Chapter One: Hunters and the Hunted

A/N: I know that I should be working on my other stories right now, but I just got a surge of inspiration for a story idea I've been putting off for almost two years.

Yes, it's Marth-centric.

The world had become Hell.

That was the only thought of any who set eyes on the battlefield. Scorched earth was just barely seen through the flocks of scavengers, both human and animal. Bodies of soldiers from both sides were strewn as far as the eye could see, and the vultures had only begun to pick them clean. There was no way to tell who had won.

High above, riding the stink of decay for miles, was a dark shape nearly forty feet across. Red-black wings of leather supported the huge beast as it coasted on the death-warmed thermals, searching for prey. With a coal-colored body and an underbelly like blood, the creature drifted through the sky, ready to dive and snatch up any survivors for its master.

Its master preferred his victims alive.

Like a cross between a two-legged dragon and a demon from the bowels of the earth, the abyssal drake flicked its long, whip-like tail as it spotted something other than a rotting corpse or a worthless waif. This battle had needlessly made orphans of hundreds of villagers from nearby towns. The drake cared nothing for them unless it was hungry.

Having just feasted, the monster found itself able to concentrate on the task at hand – swooping down on and carrying away the one in the blue cloak.

From what it could tell, the straggler was around young-adulthood in human years. The prey was probably male; the ravaged setting was familiar enough to the drake for it to remember that the survivors were usually males. It probably had something to do with the fact that human males were stronger than their females. His hair was blue, and he brandished a length of sharpened metal (a 'sword', the drake recalled) at another human that the drake had overlooked.

The second human was much larger (more meal-sized), and covered in a hard shell that the abyssal drake recognized as metal armor. The worthless wretch was garbed in red and his shell had been punctured by a long wooden shaft. The drake's keen eyes saw the blood and it realized that the human was dying or dead. It let out a whining noise – it preferred its prey to scream as it was swallowed. The first human was shouting something in a language the drake had not been taught to comprehend.

The drake could not understand its soon-to-be prey's words, but it understood anger and its savage heart filled with glee at the thought of ruining a being's life even further.

"How could you do this?!" Marth demanded of his opponent, beaten and speared through the lung by one of the blue-haired prince's soldiers.

The corpse could not speak and did not have to – the frenzied grin held by his once-great adversary told all.

The man had once been a trusted ambassador from another land. Though not an Akanean native, the man had been accepted into nearly every fold of Altean society. He had been well-spoken, boisterous, and occasionally a drunkard. He had been relied upon by many of the palace dwellers and even peasants and merchant folk.

Then the problems had begun. First, almost three thousand gold coins had suddenly gone missing from the royal treasury. Soon afterwards, riots had become so commonplace that soldiers had been required to stem the tide of chaos. Marth's own father had died, for no apparent reason. He'd simply gone to bed once and never woken up.

There had seemed to be no connection until one of the rioters (who had been brought in for interrogation) had told all. About the bribed mobs, about the grand master plan, and about the future of Akanea's people.

The trusted ambassador, the great man, had been an advanced troop for the faraway kingdom of Bern, who had planned to invade as soon as their king finished conquering the continent of Elibe.

It wasn't all that surprising that the man had managed to raise an army in his wake. There were enough fools in the kingdom that would follow the traitor. Marth had only been surprised when they struck in so many numbers. Razing villages and towns in their path, they had been like locusts of human lives, drunk on battle-rage and blindly following a corrupted commander. Their campaign of destruction had ended violently at the hands of Marth's army.

As it happened, Marth actually had very few soldiers available. Most were attempting to set up a defense of the coast in the direction of Bern. Marth hadn't considered the possibility that the enemy had amassed an army of equal size to his.

That had left the four thousand Alteans Marth had under his command to fight almost thirty thousand rebels. The smaller group had only two advantages – they were trained to fight with proper weapons and armor, and they had almost fifty mages at their disposal. Superior numbers, Marth had known, would drag them down in the very end, if nothing else.

So it did, but not before Marth's loyal soldiers slew more than four men each.

Now there was no one left alive but the prince, the vultures, and the abyssal drake.

Speaking of the emissary of Hell, the prey had stopped paying attention to his surroundings. Now was its chance to strike.

