Hey everybody, it's CookieCreamXP. I just want to say, I love this story, and thank you to everyone else who does as well! Now that I'm slightly better at writing, I've revised the first chapter to make it much more interesting, because let's face it, it had its faults. (I can't believe there were so many spelling mistakes in this chapter!) I hope you like this revision A LOT more—I know I do!
Summary: Ike's got this awesome plan against Marth, and using it means an instant win in a duel. Really, it was so stupid-just a little harmless insult on Ike's account, but even if he wins the fight, it doesn't mean that he can win at life in general. Ike/Marth, yaoi with sweet, sweet lime! Maybe I'll write a lemon later... NOT ON HIATUS-I'm still alive, guys! Also, REVISED first chapter!
Marth is a Lady!
Just because Ike and Marth were from the same realm, Fire Emblem, for some reason there was an already-placed expectation that they constantly fought together, ate together, bathed together, and generally breathed the same air between them.
Is that true? Nope, not really.
Until now, the two basically never interacted, besides occasionally greeting each other in an amiable yet distant fashion. The conversation typically went like this:
"Good morning, Ike."
"Hello, Prince."
"How are you today?"
"Good. You?"
"Same."
"…"
"…"
"So, nice weather, huh?"
"…It's hailing, Ike."
"Oh."
"…"
"…."
"So, I'll see you later?"
"Sure."
This had gone on for several weeks, and never deviated from its usual course, which generally suited both parties. Whenever they were asked to comment, they acknowledged each other's prowess in battle, but never delved any deeper. To him, the other was just another fighter.
So then…what happened?
The trouble began with every yaoi fan's favourite setting: the men's locker room. Ike and the Pokémon Trainer (A/N: Erm, does he even have a name?) had just finished showering after a friendly but exhausting duel with Samus and Ness, and were casually chatting with the few stragglers who hadn't left for dinner yet.
"Ow, I think I pulled a muscle in my shoulder." The Pokémon Trainer winced while rubbing his shoulders.
Ike cast him a skeptical look. "What? How is that possible? You just stand in the back doing nothing."
"What?! I do more than that!" The Pokémon Trainer squawked indignantly. "Remember when my Ivysaur saved your ass from Samus' Charge Shot? Multiple times?"
"Firstly, that wasn't you, that was your weird…dog-plant-toad…thing. It looks like it has rabies, by the way—have you ever gotten it checked?"
"Ivysaur," The Pokémon Trainer huffed, "is a highly intelligent animal, descended from dinosaurs, that has evolved an efficient way of harnessing solar power to—"
"Calling it an 'animal' is stretching it, don't you think?" Ike said while rooting around for his pants. At the moment he was only clothed in a flimsy white towel around the hips.
"Well, what else is it then?" The Pokémon Trainer challenged. "Is it a bacterium? No. Is it a fungus? No. Is it a plant?" He paused, confused. "…Well, um…"
"The point is, you're doing squat out there in the field." Ike shook his head. "The most exercise I've seen you do is throwing one of those Pokéballs, whereas I'm in the heat of battle, actually fighting."
"Eh, I wouldn't really consider yourself too highly, Ike." Captain Falcon suddenly said. He and Pit had walked into the locker room drenched in sweat, having just finished their own intense duel. Grinning, the racer leaned right next Ike's locker and crossed his arms. "You're not what we call an original."
Blinking, Ike asked. "'What do you mean, 'not an original'? Who the heck am I copying?"
"Well, Marth, obviously!" Pit said. "You're completely a clone of his. Look, the blue hair—"
"Hey, don't blame me, blue hair is oddly very popular in Fire Emblem, alright?" Ike defended. "There's Hecter, Chrom, Ephraim, Alm…"
"—both of you use swords—"
"That's even more popular in Fire Emblem. There's Lyn, Roy, Erika (who also has blue hair), Eliwood, Chrom again—"
"—you both have a sister—"
"Yeah, but…"
"—you both wear a cape—"
"Okay, but…"
"—neither of you have last names—"
"Yeah, but…"
"—both of you can speak Japanese—"
"Alright! Shut up! Can I first put my pants on?" Ike cried. He ran a hand through his hair aimlessly. It was a habit of his that indicated how agitated he was feeling—the messier the hair, the more bothered he was. Currently, it closely resembled sex hair after electrocution, which meant that he was extremely peeved. Pit, Captain Falcon, and the Pokémon Trainer were all grinning heartily at Ike's indignation, but he ignored their silly faces while fumbling with his pants. "Look, maybe Marth is a clone of me, did you not think of that?"
