I, Lady Paprika, do not own anything associated with Nintendo which includes its characters, settings and anything that falls under its ownership. I also do not own A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens or any quotes that I may have inserted here that belong to

~˚One Year Later˚~

Ike abhorred tea.

Unfortunately, Peach loved it which was why he often found himself struggling through one cup every week. It was the only time that he got to spend any sort of time alone with her. Usually, she was with Marth or Link and Zelda and even though Ike enjoyed Marth's friendship and Link and Zelda were kind to him, he mostly enjoyed Peach's presence. It had been four months since their meeting in the pub and ever since then Ike had formed a fast and easy friendship with Peach as well as Marth.

Peach was beyond lovely; she was a beacon of light to him. It was she who had discovered his addiction to alcohol and had tried to bring him out of it. "Drink tea instead," she had suggested and firmly set up a weekly date for them both to have tea. Ike didn't have the heart to tell her he didn't like the hot beverage at all, and he found he enjoyed being with her which is why he had not objected to their meetings.

He enjoyed everything about Peach. The way she radiated warmth as light and as heavy as the sunlight. He enjoyed the way how when, he made her laugh really hard, she sometimes snorted and would laugh in embarrassment even louder. He loved the slight chip on her right tooth that he could see when she smiled hard. He enjoyed the way she meticulously would make sure everything at her house look perfect and in place, like a show room. Most of all, he enjoyed the way she seemed genuinely interested in everything he had to say. That was certainly new. The only other time he had experienced this sort of attention was from Marth.

"Can you keep a secret?" Peach asked now. She picked up a silver-coated pair of sugar tongs; Ike had gifted them to her when her birthday had passed a month ago. She picked stirred in three sugar cubes into her tea. Judging by the way she swirled her tea, Ike could tell she seemed nervous but excited.

Dread ate a pit into Ike's stomach. He forced himself to smile. He was too late.

•••

"I am in love with your daughter."

Marth let the words hang in the air while he silently berated himself. Really? "I am in love with your daughter?" Marth, what were you thinking? Marth thought. But it was too late to take back the words; besides, they were true.

He watched Dr. Mario in front of him carefully the way a hunted man would eye a tiger but the older man gave no sign that he wanted to talk. The glare on his new monocle obscured Marth from seeing one eye; the other looked patient. He was leaning back on the velvet couch, the ankle of one leg draped over the other thigh, his arms spread over the back of the loveseat.

Encouraged by that, Marth continued on. "Since business has been going consistently well ever since I opened AlteanWare I have been thinking about asking Peach her hand in marriage. I cannot do this without your approval."

"I see," Dr. Mario responded. He leaned forward, uncrossing his leg so that both feet touched the floor. He rested his elbows on his knees, bringing his fingertips to steeple in front of him as he regarded Marth. "I can't allow you to marry my daughter in good conscience."

Marth swallowed. "P-pardon?" he asked.

"You've been lying."

Marth felt his fingers grow cold at Dr. Mario's accusation. "I don't understand what you mean," he lied.

Dr. Mario furrowed his eyebrows and laced his fingers together, looking at them. "Did you honestly think that you could hide your identity, Lowell?"

It was the name that made the hair at the back of Marth's neck prickle upward. He had not heard the name ever since hearing of his Uncle's death in the papers. The inheritance had naturally passed to Marth, but he had not gone to the Lowell estate to pick it up. "I..." he swallowed.

Dr. Mario's hands were interlocked so tightly that they were shaking. "I will not allow Peach to marry a man who cannot tell her the truth, especially if it is a dark one."

Marth's face fell. Dr. Mario's mustache twitched. "Marth," he said, and it was soft, yielding. "You are a fine man. I can tell by the way you have worked so hard to distance yourself from your family. But running away from your problems will not solve them. You must confront them. That is the only way you may be able to carry out any sort of vengeance or retribution towards your family name. It may be unfair because you probably have never done anything wrong in your life, but that's what a family title is all about."

Marth flinched. "How would you know anything about my family name?"

Dr. Mario sighed. "The Lowells were always notorious, and nobody knows that better than I do. Strange..." he muttered more to himself, before he glanced at Marth again. "I will leave you with this; you can only marry Peach if she knows who you really are."