The drake's muzzle split into a fiendish grin as it folded its wings and fell into a hunting dive. The parched wind blew past its sleek black body as it dropped out of the air like some killer bat. This was what its kind was meant for – swooping in and carrying off suitable prey for later devouring.

Marth noticed the growing shadow hanging over him far before the horrid creature in the air dove at him with a battle cry at the ready. Reacting solely on instinct, he flung himself out of the way, rolling to face the area where he'd been standing just in time to see the wyvern crush the body of his fallen foe.

The creature faced him, its red eyes aglow with malice, then unhooked its claws from the traitor's corpse and stalked towards him. Wisps of fine ash coming up from the scorched ground made it hard for Marth to breathe.

He coughed, and the monster lunged.

It leapt into the air, seemingly trying to crush him with its immense weight. Marth sidestepped as far as he could, and then slashed at the beast as it missed. So did he.

The wyvern-like demon swept into the air again, disturbing even more ash that got in Marth's eyes. Rubbing at his eyes furiously, Marth looked up just in time to duck under the beast's claws as it took a swipe at his head.

He had underestimated its agility, however. Swooping in from behind and swerving hard to hit him head-on, it lifted a huge set of talons and bowled him over, pinning him under its foot. Half-crushed into the barren, bloody dirt, Marth watched in stunned terror as the beast lowered its head until its dripping teeth were within an inch of his face. I'm going to die.

The scarlet tongue slid out between the blackened fangs, caressing Marth's jaw line and curling around his neck as the prince felt his heart pound furiously against his ribs. It inhaled, breathing so hard that it unsettling his dark hair, then blew out a strange green vapor.

Marth found that the darkness around his vision seemed to come much faster than it ever had before…

With the blue-haired human securely limp in its coal-colored talons, the abyssal drake leapt into the reddening sky, leaving the scorched, dead earth to rot. The drake didn't care about its surroundings – so long as everyone else was dead; it had no problem with leaving an area so prey-less as this.

As the drake beat its sail-like wings and set course for its master's lair, its insides seemed to shrivel up. It hated its current master, but it wasn't as if any of the others had been any better. After serving in the legions of Bern, and before that under the command of Nergal from the far-off land of Elibe, it had learnt to despise human masters. Nergal had been a fool, and the current king of Bern was no better. At least its new master understood why it wanted power.

Its current master was also more powerful than the beast, and it knew it.

"I think he's coming around," someone mumbled about six inches from his head. The urge to wake rose within him at the sound of the voice. It was a male voice, but younger-sounding than Marth's.

Marth stirred very slowly, aching in as many places as he had after his first day in the military training program. It was sort of like being kicked by a horse, only multiplied by eighty. Even when he finally managed to open his eyes, he was dazed and confused for a moment while his vision tried to clear.

Then he found himself looking up at a red-haired boy with bright blue eyes. The first reaction he would have had, if he was feeling normal and upright, would be to scramble away. Seeing as the person was above him and Marth was obviously lying down, in pain, he wasn't going anywhere.

"You okay?" the boy asked, leaning back. Marth abruptly realized that he was lying on a cot or something similar, and that the boy was sitting on a wooden stool next to it.

Marth sat up slowly, bracing himself on locked elbows when he felt like dropping from exhaustion. His impending headache was soon added to the overall list of aches. "I will be."

The boy shook his head. "Stubborn, aren't you?" Still, he smiled and helped Marth sit completely upright.

"Where are we?" Marth asked.

The redhead wordlessly jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. Marth looked around him and was surprised to find the bars of a dungeon cell. "This," the boy explained coolly, "is the lowest level of the dungeons. We, along with about twenty or so other people, are prisoners here."

"Including me." Marth craned his neck and saw another young man. Beside him was a boy of no more than ten years. Both had identical golden hair and blue eyes, and the older one wore two blue earrings. Most astonishing was the fact that they both had large, pointed ears sticking out from the sides of their heads.

The young man bowed, and his cap seemed to flow with the motion. "My name is Link." He straightened, then as his young friend bowed, he added. "And he is also named Link." The boy stood up straight, smiling shyly. He ducked behind the young man almost immediately afterwards.

