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keith_ltd2022-03-23 10:12 am
runawayballista) wrote in keith_ltd2022-03-23 10:12 am
Entry tags:
A Rogue Friend Is a Wild Beast: Light to Tomorrow
Fandom: Fire Emblem Awakening
Title: A Rogue Friend Is a Wild Beast: Light to Tomorrow ♪🎵♪
Summary: When Cynthia forgets her lines on the battlefield and starts to lose her nerve, Morgan tries to come up with a solution to get Cynthia her groove back.
Notes: a few more flashbacks lined up! here's a cute little cynthia interlude because this fic started out as my little morgan/owain treat and is slowly growing into my boy morgan shipping manifesto
※ Each story is titled after a song from another Fire Emblem game, with a link to the track. Highly recommend listening to the music while you read for the Maximum Experience
AO3 mirror
He was floating on his back. It was dark, pitch black, such that there did not seem to be any difference as to whether his eyes were closed or not. He could not even be sure he was really opening them at all.
He was floating in a pool of water, so close to his body temperature that he had scarcely noticed it, until he stirred his arms and legs and felt the little ripples lap against his skin. His limbs felt heavy. There was no sound here, save for his shallow breathing and the gentle slosh of water. He hardly had to do anything to stay afloat. He wasn’t sure how deep the pool was.
He gradually became aware that he was slowly sinking under. No—he wasn’t sinking, but rather the water was rising up around him, curling around his midsection and over his shoulders like great, tepid arms pulling him into a deep embrace. The water rose up around his face, the gentle lap like a hand against his cheek. He opened his mouth, feeling the air recede from his face. He still couldn’t open his eyes. The water filled his ears, and all sound fell away, the only sensation now the ghostly touch of water against his skin.
Morgan awoke with a dry mouth and a headache, his ears feeling oddly stopped up. He thought at first he might be getting sick, but he didn’t feel feverish or achy, just sluggish and tired despite having dutifully gone to bed at a reasonable hour on Lucina’s insistence. Maybe he had allergies? It was entirely possible. He’d have to do some tidying up in his room later. He felt a little better after washing his face in cold water, but the fog persisted.
It had been a few months now since his new friends had first brought him to Ylisstol, and he was settling in nicely. Most mornings he awoke to find himself full of energy and ready to take on the day, but every once in a while he’d have a morning like this. Maybe he’d had a bad dream, although he didn’t think bad dreams were supposed to make you feel like this. He never remembered his dreams, at any rate.
Dawn was still slowly pulling back the curtains on morning when he ventured outside the castle. Maybe a walk and some fresh air would do him some good. Other than the scattered shouts from the early birds in the training yard, the castle grounds were still quiet. The day was a touch overcast, and there was a perpetually somber mood that hung over the capital, but it didn’t bother Morgan too much. He found early mornings like this peaceful.
He made for the royal gardens, which were even more overgrown than most parts of the castle grounds, but that was what Morgan liked about it. Sure, the reason wasn’t a happy one, but it fascinated him how quickly nature could reclaim a place, how weeds and little wild things grew in the spaces between, introducing colors and patterns never seen there before. There were countless flowers whose names he didn’t even know, little bundles of weeds and clover springing up in the tall grass. He’d even found a couple of brightly patterned bugs he’d never seen on the castle grounds before.
So many people seemed so worried that the world would never heal after Grima, but to Morgan, this little microcosm of regrowth was proof enough for him that it would. Certainly things would not simply revert to their original state—even this royal garden, a part of nature they had more control over than most, would never return to the way it had been before the cataclysm. But new things would always grow in those spaces, if people only let them. Tomorrow would never hold the same shape as yesterday.
He had a book tucked under his arm and a canteen strap hanging from his wrist. There was a mostly-intact bench tucked behind a hedge somewhere around here that made for an excellent reading spot, and he was finally getting to that novel he’d found in his bag.
A familiar voice carried on the wind to him, and he followed its source curiously.
“Hff, okay. One more time. Heed me, O righteous ones, for I, gruesome hero—gah!” A little wail sounded next. “Come on, Cynthia, get it together!”
Morgan rounded a corner to see Cynthia looking unusually dispirited, gently knocking her head against a moss-covered stone wall. She didn’t seem to notice him until he placed his hand over the stone wall and her forehead smacked into his palm instead. She blinked and looked up in bewilderment and dismay.
“Careful, now. You’re gonna lose some brain cells if you keep that up. And I’d know a thing or two about that!” Morgan pulled his hand away from the wall with a cheerful wave. “Morning, Cynthia. I didn’t expect to see you again so soon. I thought you weren’t due back until tomorrow.” He stopped and frowned. Cynthia seemed really out of sorts. “Or…did something go wrong?”
“Hi, Morgan,” Cynthia sighed, with none of her usual pep. “No, it went—fine, actually, for once, we just happened to make double time on our way back, but…augh.” She covered her face with her hands. “I totally blew it, Morgan! I made a total fool of myself, and now it’s like I can’t stop!”