Marth thought about it over and over. But at this point what did he have left?

He squared his shoulders.

•••

"You don't sound very happy," Peach said.

Ike did not. Actually, now more than ever, what he really wanted was a drink but the damned tea house did not sell any liquor. He sighed, and rubbed a hand through his hair. "I'm happy that you're happy," he finally said. "How far along are you?"

"Well," Peach said, her cheeks turning pink. "I'd hazard a guess and say three months?" She stared at Ike, frowning slightly. "You're mad aren't you? I know it's not very proper of a lady to bed a man before marriage but..." she trailed off. Ike tried not to notice how she seemed to glow, thinking about it. "He's marrying me," she said firmly as if she was trying to convince herself. "He said he would."

"Of course he would," Ike muttered. After all, Marth was the nobleman. The gentleman, the one who knew how to charm all the ladies. The one with the dark, mysterious past. He practically was a man who every girl swooned over in books.

Whereas Ike was a mess. A working man, brilliant but not prominent in his firm, rumpled clothes and a recovering alcoholic. Girls did not fall in love with characters like him. "Ike?" Peach reached out across the table and rested her hand on top of his.

It was too much. Her kindness, her happiness, he flinched and swiped his hand away from her's. "I love you!"

It was a mistake and he knew it as he stared at her face grow slack in shock. She hadn't expected it. Her outstretched hand retracted slowly back into her lap. "What?" she whispered.

"Don't pretend like you didn't know, Peach. You were the only girl who... who cared about me. You and Marth," Ike said, his voice unexpectedly catching on his best friend's voice. He waited a few moments to collect himself. "He's a good man," he finally said and that wasn't a lie either. When it came down to it, Marth was healthier for Peach. What was Ike? Always abandoned, no family, not as much wealth, no manners...

"Ike, I... I'm so stupid, I should have known..."

He brushed her stammering aside. "You couldn't have known. You were happy. Happy people find it hard to spot unhappiness." Get over it, Ike, he commanded himself.

"Yes, but I'm so sorry," Peach said, and her eyebrows lifted upwards. "I didn't know and Ike, I do. I do love you! But just not the same way that I do Marth. I care about you. If he were not in the picture..." her voice trailed off with a promise that she didn't know was true.

He hated the way her face looked right now. As if it were all her fault. So he smiled, and told the lie she wanted to hear. "I know, Peach. Maybe you would have, maybe you wouldn't have. But the fact remains that Marth makes you happy and that you are pregnant with his child. It makes sense that you two are marrying each other. My best friends! I am so very happy, you know. If you ever need anything from me, I will only deliver. I owe you both my life."

Peach stared at him for one long moment. He could tell that she was trying to figure out how best to respond, but she had no words and for once he enjoyed her silence and the way her eyes seemed to glisten with unshed tears.

"Peach!" Marth's voice cut in between them, making Peach jolt. The moment was over and she surreptitiously rubbed at her eyes before she turned to joyfully greet her lover. "There's something I need to tell you. I should have told you a long time ago, but the truth was I was scared you would leave me."

"What is it, my love?" Peach asked, and for the first time Ike realized how her voice seemed to soften when she addressed him, as her voice turned to a caress. He tried not to notice these small things.

"Oh hello, Ike," Marth said, noticing him for the first time. Ike got up to leave but Marth ushered him in his seat. "You may stay. You already know this about me." He faced Peach and knelt on the floor, panting from running the whole way. "Peach, D'Aulnais is my maiden name."

Peach simply blinked at him. "Is this the part where you're going to tell me that you're a Lowell?"

For one long moment Marth could only stare at her with an uncomprehending look on his face. He then turned to Ike, sputtering, "Did you tell her?"

Ike held his hands up, conveying the gesture that he had nothing to do with it.

"Don't fault Ike," Peach said and gently put her hands on either side of Marth's face and directed his face to her's. "I'd been keeping up with Parisean news and I heard rumors that one more Lowell was alive and well in Nintaindo. I was curious to see who it was, so I did some research on old noble families in Parisea. I looked up the Lowell family tree and realized your mother was a D'Aulnais and that the last heir to the Lowell name was named Marth."