"Nah," Captain Falcon dismissed the thought, "Marth joined us first, so that makes him the original."
"Well then, consider him the prototype and me the real deal!" Ike retorted.
"I dunno," The Pokémon Trainer said thoughtfully. "You're a lot slower than him."
"Fine, maybe slower, but definitely stronger." Ike said confidently. "He throws like a sissy, and I'm not surprised. Marth is a replica of a woman from all angles, especially with that tiara of his. Are you saying I look like a woman then?"
There was a pause as everyone stared intently at half-naked Ike, evaluating him and his masculinity. "Well…he's got a point." Pit admitted.
"Who's got a point?" Yet another smasher joined the conversation. Ike recognized the gruff voice of Solid Snake, and sure enough, said man was strolling in from the showers, dripping water everywhere. Captain Falcon briefly filled him in while Ike finally finished putting on his pants. Now for his shirt, belt, and everything else…
Snake's sudden burst of laughter startled Ike. For some reason, he seemed to find everything Ike said about Marth extremely funny. "So, you think Marth looks exactly like a girl?"
Shrugging, he said. "He already is a girl. Have you seen how skinny he is? I could wrap one arm around his waist, and pick him up like a doll." Ike grinned. "Admit it, you'd hit on him if he had a chest, right?"
Smirking back, Snake contemplated. "Depends, how big are we talking?" Everybody laughed, including Ike. This was why he enjoyed Snake's company far more than most others. From the first moment they interacted, Ike realized that Snake was both a good friend and a conscious loner, which was exactly how Ike operated, despite the paradox. What's more, Snake got his humour, which is always nice.
"You do know that Marth would kill you if he heard you calling him a girl." The Pokémon Trainer said after the laughter died down.
Shrugging nonchalantly, Ike shoved his feet into his boots, and slung his belt over his shoulder. "With his girly throws? Let him try. I'm not scared of him at all." And with that, he headed out the door, almost tripping over a passing Olimar.
To be honest, Ike had no idea where this sudden scorn towards Marth came from, and felt a little guilty about it. Most likely it was the heat of the moment that forced him to badmouth; Ike absolutely hated being compared and considered second-rate to anyone. Well, Ike thought, it's not like Marth would ever hear about this anyways, right?
Ahahaha, yup, of course he would! You see, thirty minutes later…
"You think I look like a girl?!" Marth demanded to Ike during dinnertime.
"Well, have you looked into a mirror recently?" Ike said while taking a huge bite out of a chicken wing that was the size of his thigh. He chewed in annoyance. Damn that Captain Falcon, tipping off Marth just for fun. I should've seen this coming. "I suggest ditching the tiara and your haircut—"
"What's wrong with my hair?"
"Dude, you have friggin' straight-cut bangs on your face. And that tiara, I swear you lose all of your masculinity every time you put it on." Ike said.
"It's proof of my royal lineage, what else do you expect me to do with it? Frame it?" Marth snapped.
"Seriously?! 'Framing it' is your retort? Why couldn't you suggest something more tough, like barbequing it!"
"Typical response for someone insecure about his own masculinity, if you ask me." Marth rolled his eyes. "At least I look clean like this. You look like a monkey with blue hair."
"You look like Barbie with blue hair." Ike retorted.
"You give the worst victory speeches I've ever heard. 'I fight for my friends.' It's like you work for 4kids Entertainment or some other cheesy licensing team—"
Sighing, Ike interrupted. "Alright, stop. Here's what we're going to do. Face me in the arena tonight." His eyes glittered hungrily. He never could say no to a challenge or a fight. "If you beat me, I'll swallow everything I said about you. Scratch that, I'll acknowledge myself as inferior to your manly abilities. But if I win, you never bother me again while I'm eating meat, and acknowledge that you need to get rid of that haircut."
Frowning, Marth considered the proposal. Despite his fury at being considered effeminate, was it really worth a full-out battle? His court officials from Altea were constantly sending him loads of documents to sign, bogging him down with national crises like rising crime and opinions on curtain colours. "I don't know," Marth muttered, "I don't have time right now…"
"Well, it's no big deal. We could always just compare sizes down there. That's much quicker." Ike smirked. Say what you will, he was pretty confident in his "build", something that Marth didn't miss. Hey, they all shower together—it's hard not to notice everyone's endowments.