"And I'm Roy," said the redhead as an afterthought.

"Marth," said the prince, extending his hand to Roy. Marth was vaguely irritated to notice that he, as well as everyone else in the room, was unarmed.

Roy grinned and clasped it. "Nice to meet you."

Marth nodded. "It is indeed." His mouth curved into a frown soon after Roy released his hand. "Why are we here?"

The younger Link and Roy shrugged. Marth sighed. No hope there.

Then the older Link said evenly, "I've been here since there were any prisoners at all. I know."

Everyone blinked at him. "So?" Roy prompted.

"We are here to fight." Link said sadly. The younger Link gasped. Roy's mouth hardened into a grim line. Marth's eyes narrowed. "The last 'tournament' was held with twelve fighters. Myself, Mario, Luigi, and Samus were included."

Roy sat down on the cot, his eyes dark. "What happened?"

Link sighed. "We fought. Mario won, of course, but the one who kept us here has yet to make good on his promise to release us."

Marth, however, had hit a snag. "Who are the other prisoners?"

Roy held up both hands. As he named each fighter, he put down one finger. "Samus, Mario, the older Link, Captain Falcon, Ness, Yoshi, Luigi, Donkey Kong, Fox, and Kirby have been here since the first fight. So have Pikachu and Jigglypuff. There are others, but we don't really know their names yet."

"'Jigglypuff'?" Marth repeated blankly.

"Don't let the name fool you – Jigglypuff's still pretty dangerous, or so Link tells me." Roy said with a faint smile. "I've been told that she looks rather like a pink snowball with ears.

"Anyway, Link doesn't know who else is here besides you, me, and the kid." Roy nodded at the younger Link. "We're all new, and that means, according to him, that we don't get to see who else is here until the training sessions start up."

"Ah," was all Marth could say. "So…how did all of you end up here? I can't remember how I did." Something had happened, he knew that. But everything after seeing the traitor's corpse and before waking up was a blur.

Roy shrugged. "Big battle where I was. The enemy was using wyverns, so no one thought it was a big deal when one flew over. I guess we figured we'd just shoot it down like all the ones before." Roy flopped onto the cot, blowing his hangs out of his face. "Next thing I knew, I was here."

Link nodded. He had apparently heard this story before. "It seems that way for nearly all of the combatants. I guess that dragon is our host's way of inviting people." His voice was very dry as he spoke.

"Who's the jailor, anyway?" Roy asked.

"Apparently, our captor's name is Master Hand, though I've never seen him. Mario may have – he did win the tournament the last time around, but he disappeared at about that time, as well. We guessed he fought Master Hand." Link shrugged. "Anyway, we only have to worry about the two types of soldiers that Master Hand uses."

"Two? Even an underpaid army has at least three regiments – archers, cavalry, and infantry." Roy countered.

Link pointed out of their cell to prove his point. A human-shaped creature made of purple crystal loped by, holding a sword. In fact, the shape of it was more than human…it even had the ears sticking out from the sides of its head and the crystalline equivalent of Link's tunic and hat.

"That would be one of my copies." Link said tonelessly. "Master Hand made these after the first group of fighters. They're called Fighting Polygons."

"Besides those," he continued, "there are what we call Fighting Wire Frames." At that moment, a similar creature made of glowing purple wire, which followed the Polygon with the symbol in its chest pulsing rapidly. Marth noted that it had a knife in its hand. As the Wire Frame passed out of sight, there was a shattering noise and high, harsh laughter. A moment or two later, the Wire Frame was walking back the way it had come, whistling without a face, and twirling the knife in its fingers.

"The Fighting Wire Frames and Fighting Polygons spend most of their time either acting like prison guards or knifing each other." Link said, shaking his head.

"I understand, I think." Marth responded in a low tone. He glanced at the two Links mildly. "So, what can we do to tell you two apart? It would be rather inconvenient to have to clarify every time we called your names."

The Links exchanged glances. The younger one shrugged, and then spoke softly in a voice that did not seem to have been used for a long time, "You can call me Young Link. Or half-pint, since everyone else does."

"'Everyone else'?" Marth repeated. He felt like a fool.

