A/N: a use of the f-bomb below, just a fair warning.

"You fucked me over," he snarls, teeth already stained red and expression pulled in a look of disgust. There is sweat and grime all over his face, and his sword is nowhere in sight.

Marth will not look at him. "I didn't do anything."

"You're a filthy liar," Roy hisses, his eyes flashing dangerously. "You told them where I was, you told them, I only told you where I was going!"

It is a true resolve, and that is perhaps why Marth does not respond. But his eyes hold little remorse, and Roy knows that he doesn't regret what he has done.

"I shouldn't have told you that I hate battling," he blurts out. "I shouldn't have told you that I'm scared of this place, I should have never trusted-"

"I think you'll find that trust is something that doesn't exist among us," Marth cuts in swiftly.

"Oh, I've figured it out," Roy whispers, and he springs off his bed, jabbing his finger in Marth's chest. "If only I hadn't been so foolish years ago, maybe I wouldn't be here, trapped like a rat in a cage-"

"Keep rambling." Marth scratches his head and ignites Roy's fury. "It doesn't matter, you're just going to be stuck here anyways."

Roy laughs. It sounds mirthless and is full of echoing pains and wars. "That's the problem, Marth. You enter this place, you are never coming out. And that's why you brought me back, huh? Because I hate this place, and you just love to see me in pain. You love to see anyone in pain, that's it, right?"

Marth smirks. "Precisely."

Roy rolls his eyes. "You're insane."

"Not to everyone else. In fact, I think our roles are switched to everyone else."

Roy scowls, and for a moment flames flare up in his eyes, an angry fire that seems almost uncontainable. He acts on impulse, and he finds his hands wrapped around Marth's neck, protruding veins and making the other boy's face turn scarlet.

But if Roy is fire, then Marth is water, the cool, calm collectiveness that always dances on the verge of killing his fire. When they make eye contact, the flames in Roy's eyes die, just a little.

"Going to kill me, Roy?" Marth asks, very calmly, even as his wonderful supply of oxygen is slowly, sharply being cut off.

There is a pause.

Roy's hands are shaking. He pushes Marth away from him. "No," he whispers, leaning close. "Because that's what you want me to do. You want me to look insane. Killing you is something only an insane man would do."

Marth slinks to the shadows, so only his bright blue eyes are visible. Roy can't make out his expression. "You're smarter than you let on, Roy."

His tone is layered with amusement, but it's easy to detect some kind of sick pride hidden in his emotions.

what if Roy didn't want to come back to the Mansion was a question I asked myself and then this kind of happened.

(back to writing for SSB haha)