your bangs so long bother you? They're almost in your eyes!

Not all of us are as confident in our appearance as you are, Cynthia. The braids keep my hair from being a nuisance in battle, and that's all I need.

...But you're really pretty, Nah...

"There's a magical disturbance. Can you feel it?" The man asked Morgan, his eyes narrowing.

"Yep. I have an idea of how to take care of it, though. It's not dangerous." Morgan bent down, picking up his sword. "Could I trouble you to keep watch for me, Soren?"

Soren gave a curt nod to Morgan's request, and the latter turned on his heel and strode away from the dead fire, into the darkness of the woods. Odin hurried after him. "He couldn't see me?" he asked after they'd been walking for a minute.

"Apparently this is a cousin-to-cousin chat... even if you're not my cousin." Morgan flashed him another smile over his shoulder, a gleaming bit of white in the shadows. "You must be shocked."

"The tongue of darkness can be stilled for the utter oddness of this situation," Odin replied with a grimace, running a hand through his spiky blond hair. "The demoness I thought to take as my partner for the eternities before realizing that my affections most certainly weren't reciprocated is walking before me and is rather decidedly male, knows the name of my fell form, and is also my cousin? Do you know why I left Ylisse as well?"

"Bits and pieces," Morgan replied offhandedly. Yep. Definitely Morgan. "Though I'd rather not discuss what exactly I know since disintegration is an issue." He stopped, turning to face Odin, who also paused. Light actually filtered through the trees here, though it was nowhere near as well lit as that clearing had been. "Okay, I think that we're far enough away to be able to talk normally without giving Soren further proof that I am verifiably insane."

"Further proof? I'm scared to ask."

Morgan arched an eyebrow. "You really are shocked about this situation, aren't you? Odin Dark, sorcerer of sorcerers, scared of a tale of insanity?"

Odin paused at this, looking over Morgan again, his protest that the man really should be shocked as well at this conversation dying on his tongue. He wouldn't get anywhere by arguing with him, and he was agreeable enough. "You know I'm a sorcerer."

Morgan stepped closer, carefully poking his bare stomach before drawing away with a grimace. "Only they show this much stomach muscle in public. Geez, but you're cold." Odin flushed. "And dang. Are those extremely short pants or smallclothes on your legs?"

"Okay, okay! Point taken. The Morgan I knew wasn't quite this observant." She had been diehard oblivious when she wasn't being diabolical, actually. Odin frowned at the man in front of him. "And you're claiming to be Chrom's son. How are you more observant than Cordelia's daughter?"

"My mother's genius more than makes up for my father's density. Obviously." Morgan smirked before his expression softened and he took a step back. "To be fair, I do know quite a bit about Hoshido and Nohr. Enough to know that dark magi from Nohr wear orange robe-things with yellow shoulder armor and black undergarments."

"So... you've had visions?" Odin guessed.

Morgan shifted uncomfortably at those words. "That, uh, jewel you wear on your forehead isn't part of the uniform." His voice had grown quieter. "Where did you get it?"

Odin reached up to touch the pale blue stone in question. "It was a gift from a dragon that I'm pretty sure you've somehow met." He stared when Morgan shifted uncomfortably again, his hand moving to where Odin knew a tome was concealed in an inner pocket of his coat. "So... you know. You know where your cousin, Severa, and the Inigo of your world went."

He paused. "Yes. Naga..." He shook his head, looking up at Odin again with a pained expression. "I haven't met him. I just knew that he needed help and that was what you three- I mean... what my friends would end up being. His help. Which means that you'd be helping and relying on the someone he wanted you to protect. I didn't like that idea, and neither did Nah, but..."

We would have gone anyways. That sentence lay unspoken between them, heavy and horribly true. As much as Odin spouted about being fate's accomplice, he still had that overwhelming desire from his days as Owain to change it. "Rely on Princess Kamui?" he asked, knowing that they were supposed to help her, despite everything. He had succeeded with that one. "How so?"