"Yeah. Besides the original twelve, there are now fourteen new people, including you, me, and the half-pint." Roy explained in a bored tone. "Apparently, we're separated by what type of weapon we use. We meet everyone else about once every two days."

Marth thought about that for a minute, then shrugged. He'd find a way out of this eventually. He had to. Altea would be crushed by Bern if he couldn't help.

"Will that be soon?" he asked.

Roy nodded. "I think so. A few hours, maybe."

"Have you recovered enough?" Link asked.

"Enough to get out of bed, I think." Marth answered, standing up and walking a few paces around the room to demonstrate. He was still sore, but he had rcovered enough to move easily.

"Good. Usually, meetings involve some light sparring, so be ready if somebody decides not to go easy on you."

"That can't be a good thing."

"It isn't."

Young Link walked to the cell door. The others turned, and Marth noticed a male Fighting Wire Frame messing with the lock. With a click, the cell door swung open.

"Out, scum," it hissed.

Marth glanced at the others. Roy nodded. Young Link had dashed behind Link again and was glaring at the creature. Link sighed.

Slowly, all four of them made their way out of the cage, the Frame gesturing forcefully behind them with a glowing pink sword. In Marth's experience, anything that gave off light (such as a torch) was not something he wanted against his back. Especially not with an aggressive monster behind it.

Mild as sheep, they were herded out of the catacombs into a spacious, well-lit arena. Twenty-two other...people were already there. Marth wasn't sure he could even count most of them as people.

Off in the corner, there was a huge turtle-like creature with massive spikes and a shock of orange-red hair. It seemed to be arguing with two men in green and red, along with a pretty young woman in pink. In the middle of the arena, what Marth had thought was a shadow turned out to be the vague shape of a man, but when it turned sideways, it disappeared. It was apparently conversing with a young black-haired boy wearing a strange red hat.

And that was just five of them.

"Marth, stop staring." Roy muttered, nudging him in the ribs. He grabbed Marth's wrist and tugged him over to where Link and Young Link were speaking to a very pretty girl in pink with ears similar to theirs. She was smiling, but still seemed worried for some reason.

The three elves turned to face him and Roy as soon as they approached. Marth bowed, as did Roy.

"Thank you," the girl said kindly. "My name is Princess Zelda. However, I would prefer it if you just called me Zelda. This is not the place for formalities."

Marth straightened. "And my name is Marth."

Zelda smiled again. "It is very nice to meet you." She sighed. "I am sorry that you have also come to this place as a prisoner as well."

Not that Marth wasn't fond of Zelda already, but he didn't feel any odd swooping sensation that he had expected to upon meeting such a beautiful woman. Perhaps it was because of the look that Link had given the princess. Link cared about her, and besides, Marth had someone waiting for him at home. Sheeda, if she survived Bern's impending invasion, was the one Marth had his heart set on.

"How is this tournament run?" Marth asked. "I assume we are matched up with opponents from the beginning and fight our way up."

"Correct." Zelda replied. "I am not sure how, but Mario seems to think that our opponents will be random this time. We may fight any person here."

"Ganondorf's here, right?" Link asked, leaning against the wall with his eyes closed. Marth noted that the topic did not seem to concern him in the least, and strode over to Roy to speak to him. It didn't stop him from hearing what Zelda was saying, however.

Zelda nodded solemnly. "Unfortunately, this 'Master Hand' has also broken the seal on the Evil Realm. He is here, though greatly weakened. His experience after attempting to steal the Triforce has not been kind." She sighed again and wrung her hands nervously. "It will still be difficult for anyone who faces him, however."

Standing a fair distance away, Marth glanced from one to the other, not quite understanding. Roy noticed his confusion and grinned. "Have you noticed?"

"Noticed what?"

Roy smiled. "Well, Link - the half-pint, too - is pretty quiet around everyone except us. He's got the reputation of being a mute around the older fighters."

"Besides Mario?"

"Yeah."

Marth paused. "Who is Mario?"

Roy pointed to where the two men in red and green were still arguing with the turtle-creature. "He's the guy in the red shirt." Marth noticed that the shorter of the two, dressed in red and blue, had a moustache and a red hat. He seemed to be more involved in the debate that either the green-clothed man or the blonde in pink.

