"Damn." Marth hisses under his breath as soon as the angel catches sight of him.
It's unbearably bright, of course. Natural radiance and all. He just can't stand how damn righteous and upright they all are. To him, they all act like they've "got a stick up their asses."
It advances, with snowy wings lazily hanging off its back and a wary look on his face. Finally, it speaks. "Why are you here?"
Marth shrugs and shoves his hands in his pockets. "Can't a man go travelling where he pleases?"
It wrinkles its nose before replying. "You're not exactly a man."
"And what difference does that make?" The bluenette challenges.
"I'm appointed to protect this area. Therefore, I cannot let you pass." It deflects.
There is no spoken threat, but one certainly looms.
"Fine. I'll just take my leave." He growls as walks on by the blinding light, almost instinctively drawing out one of his huge pale-green wings to shield his eyes.
It twitches, rustling the back of his shirt and alerting the angel.
"You're no weak little imp either." It notes observantly.
The angel walks over to the demon's side, curiously examining the general human appearance and the oddly lengthy shadow behind him. Even in the presence of holy light, there was still that inky black shade that stretched ominously behind him.
When it doesn't answer, he merely shrugs and lets it pass by the area.
There's a spring nearby, and Shulk is lazily skipping stones to pass the time.
He senses the demon approaching before he hears the quiet rustle of boots treading on dead leaves.
"I counted six. Would you like something to eat, by the way?" It offers.
He bolts upright and immediately slings his sword off his back where it hangs. "Why did you come back?" The holy being questions, securing his grip on the hilt of the blade.
"Because I figured you were lonely?" The demon asks as he cautiously steps back, hands raised in deference.
The angel hesitates before returning the edged metal to its usual position. "I am. And I'm not hungry."
They both turn back to face the lake, and the blue haired shade pauses for a moment before sitting on the sand next to the other celestial being.
"Why are you here?" The blonde asks, attempting to make conversation as he begins to trace patterns in the sand at his side.
Marth snorts and sarcastically replies, "Go up to Earth, they said. Grabbing a maiden will be easy, they said." He pauses to angrily clench his fist to extinguish the purple flame that accidentally spawned in the center of his palm. "Too bad they sent the fag to go kidnap a woman."
"I was sick of the shit they constantly gave me too, so I decided to bail out on them. That's why I'm here. And the boss won't care, he's got a ton of other lackeys." He concludes with a sigh. "That's my spiel. Any particular reason you're here, other than that little patch of land?"
"...not as far as I know." He mutters, with an ironic touch of darkness.
After a pause, he relents. "But, I do have a theory it's because they didn't want me up there."
"Why?" Asks the curious demon.
He shrugs, his blue eyes a pair of glossy blank pools. "They just never seemed to like me being around."
"Hm." Marth says thoughtfully, deciding against pressing the matter.
He picks up a stone and turns it over in his hand, examining its rough edges and flat sides.
He throws the rock and counts seven.
On the third day Marth visits, he is instead greeted with a trail of unnaturally shining feathers.
Warily, he follows the trail and finds his friend curled in the undergrowth, holding his battered and scarred wings close to his body. They glow with a fiendishly purple energy, a burn that seems to consume and tear away at his soul with every passing moment.
"Shulk?" He whispers, horrified that anything could damage any celestial so badly.
The angel awakens with a start and instinctively draws back, his eyes glowing a strange shade of blue.
All of a sudden, he shakes his head vigorously and manages to pull himself upright before being caught by the demon.
The blonde visibly flinches. "Neither of us can return." He whispers weakly. "We made contact with someone from the other side."
"We were never going home anyways." The demon replies dismissively.
Shulk looks skywards with blank, glassy eyes as the bluenette carries him away from the never-sacred land. Finally, he whispers, "I saw the future…"
Marth raises a curious eyebrow. "Were you satisfied with what you saw?"
"Perhaps."
For the second time that day, yet for the first in his life, he awakens with a start and finds himself far away from where they met.
He glances around and finds delicate fibers, the color of a dusty powder green. They lie about on the floor of a small home, similar to the odd scatter his own dove-white feathers would
Awkwardly, he steps off the couch he was on and cautiously explores the house.
There is no evidence other than the powder-green fibers that anyone had been around the cottage for ages. When he reaches the second floor, he immediately freezes the second he hears soft singing.
"And if you were to ask me...After all that we've been through..Still believe in magic?"
Tentatively, he stands outside the door and sings the last verse.
"Well yes, I do...Oh yes, I do...Of course I do."
The door flies open and an uncharacteristically pale fiend stands in the doorway. "How long were you listening?" He whispers, mortified.
"O-oh-only for that last part!" Yelps the frightened seer, jumping back.
Silence hangs between the two for a long moment. Marth blinks before decisively pushing his blue hair out from his face. He pushes past the still-healing deserter and goes downstairs to begin tidying up the house.
Awkwardly, the blonde follows. "Can I help?" His hands are delicately clasped and held close.
With a curt nod and a broom thrust into his hands, they both work together to polish up the partially abandoned and partially ruined home.
Finally, when all the feathers and all the fibers had been swept away and all the dust was blown off, the pair collapse on a nearby seat in exhaustion, side by side. The main reason was due to both parties desperately trying not to accidentally rip each other apart with their respective powers.