Blushing at the idea of being exposed like that for inspection, Marth stammered. "Ah, no, th-that's fine. Let's just go w-with the first option." Clearing his throat, Marth resumed speaking in his cold displeasure. "I'll see you at 8 then."
"Sounds like a plan." Ike waved Marth off, who strolled away without further ado. "Ouch!" Someone jabbed him hard in the side, and he swiveled around to snarl at the offender, who happened to be Link.
"You better be good, Ike." Link warned, adjusting his green cap and ignoring the look of indignation on Ike's expression. "Feminine or not, Marth is deadly with his sword."
"So am I," Ike replied casually, "I can KO you with only 50% damage."
Flushed, Link hurriedly said. "Yeah, well, I was having an off day then." He coughed. "The point is, Marth is faster than you since you have that giant sword weighing you down."
Laughing, Ike brushed off the worries. "Listen, I'm both stronger and more skilled. If I weren't confident in winning, I wouldn't have picked a fight to begin with. Besides, it's not like we're betting anything anyways, except for a little bit of pride—which, let's face it, anyone can bounce back from. Can you pass the gravy?"
Shrugging, Link dropped the topic, and passed Ike the ceramic boat that was filled with sauce. He learned long ago that there was really no point in arguing with Ike's ego.
That night, at 7:55pm…
"Ike said you looked like a girl? Wow, that's rude." Zelda said. "What's wrong with fighting like a girl? And here I thought he was a nice, handsome and quiet guy."
"Well, he's still a handsome guy." Princess Peach smiled.
"I know you guys have my best interests in mind, but could we not talk about how attractive my opponent is?" Marth asked while tending to his sword. He was rubbing down his Falchion with a soft cloth, giving a deadly blue shine to it. On the other side of the room, Ike was standing with Snake, apparently discussing the quality of different steaks. Typical.
Peach suddenly grabbed Marth's arm and tugged excitedly. "Hey Marth, do you want to make this match more exciting?" She whispered in a sweet but subtly devilish voice. "I mean, look at how calm Ike is. Let's make him sweat a little with a punishment for the loser."
"Peach, if you make him sweat, I'll sweat too. Don't…make it ridiculous, alright?" Marth said. To be honest, Ike did seem too casual for someone who just insulted a prince's pride. They behead people like him in some countries. Just saying.
"Mmhm, IKE!" Peach called out. Startled, the guy in question ceased conversation and glanced over curiously. "Over here!" She beckoned elegantly with a gloved finger, and Ike obeyed, his face completely puzzled. Princess Peach barely ever smiled at him, let alone wanted to talk. As he approached, she started talking animatedly. "You know, I was thinking of a punishment game between you and Marth—"
"Ah, no. No thank you." Ike quickly interrupted. He knew from Mario and Luigi exactly what kind of mischief Princess Peach could concoct when motivated. After all, that's where the saying in Smashville originated: Pretty little Princess Peach isn't as pure as people perceive.
"Don't be scared." Peach smiled coyly. "I was thinking, the loser has to buy whatever the winner desires."
Snorting, Ike said plainly. "Why would Marth need anything? He's a princess, he's loaded."
Sputtering, Marth cried. "What? You mean prince!"
"Sorry, what did you say? Your tiara was distracting me." To emphasize, Ike lifted a hand to shield his eyes, as if the little band of gold was suddenly blinding him.
That made Marth snap. "Fine, how about this?" He fumed. "Loser of this match has to do the winner's bidding for one whole day. Anything the winner wants."
Ike's eyes suddenly shone maliciously, making Marth instantly regret his words. "Okay, that sounds plenty exciting." Yes! Ike cheered. Someone who can fold my laundry. I absolutely hate doing that.
"PLAYERS, ARE YOU READY?" A booming voice suddenly asked. Without waiting for a reply, Marth and Ike were immediately transported into the stadium from Pictochat. Without another word, the two swordsmen assumed their stances. Marth had a grim face of determination, while Ike had this silly beam on his face (clearly he hated doing his laundry very much). "THREE, TWO, ONE…GO!"
Marth swore he only blinked, and instantly registered Ike's figure only inches from his nose, about to launch a quick draw. Thankfully, he was already ready to counter the attack. Ike swung back, grinding his teeth at the smarting blow he received from the prince. Marth was fast for sure, Ike acknowledged…but what was the good of that if you can predict his moves? He grinned, and dodged as Marth initiated his dancing blade.
"Wow, that move was pretty, did you take dancing lessons with Peach?" Ike taunted, earning himself a furious glare. Excellent, if I can just make him lose his temper… He waited for Marth to attack in rage, but frowned when he didn't. "…Why aren't you attacking?"