"So you know then..."

"And it doesn't matter to me, not one bit," Peach responded.

"Not even if I asked you to marry you?" Marth whispered and there was such wonder in his eyes that Peach smiled.

For a brief moment, Peach's eyes flitted towards Ike as if asking if this was all okay. Ike's heart was screaming no don't! But instead he found himself giving an imperceptible nod of his head. The look she gave him was one of utmost gratification before she got to her knees so that she could see Marth eye to eye. "Especially if you asked me to marry me," she said before placing her mouth over his.

Ike downed the rest of his tea.

He abhorred it.

•••

A year had done Parisea a lot worse. The bourgeoisie were nonexistant, the lucky having fled the country with a few belongings. The others who had stayed were dead, their carcasses hung from trees like overripe, rotten fruit. The proletariat roamed the streets, hungry and on the prowl. On the grimy walls were crude streaks of wine - or was that blood? - that spelled out MURDER all over the place. It was rumored that the king and queen had already been captured and sentenced to death. The revolution had begun and blood ran more freely than any other beverage.

In Blue Falcon, seemingly away from the frenzy, Samus sat at her usual booth, tapping her foot impatiently against the floor as she waited for her informant to deliver the news. At a table nearby, Captain Falcon sat, going through his billing book and listening to her heel. He thought that was certainly strange. Samus was mostly cold, shrewd and calculating. She hardly betrayed her true impatience by tapping her heel.

"I saw him about a year ago," the man said. Captain Falcon couldn't tell how he looked like due to the cloak he was wearing. But he was unnaturally tall and brawny, judging by his size, that much he could tell. "He's in Nintaindo, alive and happy. As a matter of fact, I think he's getting married soon if my sources are accurate, which they should be."

"Is that so? I was told all the Lowells were dead," Samus responded as she picked up her scarf again. Captain Falcon had not seen her take out the scarf and add to it in almost a year, but now it had resurfaced.

"That is hardly the case. He confirmed who he was when he went to court a year ago. He goes by his mother's name now - D'Aulnais. Probably why you haven't heard of him before," he responded. He sat on the seat opposite her's and slurped his drink up noisily. He sighed heavily, as though he hadn't had a good drink in a long while which was the case for most Pariseans nowadays.

Samus raised an eyebrow. She began to knit a few rows faster in deftly switching from yellow to red and back. "Why was he in court?"

"Rumor has it that his uncle wanted him executed so he could have all the fortune. So he hired a couple of thugs to claim they'd seen him doing a bit of treason which would automatically get him executed if he were found guilty. But by a stroke of luck, it seems he was cleared."

Samus snorted. "Why am I not surprised? Just another reason we must dispose of the Lowells. It really is a shame that Jaegar could not kill off Cornelius's son. If he's the spawn of that man, he must be just like his father. This just won't do." She abandoned her needlework for a moment, her emerald eyes burning like coals in the dim lighting. "I'm afraid we cannot do anything while he's in Nintaindo... their laws will protect him certainly. But," she said thoughtfully. "If we lured him here..." To the chaos, Falcon thought. Where the proletariat were biased against all nobles no matter if they had a clean record.

The man shifted carefully. "That can easily be arranged if we imprison one of his staff. As it is, the man who drove me here is none other than the man who used to be their chauffeur for many years. Upon Jaegar's death, Yoshi left their services. He has been under the Lowell's employment since Marth has been a child. Perhaps he may be compelled to come here, were he to learn that his employee was in danger."

Samus considered it for a moment. "I'm not entirely sure it would work. However, you have a point that this may be our best shot. Very well," she said in a tone of finality that made Captain Falcon, shudder. The voice she used was akin to the whistling noise a guillotine made upon being released to do its business. "Capture Yoshi, make him write a letter to Marth saying that he's been found guilty and will die."

"Why can't you do it?" the cloaked man demanded, but Samus silenced him with one look; Captain Falcon saw the cloaked man shrink away and saw the look of extreme madness in Samus's eyes, like wildfire that could never be put out.

"I have to find out any incriminating information on this Marth that I can. I need to make sure that this time, he won't be saved. This time he will not escape his due retribution."