“Whoa, whoa,” Morgan said with a little frown, and he set his book and canteen down so he could brace his hands on her shoulders. “What are you talking about? ’Cause the Cynthia I know is pretty much the coolest champion of justice out there.”
“My lines, Morgan!” Cynthia wailed into her hands. “I forgot my lines! On our way into the first battle, I—I don’t know, I must have choked or something, but I tripped right over the words and totally fumbled my opening line!”
Morgan frowned a little. “I mean…everyone flubs sometimes, don’t they? I don’t think it’s something to be that embarrassed about.”
“It’s not that I’m embarrassed,” Cynthia said, looking anguished. “The problem is that it completely threw me off! Now I can’t get any of my battle lines out without messing them up! I sounded so ridiculous, but then I was starting every fight on the wrong foot—I can’t focus in battle, and I’m tripping over other people on the battlefield—I’m just getting in the way!”
Morgan took all of this in with a sympathetic purse of his lips. “That sounds pretty rough,” he admitted. “Have you tried maybe going into battle without trying any lines? You know, just focusing on the fight. Maybe it’ll help you find your center again, and then bam! Back to normal.”
Cynthia looked at him with the kind of bewildered dejection that one usually reserves for a sudden summons to the gallows. “No way! Every hero needs her battle lines, it’s—it’s a crucial part of the package!”
Morgan accepted this without protest, falling deeper into thought. “Mmm, okay…well, what about practicing in the mirror? Have you tried that?”
“Of course I practice in the mirror! Every morning, first thing!” Cynthia’s shoulders went slack. “But as soon as I’m out on the battlefield, it’s like my tongue’s tied in knots. At this rate, I’m gonna lose my edge…”
Morgan bowed his head and tightened his hands over her shoulders with a deep breath. Then he looked her in the eye and said, “Alright. Let’s see what we can do. I’m not letting my knight in shining armor lose her nerve over a few fumbled lines!”
Cynthia blinked at him, her mouth falling open. “Your…knight in shining armor?”
“Well, yeah!” Morgan beamed at her. “You swooped in and saved my skin the very first day we met—and I don’t even know how many times since! I’d probably be dead five times over if it weren’t for you. So it’s the least I can do to help you get over your sudden case of stage fright!”
“Morgan…” Cynthia felt something swell in her chest. Sure, she’d always considered herself a hero, here to help out the little people and save the world, but none of her friends had ever really lauded her as such to her face before. She drew in a breath and gave him a decisive nod. “Alright! Let’s do this. What did you have in mind?”
“Hmm…” Morgan had forgotten all about his book at this point. A much more interesting distraction had presented itself. “Well, if you’re doing just fine with the mirror, then maybe you just need to start yourself with a small audience and work your way up from there. Then you’ll be back to your old catch-phrase flinging self, piece of cake!”
“Really? You’d do that for me?” Cynthia’s eyes shone with new hope, and she flung her arms around Morgan in a hug. “Thank you, Morgan! You’re the best!”
Morgan let out an easy laugh, returning the hug. “Aw, I’m hardly doing anything at all. You’re the one who’s gonna be putting in the work!”
“No, really.” Cynthia pulled back and smiled earnestly at him, and he seemed to reflect it back like a mirror with his own. “Inigo really doesn’t get the hero stuff, and Owain—well, his advice usually isn’t all that helpful. Or…sensical at all. But you always have the best ideas! And you never laugh at any of my lines!”
“Why would I laugh? I think they’re pretty cool,” Morgan said. “Sure, sometimes they need a little workshopping at first, but the lines you bust out on the battlefield really get you pumped!”
“See? This is what I’m talking about! I’m so glad I ran into you.” Cynthia straightened up, buoyed by hope and resolve. “So! Where do we start? And when?”
“Well, right now’s fine by me. And this seems like as good a place as any.” There’d likely be no one else around, so Cynthia wouldn’t have to worry about unaccounted for audience members. “Hmm. Okay, just pretend I’m a Risen soldier. Give me your best killing blow line! Really let me have it!”
“What?” Cynthia’s face fell. “I can’t kill you, Morgan! Can’t you be my boon companion instead? You know, for moral support.”
“I don’t see why not.” Morgan studied the overgrown topiary, then pointed to one just off to the left. It had been a bear once—or maybe an elephant? A man charging on all fours? It was honestly hard to tell. “Okay, if we need a Risen stand-in, we can use that guy. But for now…I guess it’s better to start with your opening lines and go from there, huh? Alright—show me a classic Cynthia entrance!”
She tripped on the first try, faceplanting into a flower bed gone rogue. Not to be deterred, she jumped back to her feet, blowing a loose strand of hair from her forehead.
“Okay, take two!” Cynthia assumed her hero stance, ready to launch herself into action. “Cynthia, justice of champion—augh!” She stopped mid-leap and covered her face with her hands. “I can’t even make it two words in!”
