Author's notes: Oh boy, first fanfic posted here. I don't really know the community, I just kind of stalk the entries, and when I came up with this jewel, I figured I had to post it. This sucker's going to be chaptered, and it's rated T because blood. It was apparently a surprise to my test reader.

Oh, I should say now: This thing has the highest spoiler density I've ever seen. Read at your own risk, as I said in the summary.

This was inspired by the future of despair DLC chapters, which I have only heard about, not played. If parts of this are wrong, welp, sucks for me. Anyways, for this fic to work right, I needed two Morgans, so guess what? M!Morgan an F!Morgan are twins here. M!Morgan will be referred to as Mark whenever both Morgans are involved with anything.

Please review! Thank you.

For being a ragtag band of rebels, Morgan had to say the princess's group fought well. They threw up an impressive defense and deadly offense. Even when all their hopes were dashed, there was always this core group which remained standing, with, of course, the princess Lucina herself at the van.

Morgan had to give her points for bravery, at least. Intelligence, not so much. But there was some reason she simply couldn't die– was she resilient or just lucky? Either way, she made a lovely opponent. Morgan had to admit that doing battle with her forces was a pleasure. She probably thought otherwise, being on the losing side. But Morgan would sooner destroy a stain-glass window than kill the princess. Sadly, he'd destroyed plenty in his mother's campaign.

But who was he to question the fell dragon? He was the son, the general beneath the empress. One of the two. A truth which had palpably come to light lately was the difference between Morgan and his twin sister of the same name. (He wasn't sure of the sanity of the chucklehead who named them, but he was sure to make some good devilry of it, so to speak.) Morgan- the sister- seemed to want to utterly crush these rebels, to wipe them from existance. Mark– as the male twin was secretly called– was really rather fond of them; they were a fit distraction from Mother's campaign of destruction. If forced to honesty, Mark would say he'd let the princess off easy, on numerous occasions. Would that his twin knew of the same mercy...

Oh, who was this? Two swordsmen– no no, one was a woman and indubitably Princess Lucina herself– came charging down the hallway at him. With calm and surety, Morgan drew his sword and prepared to show these two knuckleheads exactly how unwise it was to strike at a wielder of the technique Ignis... He motioned for the mercenary beside him– an acting lieutenant– to engage with the man while Morgan himself faced the princess. Grimly he examined the blade in her hand– Falchion, the fang of Naga.

"I thought I had you with that pincer movement yesterday, and somehow you managed to escape to this castle. Clever," he remarked to the princess.

She bared a snarl at him. "I'll grant you that there being TWO General Morgans was a clever feint. But now I know better than to underestimate you two! Hyaah!" Belting out a savage war cry, she rushed him. Morgan sidestepped and quickly struck back, afforded two quick stabs by the quality of his custom forged sword. She blocked with the sheath of Falchion– clever, incorporating it into her defense.

"I take it that blade is the Falchion? It's a beautiful sword, I'll grant you. But understand, its blessing is meant for use against Grima, not other fellbloods."

Lucina responded with a flurry of stabs, all of which Morgan blocked lazily. The bravest of swords, quickest of weapons, was a veritable asset, to be sure. "I'll still defeat you!" cried the princess, not quite realizing the margin by which she was losing. Morgan supposed he would just have to show her.

With a flourish of speed he had not yet employed, Morgan dove in, drove the point of his sword through the Falchion's ringlike crossguard, and twisted it free of Princess Lucina's hand. The blade flew in the air, and with well-inherited coordination, Morgan caught it in his free hand. The princess took a step back and drew a simple rapier. Morgan examined his loot.

"Beautiful. Truly stunning. A genuine shame I can't wield it properly. But then," he added, "even blunt steel can kill." Yes, he was toying with her. Despite his threat, Morgan still didn't want to kill her. He was fond of this enemy.

Now, he would brutally crush her. Alas.

"Lucina!" cried the swordsman with her, having slain Morgan's lieutenant (see? This is why he had been merely filling in; they all kept dying), and seeing that the princess really was out of her league. He rushed in with a deadly weapon which Morgan recognized as a killing edge, intent on saving the princess.

Romantic, Morgan thought as he waited to counter. With one well-placed blow of his brave sword's flat, Morgan sent him flying towards the far wall. He turned to the princess, who readied her rapier. Switching to the Falchion to use as a blunt weapon, Morgan let steel meet steel. Even with Morgan using the princess's own weapon, Lucina was still outclassed. Morgan swung, dealing a harsh blow to the princess's leg.

Blood spurted and flew everywhere, and it wasn't Morgan's. Belatedly, Lucina's cry of agony crashed against Morgan's ears as he stood back and beheld blood on the Falchion, and a lamed princess clutching at a nasty gash on her leg. If she hadn't leapt back at the last second, Morgan would have cut it clean off. It dawned on him exactly what happened.

Disgusted, he cast the sword away from himself and looked at his bloodstained hand. It couldn't be... How could it be possible? Only those of Naga's bloodline could wield Falchion, and even then only a select few among them could.

Filled with revulsion, Morgan shouted with all projection force possible, "Fall back! Retreat and regroup!"

He needed to speak with his twin, regardless of what punishment he would face for throwing the battle.