"Because you smell really bad, it's scaring me." Marth replied venomously. "Never had any girls ask you out before? Well, it figures."
"Bite my ass, princess." Ike snarled and raced over to attack.
The two continued to duel, slashing viciously while shooting an occasional insult at each other, but of course, none of them were very serious. ("You look like Sailor Mercury." "You look like King Kong.")
First Ike forced Marth off the edge of the Pictochat platform, then Marth got his revenge by slicing Ike into a hand-drawn spike, causing his death. Marth died again when Ike got the Smashball and Great Aethered him into the sky. Ike then lost another life when, overjoyed with his latest kill, he accidently stepped off the platform and committed suicide. Whoops.
Despite whatever Ike said about Marth's appearance, he was undoubtedly strong. He always knew Marth could hold his own in battle, but observing it from the sidelines, and actually feeling it stab him in the side was an entirely different experience. Marth's moves were also fluid and elegant, almost like a waltz—though seriously, Ike couldn't believe Marth still considered himself manly while pirouetting all over the place. But pirouettes or not, Ike couldn't afford to lose here. Marth would make him eat his words like a slave—that he knew for sure.
So far, however, the two were evenly tied, and there were only fifteen seconds left of the match. If nobody scored another KO, the match would enter Sudden Death, and then Ike would be screwed. Marth's speed and lightning reflexes would definitely have the upper hand. Ike could see an annoying smirk spreading on Marth's face like smooth butter as the seconds ticked by. Clearly the prince was aware of his advantage as well.
Ike cursed. I'd be a whole lot faster if I could just chuck this blade away, but that would be stupidity beyond belief. He studied Marth's skill with his Falchion carefully. What I need is one quick, decisive move that I can pull before he attacks, he thought as he dodged Marth's rapid draw. But like hell there is…one…wait…
And then, Ike finally thought of the foolproof move. Brilliant! He exclaimed with exhilaration. Marth wouldn't know what had hit him. Ike had to give credit to the prince. After all, it was his sparkly tiara that gave him the inspiration.
Out of nowhere, Ike broke into a malicious grin just before the last second ticked by. Marth blinked, completely caught off-guard by his sudden and obvious confidence. Was it a bluff?
As the last second ticked by, the booming voice returned and announced, "SUDDEN DEATH!" Immediately, the stage reset itself, and both fighters felt the load of 300% damage weigh heavily onto their shoulders.
Ike simply stood on the platform, still smiling like a crazed devil. Marth eyed him warily. "…What is wrong with you?"
"Nothing, I'm just happy." Ike replied honestly.
Well, whatever was wrong with him, Marth decided to end the banter as quickly as possible. It's alright, I'm faster than Ike. He coached himself. If I land the first hit, I'm all set. And without further ado, Marth dashed to where Ike was standing, preparing to strike.
Perfect, just a little closer—YES! Ike suddenly threw his sword Ragnell heavily at Marth. Caught by surprise, Marth quickly dodged around it, and found Ike right in his face again, just like the beginning of the match. Shoot, Marth cursed furiously, Ike can move fast without a sword. Slice him! Now!
Before Marth could lift up his sword, however, Ike initiated his foolproof plan. Grabbing Marth by his shirt, the mercenary swiftly pulled the prince off his balance, and then—gods attest—roughly crashed their lips together.
For a very long moment, neither of them moved; Marth's eyes widened to the five times their size as Ike continued to kiss him. His muscles froze in shock, with no apparent indication of recovering soon enough to resist. Smirking ruefully in the kiss, Ike couldn't help but nip playfully at Marth's bottom lip before pulling away.
Calmly, Ike stepped back and eyed Marth's stunned figure. When it was clear that he was in no shape whatsoever to oppose him, the mercenary reached over and gently pushed Marth off the edge of the platform, sending the prince tumbling down to his defeat.
As the sonorous speaker announced the winner, Ike ambled over to fetch his discarded sword while musing evilly to himself. Oh the exciting things I'll make Marth do tomorrow…
O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O
And here's the first chapter (revised), just what will Ike do to Marth as punishment? Ho hum, you'll just have to wait and see. And please review, ya sexy people! ;9
Love, CookieCreamXP
PS. Technically, the anime states that Marth does have a last name—it's Lowell—but for this story's intents and purposes, let's ignore that, okay? In the gaming world, he has no surname, and I'm gonna keep it that way.