Morgan studied her for a moment, rubbing his chin. “Why don’t you try saying it more slowly? Don’t worry about the delivery. Just focus on the words. Think of it like building muscle memory!”
“Hey, good idea!” Cynthia brightened, then tried just repeating her line, no flair added. “Cynthia, champion of justice, reporting for—for—” She floundered and choked, and let out a frustrated noise, but Morgan was flashing her an energetic thumbs up.
“Hey, that was already a lot better! Come on, let’s keep going. I think this is really working!”
He turned out to be right. They met every morning in the early hours just after dawn, and Cynthia had to admit, it was a pretty energizing way to start the day, if a little frustrating sometimes. Morgan was never anything less than encouraging, cheering her on all the way, and little by little, she was regaining her confidence. Just having Morgan there helped, even when he wasn’t giving her pointers on delivery. And after a week of intensive mental training, Cynthia was starting to feel more like herself.
“I think I’m ready,” she said after they concluded for the morning. They’d done a fair bit of jumping around—Morgan was helping her with the blocking for a new entrance—and she was sweaty all over, but she felt exhilarated. “Next time I ride into battle, I’m totally using that divine retribution line!”
“Heck yeah!” Morgan high fived her with gusto, although the shock of her gauntlet left him wincing for a second. “That’s the spirit. Look out, world! Cynthia’s making her comeback!”
It was only a day before Cynthia was called into battle again, and Morgan found himself anxiously awaiting her return, taking to pacing the royal gardens once his responsibilities for the day were over. They’d agreed to meet here after she returned, and Morgan couldn’t wait to hear her report.
It was a little after sundown when Cynthia came into view rounding a corner. Morgan jumped up from the bench, snapping his book shut.
“So? How’d it go?”
Cynthia buried her face in her hands and let out a muffled scream. Morgan winced.
“I totally blew it! Again!” Cynthia sounded more crushed than ever before. “As soon as I arrived on the scene, I completely choked. I was so off balance, I nearly crashed right into Gerome and Minerva!”
Morgan’s face fell as Cynthia dropped herself onto the bench, “Wait, my technique didn’t work? It really seemed to be helping in our sessions…”
“It’s not even that.” Cynthia lifted her face from her hands, looking miserable and a little embarrassed. “It’s just—I got so used to practicing with you, and having you around, and…and now it’s like I can’t manage to get any of it out without you there.”
Morgan winced, looking rueful. “That…is a problem. I’m sorry, Cynthia. I didn’t mean to make things worse. That definitely wasn’t an outcome I anticipated…” He sighed, sitting down on the bench next to her. Cynthia shook her head determinedly.
“No! You didn’t make anything worse! It’s definitely helped—I can feel it on the tip of my tongue, I just…can’t quite get it out. It feels like something’s missing, and—and I lose my nerve every time.”
“But I can’t exactly guarantee I’ll be able to be with you in every fight,” Morgan admitted. Cynthia slumped on the bench next to him. She looked really dispirited now.
“Of course. I have to be able to fight on my own. But now…I don’t know. I feel like I’m losing what makes me me. I mean, if I can’t even manage a couple of lousy battle lines, can I really call myself a champion of justice?”
Morgan looked her over with earnest eyes, his expression unusually serious. Then he smiled a little and puffed out a laugh. “Don’t be silly. You can’t lose that.”
Cynthia groaned. Morgan picked up one of her hands and waved it in front of her face. “I mean it! Everything that makes you the person you are, that’s all on the inside. You’re already a hero, no lines or dramatic entrances needed—even if they are pretty cool. As far as I’m concerned, you’re the total package all by yourself!” His little smile split into a grin, and he bumped his shoulder against hers. “After all, you’re my knight in shining armor, right?”
“Morgan…” Cynthia felt her lower lip tremble just a little. She wasn’t about to start crying, not when he was trying so hard to cheer her up, but…he could just be really sweet when you needed it the most, that was all, and it made her want to wrap him in a crushing hug. Every time he said those words—knight in shining armor—it was like she could feel her spirit being bolstered, and she didn’t have gratitude lines prepared for anything like that. He smiled and patted her shoulder.
“Just give me a little time. I’ll come up with something. In the meantime…I’m cheering you on, okay?”
Cynthia kept on practicing her lines in the mirror as dutifully as ever, but she volunteered for mess duty for the next three mornings in a row, which earned her some funny looks, but more than a few grateful ones, too. Kjelle was slotted in for breakfast tomorrow, but if Cynthia was in the kitchen, it might be a little less lethal.
Cynthia knew that there was absolutely nothing heroic about avoiding battle—it was downright cowardly—but she couldn’t shake the nagging worry that if it happened again, before Morgan could come up with his magic solution, she might lose her nerve for good.
It was on the afternoon of the third day that he found her, catching her on a water break from training. He looked a little out of breath, stooping over to suck in a few lungfuls of air, but he was wearing a bright smile.
