Like A Beautiful Dance
Author's Notes: I was working on chapter ten of Melee Academy when this came to me. I was listening to "Cotton Eye Joe" and it sort of popped into my head, mostly because that's a song you can't help but dance to, and Fencing is like dancing, in a way. Plus I need practise writing sparring scenes and such, and this was a great practise. I think this is the only Melee fic I've written that has no pairing, haha.
Disclaimer: I don't own Super Smash Brothers Melee. It belongs to Hal Laboratory/Nintendo. Marth and Roy belong to Intelligent Systems/Nintendo.
-x-
It was a beautiful sight to see, Marth and Roy fencing. The way Marth moved so fluidly as he dodged Roy; the red head's onslaught of slashes and thrusts just kept coming and coming, almost like they would never cease; how their swords hit each other in a sort of rhythmic way, like it was well-rehearsed, but at the same time, not choreographed, like they knew exactly what the other would do and how to counter it. To someone who had never seen it before, it looked like a sort of dance, like they were dancing to the tune of music only they could hear. Metal scraping against metal was resounding through the air as Roy's blade connected with Marth's, parrying his thrust and catching him off guard. The ruffling of fabric was heard as Marth quickly turned; Marth moved his arm without hesitation and held his sword parallel to his body, canceling one of Roy's oncoming attacks. Marth slid the edge of his blade down the length of Roy's and quickly stepped away from the red head. Marth saw an opening and metal met once again, eyes locked on each other as Marth had the upper hand and pushed Roy backwards, knocking him off balance.
Roy skidded back and was given no time to recover; Marth came after him and slashed at Roy, who jumped away, but not in time as the attack connected with Roy's arm, leaving a light red mark in its wake. Roy grit his teeth and held his sword perpendicular to the ground, calculating what Marth's next move might be. Marth held the hilt of his sword tip down and in between his first and middle fingers, his free arm brushing himself off. Marth knew what Roy was doing and so Marth stood completely still, not wanting to give any future moves away.
The action came to a sudden halt when Marth moved to the opposite side of the fencing mat, giving Roy time to breathe. It was so quiet, one could hear a pin drop as Roy narrowed his eyes and they both studied each other.
"You give up?" Marth asked, flicking his wrist so the foil moved and he could grab onto its hilt again. He brushed the sweaty blue hair out of his face and resumed his neutral sword stance--feet not too far apart, his sword held downwards by his side--so Roy wouldn't be able to detect Marth's plans.
Roy was bent over, hands on his knees, panting.
"No," Roy said, moving his head so his fringe was out of his eyes. "Why would I give up to you?"
Marth smirked; Roy resumed his usual sword stance, eyes focused not on Marth's face, but on his foil.
Suddenly, Marth lunged forward and swung at Roy again, but he blocked the attack from Marth with the knuckle guard, a hollow sounding metallic sound echoing through their ears. Marth smirked, used his momentum to quickly spin around, and tried to hit Roy's back but Roy saw the move coming and ducked down, quickly moving so he was behind Marth.
Marth had never sparred with someone like Roy, someone with just as much skill as himself. Marth considered himself to be excellent when it came to swordplay, but he was shown he needed some improving when he first sparred with Roy. Marth tried to think of the word Roy used, the word Roy said his teacher used to describe the red head's affinity towards swordplay. Roy was about to strike when Marth spun around on his heel, blocked the attack, and pressed his weight against his sword in an attempt to get Roy to back off.
Prodigy. That was the word Roy said. That was why Roy was so good at what he did, why he was a natural when it came to sword arts.
Roy's and Marth's swords connected again, this time, they were pointed at each other's throats. Marth pushed Roy's blade away, knocking Roy off balance once again, only Roy fell on the floor and his foil skitted across the mat.
"Touché," Marth uttered, pointing the foil tip at Roy's throat.
The music stopped and the dance ended just as beautifully as it had started.