The man dared not contradict Samus; instead, he nodded and got up, bowing. "Consider it done." He left the premises.

Samus was almost finished with her knitting by the time Captain Falcon gathered the courage to sit in the same seat the other man had been sitting earlier. "Are you alright?" he asked in a low voice.

Captain Falcon remembered the first time he'd met Samus. She had been working as a cook for a doctor. She had been scrawny, but those fire-green eyes stuck out. They were so starved, yet so powerful. Captain Falcon shuddered. He had thought after their five years of married life that she would somehow soften over the years, especially after Cornelius's death which she had been responsible for. But it had only made her thirst for blood even more insatiable.

"My job isn't done until all the Lowells pay," she had snarled.

There was so much rage there that it was hard to spot what really fueled it - the horror and sense of loneliness that only a woman who had lost her whole family could feel. Falcon understood a little of it; he had been an orphan himself for as long as he could remember. It was what had drawn him to her initially. But now he knew that she had never properly recovered from being the last of her family and maybe she never would.

Samus looked up at Falcon, and for a fraction of a second, he thought her eyes softened upon seeing him. But he realized he must have imagined it for a minute later she snipped the yarn off, signifying she was finally over. "I haven't been this fine in days. Soon my love, my work shall be complete."

"But you hardly know who this boy is. What if he's not like his uncle and father? What if he's more of his mother?" Falcon asked.

Samus fixed him with an insolent stare. "The Lowells must all pay for their crimes. Their blood must never tarnish humanity ever again. I don't care if this Marth is a saint. As long as he is alive, I will always hunt for him."

Falcon reached out across the table and grabbed her working hands making them grow still. "I'm worried about you. You're thirst for vengeance is alarming me. I fear it will kill you one day and I do not know what I will do without you."

She shrugged his hands away. "Don't be ridiculous," she snapped. "If anybody is dying, it won't be me."

Taking a deep breath, Falcon faced away from her; he didn't want her to see the hurt written all over his face. She would only call it weakness. Because as much as Falcon thought about just leaving Samus's little Stealth Strikers business she had going on the side, he realized he still needed her. He still admired the fire, even if he thought she was crazy and dangerous. He still wanted her.

It killed him that she so obviously didn't feel the same. He glanced sadly at the scarf she was knitting. A long time ago, four years ago when she had first started knitting it, he had naively thought it was for him.

But now he realized that it was just a list of blood.

The first name read CORNELIUS LOWELL.

The second read FRANK JAEGAR LOWELL.

And the last, the one she was currently knitting read, MARTH LOWELL.

Her conquests.

"Where are you going to go?" he asked. She often did before a "conquest." She had eradicated half the D'Aulnais's before they fled as well as some of the Kojimas. She had completely wiped out the Glaces, not to mention the Tazmilys, but before she went on a conquest, she disappeared off to do some research.

"This time I'm heading to Shadow Moses Asylum." She refused to elaborate further.

•••

As Samus had hoped, Marth did indeed react to the letter that ended up in his hands two weeks after his and Peach's marriage. "I can't believe he's even alive. But I must clear his name," Marth said, his voice muffled by the way his hands covered his face. For a long time, he sat there with Peach at his side, her arms circled around him. "I have to go back," he said finally.

It was as if Peach had been doused with icy cold water; she withdrew her hands swiftly from him and pressed her lips tightly together before saying, "You can't."

Marth sat back to face her, noting her reaction. "Why not?"

"As much as you do not want to be, you are a Lowell! Parisea is in chaos right now. There is no more order. They will kill you if they find out your identity."

Marth chuckled. "Don't be so melodramatic, my sweet."

Peach's face turned a deep shade of red. "I'm not being melodramatic, Marth. I'm being realistic. Don't go," she begged.

"Why not?" The same question determinedly being repeated. He tried to wrap a hand around her shoulder but she shrugged it off.

"Because we're married, because our child must know his father, because we're a family and that's more important than your quest for honor!" she snapped, before realizing what she had said, that she may have gone too far. "I'm just saying," she began in a more normal voice. "I'm just saying that this is your family now. You, me, and him," she said, placing a hand on her belly. She had just entered her second trimester and her belly was starting to swell.