“Whew! There you are. Severa told me you were in the infirmary, but in hindsight, I think she was just messing with me.” Without waiting for further reply, he started digging around in his bag. “So, I’ve been thinking a lot about your problem, and I think I found a solution.”
“Really?” Cynthia was on her feet in an instant. She knew she couldn’t expect Morgan to magically fix all of her problems, but if he could just help her with this one… “Like what? Like a fear-dispelling potion or something? I’ll try anything at this point!”
“Nothing like that,” Morgan said, and her disappointment must have shown on her face, because he gave her an encouraging smile. “Hey, I told you—you don’t need anything more than what you’ve already got. Buuut…that doesn’t mean you can’t use a boost from time to time.”
He finally produced an object from his bag with an air of triumph and held it out to her—a couple of braided tassels attached by a cord to two bronze coins with square holes in the center. The braided knots were bumpy and clumsily done, and the cord was uneven, but it didn’t look hastily assembled—on the contrary, the telltale frays in the floss spoke to how many times the knots had been pulled apart and retied. Morgan beamed at her.
“I made you a good luck charm! You know, like mine.” He curled his fingers around the charm he kept attached to his belt. He still didn’t know exactly why he had it, but he knew that it was important. “Granted, I don’t know anything about how you’re supposed to make them or what the designs mean, but since I can’t just make a medallion, I found some old coins instead. Anyway, even if it’s not up to traditional Chon’sin standards, I think it’ll do the job. Consider it, um…a traditional Morgan good luck charm!”
Cynthia took it with a bemused look. “A good luck charm?”
“Yeah! Well, something like that.” Morgan grinned. “You said you felt like you couldn’t say your lines because I wasn’t there, right? Well, if you carry this with you, it’ll be like I’m always at your side! I mean, that’s the idea, anyway. So…maybe this’ll help with your nerves in battle. No more flubbed lines!”
Cynthia looked down at the charm in her hands, turning it over. Morgan had been so bent on helping her overcome her case of nerves that he’d spent his precious free time these last few days making this little talisman, lopsided though it was. And it couldn’t have been easy to find the materials. She had no idea where he’d found the coins. She closed her fingers around it, feeling that little tremble in her lower lip again. Morgan watched her, his expression growing less confident.
“I know it doesn't look, you know, professional made, so if it would throw off your whole look, I totally understand if you—whoa!”
Cynthia had flung her arms around his shoulders in a crushing hug, burying her face in his neck. He let out a choked little noise of surprise, but she hardly noticed, overcome with emotion.
“Of course I’ll wear it!” When she pulled back, her eyes were shining—with the glimmer of unshed tears, Morgan realized, brimming over her equally shining smile. “Why wouldn’t I? You made it for me! There’s nothing more powerful than your faith in your friends!”
Morgan let out a relieved laugh and hugged her back. “Well, I’ve got that in spades!”
Cynthia pulled back to look at the charm again, turning it over in her hands. The more she looked at it, the more she could see how much care Morgan had put into making it. Running her thumb around the edges of the coins, she stopped when she felt a textured groove under her fingers. She turned over the coins and inspected them—along the edges of the thick bronze coins, Morgan had scratched their names into the metal, one on each, in stilted, uneven letters.
“Couldn’t get a professional engraver on short notice,” he said, grinning. “But it’s legible, at least. You know, in case you ever forget.”
“Like I could!” Cynthia ran her fingers over the tassels, wondering where he’d found all the floss for it. It was a mess of clashing colors, unlike the stately, solid navy blue of Morgan’s, but that only made Cynthia cherish it more. Who in their right mind wouldn’t be thrilled to receive a homemade gift like this? It only showed all the more the care he’d put into it. “Thank you, Morgan—really. No one’s ever made anything like this for me before. So you can be sure I’ll always keep it with me! And…no one’s ever called me that either before—their knight in shining armor, I mean.”
“Really?” Morgan looked genuinely surprised. “Well, they ought to! You’re out there every day, fighting for a better tomorrow.”
At that, her gaze dropped guiltily. It hadn’t exactly been every day lately, had it? In her momentary fit of nerves, she’d avoided battle and waited for Morgan’s magic solution. But…that was about to change! With Morgan’s faith in her—if she could just feel like he was at her side—she wouldn’t back down from a fight ever again. She grabbed one of Morgan’s hands in hers with a look of fierce determination.
“I’m going to keep trying, Morgan! After all, it’s not like I can afford to lose my nerve now more than ever.” She grinned at him. “I won’t let anything else hold me back from now on, so…so you can keep counting on me as your knight in shining armor!”
“I always knew I could,” Morgan chirped back with such effortless cheer that it almost made her envious. But she shed the feeling as though shaking away water. They could both be like that—a light to carry over to the next day, to keep the banked fires of spirit and morale lit through the night. More than ever, Cynthia was determined to keep carrying that light to tomorrow. He gave her hand a squeeze before he let go, and she immediately set about fastening the charm to her belt. She’d keep it with her always, and with Morgan at her side—with all her friends at her side—she could keep facing towards tomorrow without fear.
