Taking a break from My Light, I apologize to everyone who's reading it. It's going to be the last chapter but it's so stubborn! Don't hold your breath, but it will come to you!
I felt like a change. So I'm doing some other pairings for the moment…thus this was born. Hope you enjoy, and review, tell me what you want to read!
Disclaimer: I do not own Super Smash Brothers Brawl, Fire Emblem or kid icarus. The story idea I however own, even if I may have based it a little on the three little pigs. I do not hold myself responsible from the confusion this one-shot might cause, or the crappy quality of the writing, Thank you.
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….Sigh.
tup. tup. Tup……..…tup, tup, tup…...sigh.
Tick, tok, tick, tok. The sound seemed to taunt at the prince, laughing right in his face as time seemed to move on slower, when he wished so badly for time to pass by quicker, for the memories to slowly fade into the distance.
Tup, tup, tup, tup, pumpf….sigh.
The plush mattress did little to comfort his tired body; the soft sheets did nothing to ease his pain. He looked up at the clock once more.
Tick. Tok. Tick. Tok.
Another sigh as he let his head roll backwards. How many sleepless nights had it been since that day? The Prince did not dare remember, but uninvitingly the number came.
He sighed and pushed himself up, drowsy, wanting nothing more than to fall into the dark inviting sleep, sleep that would ease the pain. But release did not come, and another day melted into another, not a break to differ them.
He hauled himself onto his feet and stumbled towards the door, his hand resting on the cool metal of the doorknob, but it felt warm to his touch- everything did, for nothing he touched was colder than himself, his fingers frozen and numb from the bite of the cold.
Walking down the lightly illuminated hall into the wide, empty, lonely kitchen; He was the only one awake. He was always the only one. While everyone slept peacefully, he would disguise the dark bags under his eyes, feigning the prince he once knew while the sun shone.
It was a routine. Far too many times had he nearly blown his cover, stumbling over nothing, zoning out during conversations, never, not once since that day, winning a battle.
With a sigh his hand rested atop the coffee tin. He would always make his own tea; no one could get it right but himself. He liked how only he could make the perfect blend of aroma and the creamy taste everyone envied.
But he tired of it now. How he longed for the tangy taste of the coffee he would serve. How they would argue but never agree, how he would let himself continuously fall victim to the evil concoction of sugar which would kill the taste buds and brain cells, but he could never truly let himself stop, he never wanted to see the sad gaze that the other boy would bear.
Every morning, before the sun rose, he would find himself here. Sitting at the wide, spacious table, a delicate china cup sitting in front of himself as he leaned over it, his head in his hands, too tired to do anything at all.
It was always an hour after now that the first soul would awaken and stumble out, the pink sky making his skin glow.
"Good morning Marth." It was always that greeting, a tired yawn as the boy rubbed the sleep from his eyes, coming over to sit next to him and letting his head rest on the table, dozing off softly.
The prince would always greet the other with a small smile, forced, his eyes slightly teary, but it was always excused as tiredness, while only the prince truly knew.
"Marth, why do you always wake before us?" This was new, the unexpected whisper breaking the silence, the high wall the other constructed.
The prince turned his head slightly in his hands to look at the bright blue orbs looking up at him, head in his arms, wide and awake.
"So everyone will have company when they wake." He replied.
"Marth, why do you always look so tired?" The boy asked, blinking as he shifted, stretching the soft white wings out behind his back.
"Because my mind is plagued by nightmares." The prince replied softly, in the gentle voice everyone knew, but never understood, as he folded his arms in front of him, looking away.
"Marth," The boy started, shifting to sit in his chair, reaching a hand out to brush the other's cheek.
"Why are you crying?" He asked quietly, moving closer, a worried gaze tinting his eyes.
The prince let out a breath he didn't know he was holding as he leant back, gazing towards the dark ceiling,
"Because I know he is gone, that he isn't coming back, that I should have told him." He replied in a whisper.
The small, frail boy next to him paused.
"Who is gone, Marth?" He asked.
The other boy shook his head, his hand idly playing with the handle of the china cup. "Someone very special." He replied, "The flame which melted the cold barricade of my heart, the flame which warmed my soul and captured me."
The boy looked on curiously, understanding, but confusion written on his face. He waited in anticipation.
The prince sighed, a lonely sigh as he dropped his voice, "I wake because I cannot sleep, I am tired because I cannot dream, I am crying because he is gone."
With a slow, labored movement, the prince reached into his pocket, resting his arms on the table as his hand held a battered piece of paper.
The paper held an image. A happy image. An image of a small boy and himself, two beings who contrasted in every way- tall and small, red and blue, fire and ice, guard and prince.
"Marth?" The boy asked, looking at the image sadly, the prince didn't reply.
"What should you have told him?" He asked quietly, putting a hand on the other's arm, looking up with wide eyes.
The prince paused. "I should have told him how I truly felt." He murmured,
"I should have told him…Roy, I love you."