Marth bit his lip; he did not know how to answer. He loved Peach with all his heart but there were some things that she just could not understand. She failed to understand that Marth needed this, it was in his blood. "Yoshi is my longtime friend. He was the only person who told me I should run and that he would cover for me. He and my mother were the ones who made me who I am. Peach, I've got to go."

Peach got up and walked stiffly towards the window. The afternoon sunlight was a muted gold color, its most radiant because it signified the beginning of its own setting. Then she said, "Fine, I'm coming with you. We will leave tonight." The way her voice seemed tight suggested that Marth could not argue his way out of this.

He didn't like the idea of Peach accompanying him to horrible place, but he knew it was necessary. "Of course," he responded.

By nightfall, the D'Aulnaises had packed all their belongings and had set up a carriage. Dr. Mario, Luigi, Zelda, and Link had also agreed to come along with them. They decided to take a carriage. "Don't want to take a car. We'll give them the impression that we're rich and they'll steal our things quicker," Dr. Mario had cautioned Marth when he had suggested using a car.

Before the six piled into their car, Marth telephoned his best friend. He had not spoken to Ike since the wedding, and he felt compelled to call him.

"Hello?" The voice slipped and slid into Marth's ear from the receiver, a stumbling block. Marth realized he was drunk which was strange. Ike had been mostly been sober for about half a year.

"Ike?"

"Oh, it's you," the voice sighed. "Yes this is Ike."

"I just wanted to let you know that I'm going to Parisea."

There was crackling silence on the other end. Then, "Is Peach going too?"

Marth pinched his nose, squeezing his eyes shut as he grasped the receiver in his hand a lot tighter than was necessary. "She insisted. I know you probably think I'm stupid."

"I always thought you were," Ike responded through the line.

Marth smiled a little at this. "I'm coming back, I know I am. But just in case if I'm not..." he trailed off. "Because there's a distinct possibility that it could happen, I want you to take care of Dr. Mario and Peach, understand?"

The crackling got obnoxiously louder - "I can't hear you," Ike said loudly. "Come home, then we'll talk, okay?" The crackling noise was suddenly replaced with dial tone.

Marth listened to it for some time before he gently replaced the receiver back into its place and walked outside his beloved little house. A shiver climbed up his arms as he boarded the squashed carriage. He tried to take Peach's hand, but she slid her hand away and looked away from him. She's mad at me, he realized. He hoped she wouldn't be for too long.

•••

"Don't go," Captain Falcon had begged Samus, but predictably she had shrugged his suggestion off. "This will only end in bad blood."

"Once the wound has been inflicted there is no way to prevent bad blood from spilling out," she shot back before leaving to the courthouse with a package. The package contained two very valuable items. She rode to the courtroom and once she was there, she handed the contents to her lawyer, David.

"You assured me that he would be here soon," David said, passing his hand over the stubble on his jaw. He stared at the contents looking apparently satisfied. "In a courtroom like Nintaindo this would not be enough. He's got to be tried here in Parisea."

They were sitting in the entrance of the courtroom, surveying anybody who would walk in. Apart from two men - one short and stocky, the other long and lean - nobody was around. "He will come," Samus said firmly.

As if her word was to be obeyed, the doors were ushered open and a handsome, lithe figure with blue hair swept in. On his heels was a blond man with strange, pointed ears.

"That's him," Samus whispered.

Snake lifted his eyes to two men and gave a slight nod.

The men who referred to themselves as Kirby and Lucario respectively, jumped to their feet and made a mad dash towards Marth, yelling, "Marth Lowell, you are under arrest for repeated crimes of manslaughter amongst other things. You have the right to remain silent."

Samus could hardly wipe the grin on her face as she watched the blue-haired man topple to the floor with a yell. He stood no chance. The blond man tried to shove Kirby off, Lucario's eyes flashed dangerously and barely had to touch the blond before he went flying across the room, hitting the wall and falling unconscious.

Finally, she thought to herself.

A/N: Ah, sorry, I had to cut this chapter off a bit. I had predicted a character death each chapter, but it seems like that won't be the case - Next chapter will be a lot more violent though.

Anyway, thank you for reading. We've got two chapters to go. Cross your fingers, because I'm not sure if I can finish in time! :o