Title: A Rogue Friend Is a Wild Beast: Light to Tomorrow ♪🎵♪
Summary: When Cynthia forgets her lines on the battlefield and starts to lose her nerve, Morgan tries to come up with a solution to get Cynthia her groove back.
Notes: a few more flashbacks lined up! here's a cute little cynthia interlude because this fic started out as my little morgan/owain treat and is slowly growing into my boy morgan shipping manifesto
※ Each story is titled after a song from another Fire Emblem game, with a link to the track. Highly recommend listening to the music while you read for the Maximum Experience
AO3 mirror
He was floating on his back. It was dark, pitch black, such that there did not seem to be any difference as to whether his eyes were closed or not. He could not even be sure he was really opening them at all.
He was floating in a pool of water, so close to his body temperature that he had scarcely noticed it, until he stirred his arms and legs and felt the little ripples lap against his skin. His limbs felt heavy. There was no sound here, save for his shallow breathing and the gentle slosh of water. He hardly had to do anything to stay afloat. He wasn’t sure how deep the pool was.
He gradually became aware that he was slowly sinking under. No—he wasn’t sinking, but rather the water was rising up around him, curling around his midsection and over his shoulders like great, tepid arms pulling him into a deep embrace. The water rose up around his face, the gentle lap like a hand against his cheek. He opened his mouth, feeling the air recede from his face. He still couldn’t open his eyes. The water filled his ears, and all sound fell away, the only sensation now the ghostly touch of water against his skin.
Morgan awoke with a dry mouth and a headache, his ears feeling oddly stopped up. He thought at first he might be getting sick, but he didn’t feel feverish or achy, just sluggish and tired despite having dutifully gone to bed at a reasonable hour on Lucina’s insistence. Maybe he had allergies? It was entirely possible. He’d have to do some tidying up in his room later. He felt a little better after washing his face in cold water, but the fog persisted.
It had been a few months now since his new friends had first brought him to Ylisstol, and he was settling in nicely. Most mornings he awoke to find himself full of energy and ready to take on the day, but every once in a while he’d have a morning like this. Maybe he’d had a bad dream, although he didn’t think bad dreams were supposed to make you feel like this. He never remembered his dreams, at any rate.
Dawn was still slowly pulling back the curtains on morning when he ventured outside the castle. Maybe a walk and some fresh air would do him some good. Other than the scattered shouts from the early birds in the training yard, the castle grounds were still quiet. The day was a touch overcast, and there was a perpetually somber mood that hung over the capital, but it didn’t bother Morgan too much. He found early mornings like this peaceful.
He made for the royal gardens, which were even more overgrown than most parts of the castle grounds, but that was what Morgan liked about it. Sure, the reason wasn’t a happy one, but it fascinated him how quickly nature could reclaim a place, how weeds and little wild things grew in the spaces between, introducing colors and patterns never seen there before. There were countless flowers whose names he didn’t even know, little bundles of weeds and clover springing up in the tall grass. He’d even found a couple of brightly patterned bugs he’d never seen on the castle grounds before.
So many people seemed so worried that the world would never heal after Grima, but to Morgan, this little microcosm of regrowth was proof enough for him that it would. Certainly things would not simply revert to their original state—even this royal garden, a part of nature they had more control over than most, would never return to the way it had been before the cataclysm. But new things would always grow in those spaces, if people only let them. Tomorrow would never hold the same shape as yesterday.
He had a book tucked under his arm and a canteen strap hanging from his wrist. There was a mostly-intact bench tucked behind a hedge somewhere around here that made for an excellent reading spot, and he was finally getting to that novel he’d found in his bag.
A familiar voice carried on the wind to him, and he followed its source curiously.
“Hff, okay. One more time. Heed me, O righteous ones, for I, gruesome hero—gah!” A little wail sounded next. “Come on, Cynthia, get it together!”
Morgan rounded a corner to see Cynthia looking unusually dispirited, gently knocking her head against a moss-covered stone wall. She didn’t seem to notice him until he placed his hand over the stone wall and her forehead smacked into his palm instead. She blinked and looked up in bewilderment and dismay.
“Careful, now. You’re gonna lose some brain cells if you keep that up. And I’d know a thing or two about that!” Morgan pulled his hand away from the wall with a cheerful wave. “Morning, Cynthia. I didn’t expect to see you again so soon. I thought you weren’t due back until tomorrow.” He stopped and frowned. Cynthia seemed really out of sorts. “Or…did something go wrong?”
“Hi, Morgan,” Cynthia sighed, with none of her usual pep. “No, it went—fine, actually, for once, we just happened to make double time on our way back, but…augh.” She covered her face with her hands. “I totally blew it, Morgan! I made a total fool of myself, and now it’s like I can’t stop!”
