Comms and Other Long FE Oneshots

The Worst Enemy

*AKA hurting my son. :( For the Autumn Prompttest.

Another day, another week

Everything was fresh and clean when you had no memory. Lucy had been right to envy him.

Another month, another year

Gods it all hurt now. The darkness just... rising and rising and refusing to leave. The hopelessness overwhelming enough that he realized that nothing was bright anymore. Soren's bitterness made so much sense where at first it hadn't, Lucina's stern demeanor and desperation to make sure things changed for the better no matter the cost did as well.

Another day, another night, until it's day again

"Morgan."

He sighed, opening his eyes to give Nah a small smile. "Hey, love," he replied, voice rough from the fever and the memories... gods, the memories. The fever was almost a mercy.

The sun is fled

She set the tray down on the bed, and he blinked at it tiredly, seeing the bowl of soup, the bread, the steaming cup of tea. "Are you feeling any better?" she asked worriedly, moving to make sure the blankets were still draped over his shoulders, the concern in her large violet eyes wavering with the candlelight. "You seem distracted, and I know you haven't really been sleeping."

I go to bed,

"There's a song stuck in my head," he replied, pinching the bridge of his nose. He couldn't smell the soup. It looked like pumpkin stew, though. Heh. It was the season for such things, wasn't it? "M...Mother used to sing it all the time."

And scratch a line on the wall.

"I... I know you don't want to talk about it," Nah sighed, looking down so her blond bangs hid her eyes. "But your memory returning is affecting you really, really badly. I can... guess what happened in your past. You know I don't think any less of you for it, right?"

Another day where nothing changes at all.

"Right," he mumbled. It was cold in the stone room. Why did autumn have to be so cold, yet not enough to freeze people? It was just like the past. The past he wished had stayed forgotten. "You don't think any less of me trying to kill you and actually killing millions."

"Morgan-"

And every day shuffles on like the day before,

"You can't wash this much blood away." He turned away from her, bringing the blanket closer, dark eyes growing wider and wilder. "Yes, she raised me to be her little servant. You could claim I didn't know any better."

On it's way to the blackest of skies

"That doesn't change how many people died, Nah. That doesn't change the razed lands, the ever-present chill in the air, and the oppressive atmosphere. That doesn't change the fact that the Risen were commanded by me." It didn't change the fact that he had once lived to hear the sound of Grima's cry. It didn't change what he'd allowed his mother to become in his youth. What he'd allowed to happen.

And everyday, a little death comes and paces the floor, and a little bit more of me dies.

"Morgan, you can't erase the past," she whispered as a choked sob escaped him. The bed creaked under what little weight she had, and her warm arms wrapped around him. "You know that. But we can live for the future, and we do, remember? That's the point of living. It doesn't matter what you did, you're different now."

"Am I, though?" he asked hoarsely, tears falling down his cheeks, he could feel them and he... he knew that his mother would slap them off of his face rather than wipe them away. She's not my mother. "If I have his memories, aren't I him?"

"No. You're Morgan. My Morgan. The generous fool I fell in love with. Not a servant of Grima," she replied gently. "I'll say it as many times as I need to in order to keep you here with me instead of losing you to him."

Morgan closed his eyes, taking her words. Using them to quiet the darkness of the memories. "How do you stand them?" he asked hoarsely. "How do you quiet them without wanting to rampage on everything and everyone that can and did hurt you?"

"They're only memories, Morgan," Nah replied. "And memories are only supposed to hurt you. Not everyone else."

He sniffed softly, opening his eyes to see her face just above his. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Then don't," Nah replied simply.

"I almost did once," he replied hoarsely.

"But you didn't." She kissed his temple gently. "And that's all that matters." 

He gave a soft, shuddering sigh, settling into the bed, turning to face her and her worried face. "I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to keep rescuing me from myself like this."

"You rescued me from myself more times than I can count," she replied gently, and he could see the truth in her large violet eyes. The truth. The pain. "I'll return the favor as many times as I need to. Do you want to eat?"

"...I should eat," he admitted softly, stirring. She got off of him, and he managed to sit up, rubbing his temple-not the one she'd kissed. She bent down, picking the tray up off of the floor and setting it on the bed once again. He picked up the tea first, just letting it warm his cold hands. He could smell the apple-cinnamon blend now. "My face is probably a mess, isn't it?"

"Oh, it's totally a mess," Nah replied, her smile gaining an amused edge, and just like that the tension in the air was eased. "I'll go get a handkerchief." She headed out, and Morgan watched her go with a soft sigh before sipping at the tea. Using it to stay distracted from the feeling of dead flesh on his hands. The sight of four girls fleeing from an army of Risen. That blasted suspension bridge.

He could do this. The memories didn't matter. He just had to take it all one day at a time.