Hiello, this is a sad attempt for a chapter fanfic. Warning, if you are not for shonen-ai stories, do not even begin this first chapter, for this is a story about two youths by the names of Marth and Ike and you get the point of what comes next, I'm not going to spoil anymore of the wretched tale. It gets romantic eventually.

Another fic done for Fye. Because she was feeling sick this time and I noticed was dying for more IkexMarth fanfics, oh ho ho. What Hell I sound stupid now Dl

And of course, disclaimers, Marth and Ike and Fire Emblem are not miiiiiiiiiine. And neither is Super Smash Bros Brawl, I'm very sure everyone already knows.


Once upon a time, and once upon a place, there was a once magnificent kingdom named Altea. As the legend goes, before the upheaval, the royalty were of blue blood. Ah, yes, the words were not a simple title back then. At the time, their blood really was blue, setting them apart from those of common red blood. However, some jealous thought that it was wrong, and that the demons of blue blood must be hunted out and destroyed. Assassinations were stopped, revolts soothed. The royals did all in their power to keep the realm at peace. And yet the darkness grew, and fate was turned against them. At last the rebels saw what was within their reach and they grasped it. One night, the night of the new moon, the night an heir at last was born, they crept their way into the castle. Taking torches with them, they lighted them. Setting fire, they slipped out unnoticed, killing any who saw the deeds committed. It was too late when the fires were noticed. Several fled for their lives, unable to save those left behind. Among those fortunate enough to escape was a knight clutching the heir, the promise still burning in his throat to one day return with the heir and reclaim the blue blood's rightful throne.

The rebels searched for years, exterminating every last blue blood they could find. And yet the heir evaded their grasps. Even fourteen years after the royals had been overthrown, the rebels continued searching. Some swore to never rest until they found the child and had it killed. And here, our story begins, fourteen years later, with an encounter beyond the high hills, in an open field of tall grasses and a wind tossed melody.

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Ike was ready for adventure. He was tired of training and being cooped up, kept away from all the excitement. What did they think he was, their floor cushion? No more! He was experienced enough with his sword to survive. Ike was ready for adventure and he was ready to go find it if that was the way he would finally meet it.

Taking his horse in the dead of the night(so that his uncle would have a smaller chance of finding him later) Ike stole away with nothing but his sword and shield. If he was ever going to be brave enough to be a knight, he had no choice but to leave. One does not, after all, become a hero by staying at home with tame training. Certain that he was correct, Ike left a note for his uncle and aunt, in (low)hopes that talking sense into them would at least slow the coming, or even better to stop it entirely, of their heart attacks. But he supposed that a man can't have everything. At least they still had their own son, Boyd, and Ike had entrusted his younger sister, Mist, to him before he left. He knew that perhaps it was mean of him to leave Mist. She was the only person he had after their parents had died. But he didn't want to put her in danger just for a foolish stunt he wanted to pull. No, he would not let anything happen to her. He would make sure that she was safe. He was sure that Boyd could be trusted. Without another backwards look over his shoulder, he spurred his horse on, riding for some time before he stopped for the night, settling down on a high hill before which spread out a long, wide, open field. He'd never been this far from home. Exhausted from the night's ride, Ike shivered and pulled his cloak more tightly around himself and slept.

It was strange, and yet somehow beautiful. Ike couldn't put his finger on it quite. What was the lovely sound that woke him? He rolled over onto his stomach. That helped him clear his mind somewhat. Listening to the lively tune a minute more, Ike finally realized. It was a flute. Someone was playing a flute down in that field. His curiosity was killing him. He must go and find out who was playing there, so skillfully that they were almost playing his soul instead of the musical instrument. He got to his feet, not even caring to shake the grass out of his cloak from the night's sleep on the ground. He looked around, searching for the source of the music. There! On a boulder in the field, there perched a lad, perhaps two years younger than Ike. His hair was a dark blue, darker than Ike's own shade of indigo. His skin was a very pale color, and he looked very frail. His eyes were closed, therefore Ike didn't get a good look at them. All he saw were the long black lashes resting on his cheeks. Ike thought that he was as beautiful as his music. All of this happened within a few seconds, however. Because the moment Ike saw him, he fell head over heels. Although, perhaps it would be more accurate to say heels over head - for Ike did not watch his step, and having placed his foot upon a loose stone that gave way beneath him, he fell and tumbled down the hill, rolling and kicking and flailing in a most undignified manner, all the way to the bottom where the lad was playing his flute and whacked solidly into his shins. This produced a sour note and the song stopped abruptly. He lowered the flute and peered over at Ike, who was now lying down, sprawled over the lad's feet.

"Good morning," said Ike looking up at him. That seemed to amuse the boy.

"Good morning," he returned. Ike noticed that his eyes were blue, too, and very beautiful like the rest of him.

"Lost my footing coming down, you see," Ike tried to explain. "Sorry about that."

He laughed. "You could start by getting off of my feet."

Ike nearly scrambled to get off. What was he doing, sprawling on a stranger's feet? Was that how people introduced themselves? He thought not. He stood, at last brushing himself off and shaking the grass out of his cloak. He then stared at the lad who was in turn, staring at him.

"Do you mind continuing and my sitting and listening?" He nodded his head towards the flute lying across the lad's thighs.

"I suppose I have nothing to mind about it," he looked up at Ike. "No one really listens to me play. It's a nice change." He then raised the flute to his lips and continued to play, this time without the sour note that Ike had caused. Ike sat down, cross legged, and closed his eyes, drinking in the sound. When he finished, Ike opened his eyes again, giving a comfortable sigh and stretching.

"You're really good at playing that thing, you know?" Ike scratched his scalp with one hand, the other on the grass beside him.

The lad beamed. "You think so?"

"Course I do," Ike looked puzzled. "Would I say so otherwise?"

The boy studied his face closely. "Hmm, no, I suppose you wouldn't. You're too honest of a person."

"I what?" said Ike. "Face reading now?"

"Didn't anyone ever tell you that your face is-"

"A signpost for all to read, yes I know." He should've guessed. He flicked his gaze over the lad again, inspecting him once more now that he was close up. He looked to be wearing a commoner's garb, so he must be someone of Ike's own rank. "What's your name then?"

The lad's eyes turned slightly suspicious. "Tell me yours first."

"It's Ike," he blinked. "Ike Greil."

"My name is Marth," his expression seemed to relax.

"Uncommon name," said Ike.

"I don't know," said Marth.

"But for that I know," Ike's brow furrowed. "Where do you come from?"

"Here, same as you," Marth frowned. "Why would I be from somewhere else?"

"You tell me," Ike scratched his nose. "You're the odd one."

Marth looked as if he was going to answer, but suddenly stopped. He frowned. "I have to go." He leapt up and ran.

"Wait, where are you going?" Ike launched into a run from his sitting position. What was going on here? He had longer legs, was stronger. He had the advantage. Catching up to Marth, he grabbed him by the wrist. Marth gave a slight gasp and turned to look over his shoulder. Ike saw him get a panicked look on his face - right before his lips moved slightly and he disappeared. Ike stumbled forward a step or two. He was holding only air in his hand.


And there. Chapter 1, end. Please do not kill me for making Ike be out of character. Sob sob. But I did my best! I hope you find it interesting enough to stay tuned for chapter two. Bye bye~