“Whoa, whoa,” Morgan said with a little frown, and he set his book and canteen down so he could brace his hands on her shoulders. “What are you talking about? ’Cause the Cynthia I know is pretty much the coolest champion of justice out there.”
“My lines, Morgan!” Cynthia wailed into her hands. “I forgot my lines! On our way into the first battle, I—I don’t know, I must have choked or something, but I tripped right over the words and totally fumbled my opening line!”
Morgan frowned a little. “I mean…everyone flubs sometimes, don’t they? I don’t think it’s something to be that embarrassed about.”
“It’s not that I’m embarrassed,” Cynthia said, looking anguished. “The problem is that it completely threw me off! Now I can’t get any of my battle lines out without messing them up! I sounded so ridiculous, but then I was starting every fight on the wrong foot—I can’t focus in battle, and I’m tripping over other people on the battlefield—I’m just getting in the way!”
Morgan took all of this in with a sympathetic purse of his lips. “That sounds pretty rough,” he admitted. “Have you tried maybe going into battle without trying any lines? You know, just focusing on the fight. Maybe it’ll help you find your center again, and then bam! Back to normal.”
Cynthia looked at him with the kind of bewildered dejection that one usually reserves for a sudden summons to the gallows. “No way! Every hero needs her battle lines, it’s—it’s a crucial part of the package!”
Morgan accepted this without protest, falling deeper into thought. “Mmm, okay…well, what about practicing in the mirror? Have you tried that?”
“Of course I practice in the mirror! Every morning, first thing!” Cynthia’s shoulders went slack. “But as soon as I’m out on the battlefield, it’s like my tongue’s tied in knots. At this rate, I’m gonna lose my edge…”
Morgan bowed his head and tightened his hands over her shoulders with a deep breath. Then he looked her in the eye and said, “Alright. Let’s see what we can do. I’m not letting my knight in shining armor lose her nerve over a few fumbled lines!”
Cynthia blinked at him, her mouth falling open. “Your…knight in shining armor?”
“Well, yeah!” Morgan beamed at her. “You swooped in and saved my skin the very first day we met—and I don’t even know how many times since! I’d probably be dead five times over if it weren’t for you. So it’s the least I can do to help you get over your sudden case of stage fright!”
“Morgan…” Cynthia felt something swell in her chest. Sure, she’d always considered herself a hero, here to help out the little people and save the world, but none of her friends had ever really lauded her as such to her face before. She drew in a breath and gave him a decisive nod. “Alright! Let’s do this. What did you have in mind?”
“Hmm…” Morgan had forgotten all about his book at this point. A much more interesting distraction had presented itself. “Well, if you’re doing just fine with the mirror, then maybe you just need to start yourself with a small audience and work your way up from there. Then you’ll be back to your old catch-phrase flinging self, piece of cake!”
“Really? You’d do that for me?” Cynthia’s eyes shone with new hope, and she flung her arms around Morgan in a hug. “Thank you, Morgan! You’re the best!”
Morgan let out an easy laugh, returning the hug. “Aw, I’m hardly doing anything at all. You’re the one who’s gonna be putting in the work!”
“No, really.” Cynthia pulled back and smiled earnestly at him, and he seemed to reflect it back like a mirror with his own. “Inigo really doesn’t get the hero stuff, and Owain—well, his advice usually isn’t all that helpful. Or…sensical at all. But you always have the best ideas! And you never laugh at any of my lines!”
“Why would I laugh? I think they’re pretty cool,” Morgan said. “Sure, sometimes they need a little workshopping at first, but the lines you bust out on the battlefield really get you pumped!”
“See? This is what I’m talking about! I’m so glad I ran into you.” Cynthia straightened up, buoyed by hope and resolve. “So! Where do we start? And when?”
“Well, right now’s fine by me. And this seems like as good a place as any.” There’d likely be no one else around, so Cynthia wouldn’t have to worry about unaccounted for audience members. “Hmm. Okay, just pretend I’m a Risen soldier. Give me your best killing blow line! Really let me have it!”
“What?” Cynthia’s face fell. “I can’t kill you, Morgan! Can’t you be my boon companion instead? You know, for moral support.”
“I don’t see why not.” Morgan studied the overgrown topiary, then pointed to one just off to the left. It had been a bear once—or maybe an elephant? A man charging on all fours? It was honestly hard to tell. “Okay, if we need a Risen stand-in, we can use that guy. But for now…I guess it’s better to start with your opening lines and go from there, huh? Alright—show me a classic Cynthia entrance!”
She tripped on the first try, faceplanting into a flower bed gone rogue. Not to be deterred, she jumped back to her feet, blowing a loose strand of hair from her forehead.
“Okay, take two!” Cynthia assumed her hero stance, ready to launch herself into action. “Cynthia, justice of champion—augh!” She stopped mid-leap and covered her face with her hands. “I can’t even make it two words in!”
Morgan studied her for a moment, rubbing his chin. “Why don’t you try saying it more slowly? Don’t worry about the delivery. Just focus on the words. Think of it like building muscle memory!”