"Mario's the oldest out of us, besides maybe Ganondorf. He has senority, and even if he wasn't the oldest, most people would listen to him. He has a good head on his shoulders." Roy elaborated. "Like Link is the hero for Hyrule - Zelda's kingdom - Mario's the hero for the Mushroom Kingdom. The girl in pink is Princess Peach Toadstool, the current ruler of the Mushroom Kingdom."

"So he has a good reputation?" Marth asked.

"Yes. The turtle is Bowser, who is Mario's main enemy in the same way that Link and Ganondorf are always fighting." Roy went on. "The man in green is Mario's little brother, Luigi. He's shy compared to Mario, but he's a good guy."

"How do you know all of this?"

"You don't get any credit for leadership if you don't bother to get to know the people around you." Roy said mildly. "I asked everybody who didn't look like they'd eat me." He paused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Do you want to meet anyone?"

"I don't know, honestly." Marth replied. This was a little too much to get used to.

"Oh, come on." Roy said. "You aren't going to get used to anything at all if you don't try stuff."

Marth shook his head. "I'll take it one step at a time." Marth looked up at the ceiling, far away and glowing faintly. Returning his gaze to Roy, he asked, "What about you?"

Roy shrugged. "If you really want to know, I'll be happy to tell you."

"Please."

"Okay then," Roy said, leaning against the metallic wall that framed the arena. "Where to start..." He snapped his fingers. "I was born in Pharae, a small country in the League of Lycia. My father was the reigning lord, but he fell ill a little while ago and someone else is running it in his place at this point. I was appointed general of the Pharaean armies just in time as the kingdom of Bern decided to invade."

"Bern?" Marth repeated, thunderstruck.

"Yes. What's wrong?" Roy sounded concerned.

"Bern sent a spy to my people a short while ago." Marth explained softly, watching Roy's blank face carefully for a reaction. "He raised an army in his wake and tried to conquer the continent. In the last battle, he destroyed the entire internal defense at the cost of his life and lives of thousands of his followers. Before then, though, he was quick to assure me that Bern would invade Akanea as soon as they crushed all resistance in their home continent of Elibe."

Roy winced. "Ouch. Still, he would have been wrong." At Marth's surprised look, Roy added, "I was my duty to see to the defense of nearly every country in Elibe. We fought Bern to a standstill and killed their king several months ago. His half-sister Guinevere is currently the queen and she's much more peaceful than he was."

Marth felt a pleasant sort of surprise fill his heart. He chuckled. "In that case, I am glad that you led your people to victory." A frown crossed his face. "I thought that we were going to...spar, for lack of a better word. This seems more like a meeting of friends than anything."

"Oh, this is just foreplay, you might say," the redhead replied, jabbing a finger at a huge scoreboard hanging from one wall. "The matchups for practice are up there."

"And you don't seem worried...why?"

Roy indicated a distant box with his name in it. On the corresponding box, it read Captain Falcon. "I need to work on speed, and he's the fastest one here." Roy grinned at Marth's skeptical look. "Oh, he won't kill me. The guy's nicer than that."

"I'd be lying if I said I shared your optimism." Marth replied, deadpan.

"Pessimist." Roy teased.

"I prefer to call it realism." Marth responded coolly. "Who am I fighting?"

Roy glanced at the board. "Samus, one of the senior fighters, like Falcon and Mario."

Marth sighed as Roy indicated a person wearing orange armor with what seemed to be a cannon on his arm. The helmet swiveled to face him, and Marth met the blank green screen evenly until the person looked away.

"Don't worry. She's not going to hurt you that badly." Roy said, seeming ridiculously cheerful.

"I'm fighting a girl?" Marth demanded.

"Yes. Don't let that hold you back, though. She's beaten nearly everyone here at some point or another."

Marth sighed dejectedly. "Blast it all."

"I know what you mean."

"No, I'm pretty sure you don't."

A/N: So, chapter one's over. Marth's going to see hell from Samus before too long.

And yes, Link is talkative around Marth, Roy, and Young Link. And maybe Zelda. Just not the general public.

Plot stuff and the pulling away of Marth's security blanket comes later.

Read and tell me what you think. Thanks for reading!