Hello, fanfic readers! I'm back with a new story, for this week's part of my tale-a-week challenge.
I'm still up to my usual MarthxIke tricks, but this time I've genderbent Marth (I'm sorry, Marth fans!) and am calling her 'Marthsca,' by my sister's awesome suggestion. If anyone leaves a review, I hope you'll tell us what you think of this variation of the name. I think it fits her role in the tale.
I own nothing from SSB, obviously, or Soren from FE, because if I did I wouldn't be writing fanfictions, duh.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy my newest work!
Witch-hunt is what they called it.
Destruction, is what Marthsca thought as she stared out her open window, watching smoke rise from twenty different locations at once. So many innocents going to waste, as if they really had anything to do with the dark arts - it was a shame, certainly. She had known some of them briefly, an angel with snow-white wings, the orange-haired young man who had sworn loyalty only to her, a mage with red eyes, and even the princess. It wasn't their fault, and she couldn't understand why they were targeted. Perhaps the frightened villagers needed someone to blame, and there they were, perfectly placed for the blaming. She knew somewhere out there was a dark young man screaming for his angel to escape somehow, struggling against the bonds that kept him from leaping to the beautiful creature and severing the rope tied tightly around a slight body and a stake.He'll scream for hours after that body is already ashes, she mused. And I, how can I help?
She shook her head resolutely. It's simple, I can not. Perhaps I truly did practice the arts once, but that changed...
It was a memory not easily forgotten. She had met a young man, his smile bright with lively interest. He'd found her gathering fallen twigs in the haunted wood, and was surprised that a girl had entered the wood alone. This was not the first time she had met someone in this wood, but the first time it turned out to be a breeze-tempered stranger. Not to mention he looked handsome.
At the sight of him she dropped her bundle of sticks and pressed her knuckles to her mouth to stifle a shriek of surprise and alarm. He was not one of the local witches and wizards all hiding out here. What could she do not to rouse suspicion?
"I'm sorry, did I frighten you?" he asked with slight amusement and a bit of concern. "This wood is no place for young women. Why are you here?"
"I-I..." Marthsca shook in her boots. "I needed wood, quite badly. My house is cold," she tried to explain in a very normal way. This was very difficult, as her voice sounded on the brink of terrified tears.
Fortunately, he misunderstood her terror. "Let me help you, and it'll be over quickly. I'll walk you home, so no one attacks you."
"You, what, why?" She asked, bewildered as to why anyone would help someone like herself.
He blinked. "Why not, is the question. There are vicious beings in the wood, dark arts users. You are alone, vulnerable. Do you not wish for protection?"
"I, oh... I see." A flood of relief made her nearly laugh aloud. She was a witch, and here was one of the witch-hunters, offering most sincerely to help her.
Afternote - thanks to SSBBswords for helping correct this chapter, I really appreciate it!
I accept readily any improvement anyone can make to my writing.
I guess you could say it's a resurfaced old dream of mine, to write great fantasy novels someday.