“Hey, good idea!” Cynthia brightened, then tried just repeating her line, no flair added. “Cynthia, champion of justice, reporting for—for—” She floundered and choked, and let out a frustrated noise, but Morgan was flashing her an energetic thumbs up.
“Hey, that was already a lot better! Come on, let’s keep going. I think this is really working!”
He turned out to be right. They met every morning in the early hours just after dawn, and Cynthia had to admit, it was a pretty energizing way to start the day, if a little frustrating sometimes. Morgan was never anything less than encouraging, cheering her on all the way, and little by little, she was regaining her confidence. Just having Morgan there helped, even when he wasn’t giving her pointers on delivery. And after a week of intensive mental training, Cynthia was starting to feel more like herself.
“I think I’m ready,” she said after they concluded for the morning. They’d done a fair bit of jumping around—Morgan was helping her with the blocking for a new entrance—and she was sweaty all over, but she felt exhilarated. “Next time I ride into battle, I’m totally using that divine retribution line!”
“Heck yeah!” Morgan high fived her with gusto, although the shock of her gauntlet left him wincing for a second. “That’s the spirit. Look out, world! Cynthia’s making her comeback!”
It was only a day before Cynthia was called into battle again, and Morgan found himself anxiously awaiting her return, taking to pacing the royal gardens once his responsibilities for the day were over. They’d agreed to meet here after she returned, and Morgan couldn’t wait to hear her report.
It was a little after sundown when Cynthia came into view rounding a corner. Morgan jumped up from the bench, snapping his book shut.
“So? How’d it go?”
Cynthia buried her face in her hands and let out a muffled scream. Morgan winced.
“I totally blew it! Again!” Cynthia sounded more crushed than ever before. “As soon as I arrived on the scene, I completely choked. I was so off balance, I nearly crashed right into Gerome and Minerva!”
Morgan’s face fell as Cynthia dropped herself onto the bench, “Wait, my technique didn’t work? It really seemed to be helping in our sessions…”
“It’s not even that.” Cynthia lifted her face from her hands, looking miserable and a little embarrassed. “It’s just—I got so used to practicing with you, and having you around, and…and now it’s like I can’t manage to get any of it out without you there.”
Morgan winced, looking rueful. “That…is a problem. I’m sorry, Cynthia. I didn’t mean to make things worse. That definitely wasn’t an outcome I anticipated…” He sighed, sitting down on the bench next to her. Cynthia shook her head determinedly.
“No! You didn’t make anything worse! It’s definitely helped—I can feel it on the tip of my tongue, I just…can’t quite get it out. It feels like something’s missing, and—and I lose my nerve every time.”
“But I can’t exactly guarantee I’ll be able to be with you in every fight,” Morgan admitted. Cynthia slumped on the bench next to him. She looked really dispirited now.
“Of course. I have to be able to fight on my own. But now…I don’t know. I feel like I’m losing what makes me me. I mean, if I can’t even manage a couple of lousy battle lines, can I really call myself a champion of justice?”
Morgan looked her over with earnest eyes, his expression unusually serious. Then he smiled a little and puffed out a laugh. “Don’t be silly. You can’t lose that.”
Cynthia groaned. Morgan picked up one of her hands and waved it in front of her face. “I mean it! Everything that makes you the person you are, that’s all on the inside. You’re already a hero, no lines or dramatic entrances needed—even if they are pretty cool. As far as I’m concerned, you’re the total package all by yourself!” His little smile split into a grin, and he bumped his shoulder against hers. “After all, you’re my knight in shining armor, right?”
“Morgan…” Cynthia felt her lower lip tremble just a little. She wasn’t about to start crying, not when he was trying so hard to cheer her up, but…he could just be really sweet when you needed it the most, that was all, and it made her want to wrap him in a crushing hug. Every time he said those words—knight in shining armor—it was like she could feel her spirit being bolstered, and she didn’t have gratitude lines prepared for anything like that. He smiled and patted her shoulder.
“Just give me a little time. I’ll come up with something. In the meantime…I’m cheering you on, okay?”
Cynthia kept on practicing her lines in the mirror as dutifully as ever, but she volunteered for mess duty for the next three mornings in a row, which earned her some funny looks, but more than a few grateful ones, too. Kjelle was slotted in for breakfast tomorrow, but if Cynthia was in the kitchen, it might be a little less lethal.
Cynthia knew that there was absolutely nothing heroic about avoiding battle—it was downright cowardly—but she couldn’t shake the nagging worry that if it happened again, before Morgan could come up with his magic solution, she might lose her nerve for good.
It was on the afternoon of the third day that he found her, catching her on a water break from training. He looked a little out of breath, stooping over to suck in a few lungfuls of air, but he was wearing a bright smile.
“Whew! There you are. Severa told me you were in the infirmary, but in hindsight, I think she was just messing with me.” Without waiting for further reply, he started digging around in his bag. “So, I’ve been thinking a lot about your problem, and I think I found a solution.”