Despite their natural polarity, they manage to coexist side-by-side in peace.
Interestingly, both are oddly curious about the other.
"Show me how radiant you could be." Marth says, and the angel responds, flaring his feathered wings and allowing his golden locks to fly up along his arms, allowing the horrifically bright light to freeze his friend.
Shulk whispers, with a slight skip in his heart, "Show me the darkness." And the demon responds, allowing the night to blot all vision as he closes his eyes and tilts his head, allowing the heat of the dark to settle into the bones of his companion.
From these dangerous and forbidden displays, they each grow more and more curious.
One night, Shulk bolts upright from a pool of beautiful golden ichor. He gasps, inhaling sharply as the pain burns from his side, the blood leaking from the wound.
He looks up and sees the watchful demon, a quiet and natural candle burning in his hand. His familiar azure eyes are unreadable, and seem to burn with a sinister red glow.
Slowly, agonizingly, he reaches forwards. Instinctively, the seer tries to pull away, but finds himself paralyzed.
A purple haze descends over his vision and he falls over, helpless and only able to watch.
Gently, Marth finally touches the open wound. It burns with the same violet corruption, and as soon as he makes contact, the pain seems to fade.
He closes his eyes and feels around with his mind until he finds the culprit. With sheer force of will, he manages to draw it out. His reaction is apathetic at best, and he easily disposes of the diminutive worm by dropping it and crushing it under his boot.
The haze fades, and Shulk faints. The wound begins to heal rather rapidly, and he sighs in his sleep.
The next morning, the pair share tea through a silence.
A gentle chime of glass as the lighter one sets down his cup and questions, "Why?"
"Why not?" Is the evasive reply.
The silence stretches on, until it is broken again. "You didn't have to save me."
"And why not?"
"Because—" A pause, for he cannot find an answer for the moment. "Because it isn't what you're meant to do."
Marth laughs, the insincerity in the harsh sound causing the other to wince. "We're not meant to do many things, and it's not as if anyone's coming to stop us."
He stops and clears his throat before continuing with a gentler tone. "Regardless, it was simply the right thing to do. The real reason I'm up here is thanks to being banished...nobody favors anyone who tries to help the other side on too many occasions."
Shulk sighs and lets his folded hands sit on the table. "I'm surprised they haven't sent anyone to mess with us yet. It's nearly been a year."
His eyes snap open the moment he realizes Marth's much warmer hands gently clasp his.
"We'll be fine." He murmurs with a smile.
That night, Shulk locks himself inside his room and carefully crafts a sculpture of ice.
The Lovers are two figures, so close to each other as they waltz across their small stage.
One pulls the other into a low sweep, the bottom figure somehow not collapsing when it's clear they do not touch each other at all.
"A perfect mid-air suspension." Remarks his own partner from nowhere.
The artist whips around, shocked. "How—?"
He merely replies, "Shadows," and leaves it at that.
In a vague attempt at recovery, he turns back around and continues to perfect and refine the temporary creation.
It's only when he finishes and begins to exhaustedly wheeze does he notice the arms that gently wrap around his waist. He feels the the friendly poke of the chin in his shoulder and the careful press against his folded wings and back.
"It's beautiful." Whispers the exile.
Shulk hesitates to answer. With a tentative open and close of his mouth, he finally settles with silence. Sweet, silver silence.
A week later, Marth turns left from the staircase at bedtime, as he's always done.
"Wait."
He pauses and tilts his head partially behind him. "Yes?"
"I...uh, can I…" Shulk stops mid-sentence and blushed a shade of red so deep that he began to radiate heat.
The bluenette smiles, a taciturn curve that's barely caught under the light of a waxing moon.
"Take my hand."
He reaches out and firmly holds on.
He takes a breath and follows his love through fire.
They're quiet for most of the day. They work in complete silence, each of them.
Outside, Marth carefully plants flowers, the beautiful shiverthorns and lavender his other half loves, and adds in a few fireblossoms and chamomile for himself.
Inside, Shulk continues to sculpt pristine ice into glistening spires and crystalline quartzes. He creates undergrowth in these odd, stony landscapes, paying attention to every detail and refining every shard until he has perfected everything, all for his soul mate.
He slides into a crevice and falls asleep, exhausted from his work.
He awakes in a bed, pressed up against someone who simply embodies everything he is not, and feels complete.
It's not long before the question is posed, and both agree to it.
They stand back to back, the cold seeping off one and smoke rising from the other.
Gently, they each tear off the other's wings, losing what power they had and the immortality they could've had.
There is no turning back, if there ever was a chance they could, let alone would.
That fall, Marth finds his lover sleeping on a hill with a bouquet of red and blue in hand.
He smiles as he sits down and begins to weave flowers in his blonde hair.
Shulk wakes up shortly after, with still-healing scars on his back and laced blossoms adorning his golden locks from side to side.
He pushes himself upright and murmurs, "I saw the future."
"And were you satisfied by what you saw?"
He leans forwards and gently kisses him. "Very."
A/N: wowowo this took a long time to write and imo it has the shittiest beginning ever but i love how it progresses so whatever.