“Really?” Cynthia was on her feet in an instant. She knew she couldn’t expect Morgan to magically fix all of her problems, but if he could just help her with this one… “Like what? Like a fear-dispelling potion or something? I’ll try anything at this point!”
“Nothing like that,” Morgan said, and her disappointment must have shown on her face, because he gave her an encouraging smile. “Hey, I told you—you don’t need anything more than what you’ve already got. Buuut…that doesn’t mean you can’t use a boost from time to time.”
He finally produced an object from his bag with an air of triumph and held it out to her—a couple of braided tassels attached by a cord to two bronze coins with square holes in the center. The braided knots were bumpy and clumsily done, and the cord was uneven, but it didn’t look hastily assembled—on the contrary, the telltale frays in the floss spoke to how many times the knots had been pulled apart and retied. Morgan beamed at her.
“I made you a good luck charm! You know, like mine.” He curled his fingers around the charm he kept attached to his belt. He still didn’t know exactly why he had it, but he knew that it was important. “Granted, I don’t know anything about how you’re supposed to make them or what the designs mean, but since I can’t just make a medallion, I found some old coins instead. Anyway, even if it’s not up to traditional Chon’sin standards, I think it’ll do the job. Consider it, um…a traditional Morgan good luck charm!”
Cynthia took it with a bemused look. “A good luck charm?”
“Yeah! Well, something like that.” Morgan grinned. “You said you felt like you couldn’t say your lines because I wasn’t there, right? Well, if you carry this with you, it’ll be like I’m always at your side! I mean, that’s the idea, anyway. So…maybe this’ll help with your nerves in battle. No more flubbed lines!”
Cynthia looked down at the charm in her hands, turning it over. Morgan had been so bent on helping her overcome her case of nerves that he’d spent his precious free time these last few days making this little talisman, lopsided though it was. And it couldn’t have been easy to find the materials. She had no idea where he’d found the coins. She closed her fingers around it, feeling that little tremble in her lower lip again. Morgan watched her, his expression growing less confident.
“I know it doesn't look, you know, professional made, so if it would throw off your whole look, I totally understand if you—whoa!”
Cynthia had flung her arms around his shoulders in a crushing hug, burying her face in his neck. He let out a choked little noise of surprise, but she hardly noticed, overcome with emotion.
“Of course I’ll wear it!” When she pulled back, her eyes were shining—with the glimmer of unshed tears, Morgan realized, brimming over her equally shining smile. “Why wouldn’t I? You made it for me! There’s nothing more powerful than your faith in your friends!”
Morgan let out a relieved laugh and hugged her back. “Well, I’ve got that in spades!”
Cynthia pulled back to look at the charm again, turning it over in her hands. The more she looked at it, the more she could see how much care Morgan had put into making it. Running her thumb around the edges of the coins, she stopped when she felt a textured groove under her fingers. She turned over the coins and inspected them—along the edges of the thick bronze coins, Morgan had scratched their names into the metal, one on each, in stilted, uneven letters.
“Couldn’t get a professional engraver on short notice,” he said, grinning. “But it’s legible, at least. You know, in case you ever forget.”
“Like I could!” Cynthia ran her fingers over the tassels, wondering where he’d found all the floss for it. It was a mess of clashing colors, unlike the stately, solid navy blue of Morgan’s, but that only made Cynthia cherish it more. Who in their right mind wouldn’t be thrilled to receive a homemade gift like this? It only showed all the more the care he’d put into it. “Thank you, Morgan—really. No one’s ever made anything like this for me before. So you can be sure I’ll always keep it with me! And…no one’s ever called me that either before—their knight in shining armor, I mean.”
“Really?” Morgan looked genuinely surprised. “Well, they ought to! You’re out there every day, fighting for a better tomorrow.”
At that, her gaze dropped guiltily. It hadn’t exactly been every day lately, had it? In her momentary fit of nerves, she’d avoided battle and waited for Morgan’s magic solution. But…that was about to change! With Morgan’s faith in her—if she could just feel like he was at her side—she wouldn’t back down from a fight ever again. She grabbed one of Morgan’s hands in hers with a look of fierce determination.
“I’m going to keep trying, Morgan! After all, it’s not like I can afford to lose my nerve now more than ever.” She grinned at him. “I won’t let anything else hold me back from now on, so…so you can keep counting on me as your knight in shining armor!”
“I always knew I could,” Morgan chirped back with such effortless cheer that it almost made her envious. But she shed the feeling as though shaking away water. They could both be like that—a light to carry over to the next day, to keep the banked fires of spirit and morale lit through the night. More than ever, Cynthia was determined to keep carrying that light to tomorrow. He gave her hand a squeeze before he let go, and she immediately set about fastening the charm to her belt. She’d keep it with her always, and with Morgan at her side—with all her friends at her side—she could keep facing towards tomorrow without fear.