Hello, all... It's me again. Like stated in the three chapters before this, I do not own Marth, Roy, Fire Emblem, or Super Smash Brothers. So... if I do not ever find myself needing to defend against a lawsuit, that would be wonderful.

Welcome back to In Writing a Letter, my lovely readers! I'd like to shout out to my wonderful reviewers, and a big thank you goes to my beta The Tears of Ages! For this chapter, we have yaoi warnings. It's not so graphic as to go over the rating for this story, but there is clearly something going on--therefore, not recommended for anyone who finds this type of material squicky. For the rest of you who don't mind so much-- enjoy!

I feel like I'm floating on nothing—like there are strings suspending me from the sky, strings I can't feel. Marth, where are you? I wish I could see you, but I can't see anything right now—it's too dark.

It's almost like I'm floating in that poison from the needle that kid stabbed me with—gods curse him! He's definitely long gone by now, and I don't know if I even got anything worth stealing from him… Hell, it hurts. The stupid needle actually hurts… I don't believe it.

Huh… I think I can hear Marth's voice. But why would he be talking to me? I thought he was busy with arranging that advisor's funeral… hmm, where'd that pouch go? I can't find it… I thought it was right there! Maybe that kid came back and took it… but no, I remember I heard heavy footsteps that sounded like the castle guards. If he came back he would've gotten caught…

Who turned on the lights? I can't see anything at all, it's too bright.

… When I get out of this place, I'm definitely going to kill whoever's making me drink this vile stuff… Marth tastes a whole lot better, although I suppose that was because I could hear him telling me how nice it felt to have my mouth—wait… I'm not going there right now!

I thought I was going to die. What's happening?

"... Roy? Can you hear me?"

… Hell, it's either that awful tasting liquid or the poison that's making me hallucinate. I could have sworn I just saw a god who looked exactly like Marth…

Wait… is that really Marth? He sounds different…

Roy's eyes opened slowly, wincing as his dilated pupils took in far too much light for comfort. Seeing Marth standing at the side of the bed he was lying on, he tried to sit up quickly and nearly passed out again.

"Careful—the poison isn't entirely out of your body yet. What happened?"

"I… there was a boy posing as a page who told me you had been exposed to some kind of danger, so I got worried, and I ran down to the throne room. After that, when the healers said that they didn't think anyone had sent a page after me, I got suspicious and confronted him, but he got me with a needle and ran off. I took something before he managed to get away, but I don't know if it was even useful…" The general was cut off by the prince's gentle laugh.

"It's all right, Roy. You somehow managed to take the antidote from him—and your luck must have been good today. Not only did you obtain the antidote, but there was a written recipe for the antidote as well, and the boy's orders. Everything is fine here for now." Roy thought he heard something in the prince's voice that was off, but dismissed it as simply being still affected by the poison.

"Your Highness… what happened to me afterwards, though? Why am I here?"

"We went in the direction of your room and found you lying on the floor of a corridor with the leather pouch you took from our would-be assassin. So we brought you here, to the healers' bay… this would be the second time you were in here within the space of two days, am I correct?" The monarch smiled gently, as if to say he was only teasing.

"… Yes, your Highness."

Something in Marth's expression hardened at the young general's refusal to stop using his title. "We're in the healers' bay… here, both of us are equal. Do call me by name…" It was a little peculiar, the way something in his eyes remained utterly confused as to why he was so angry about Roy addressing him in such a manner. Wasn't it supposed to be this way? But… the whims of princes were made to be carried out, so it seemed. Thankfully Marth was not the type to wind the kingdom around his little finger for his personal enjoyment.

"I'm sorry, your—I mean, Marth."

"That's much better… now, how do you feel, Roy?"

"I feel all right… I don't feel capable of fighting off any armies, but I think I can get up now… thank you."

"Would you accompany me to my chambers, then? There is something I need to discuss with you that must be said in private."

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Roy felt disgusted with himself as he realized that even with the antidote in his system the poison still wreaked some havoc with the rest of his body. His legs felt as if made of jelly, and whenever he took a step he swayed slightly, feeling dizzy and light-headed. The general was forced to lean on the prince all the way to his bedroom, where he was made to sit down on the bed before he fell.

"What was it you wished to speak to me about, my prince?"

"There is a rebel faction who has mobilized against us, Roy. They wish to eradicate the royal family's line and 'raise a new Altea from the ashes of the old', as they put it. The statement they sent claims that their people are everywhere, even in this castle itself. Will you stand by me?"

"Always, my prince—is there need to ask?" 'Did you even forget that I swore my heart and sword to you for all eternity?' the younger man thought, his eyes betraying only the slightest hint of distress.

"Thank you, my general…" Almost absently Marth laid a kiss on the red-haired swordsman's forehead. Roy blinked, and while his eyes were closed a voice whispered, "Stop."

Then he opened his eyes, and Marth's lips left his forehead and pressed themselves to his in a hungry kiss. Immediately he responded in kind, feeling overwhelming relief wash over him. He remembered! Yet… had there not been a god's voice in the air before this? Pushing such doubts aside, the general let himself fall into the grip of his passion, all thought abandoned.

After the kiss was broken, the prince licked away the solitary tear that ran down his general's face. Nimble fingers that remembered well sought out the buckles and clasps that fastened their clothing, and soon both men were completely exposed to each other's eyes.

Trailing butterfly kisses down his abdomen, Marth's tongue dipped into Roy's navel, evoking a startled groan and spreading a smile across the prince's face. For the young general, this was nothing new—except for how especially eager the prince seemed to be, doing this. Then he could not even wonder about that, for cool slick fingers ventured downwards and pressed in. He could only gasp, writhe and moan helplessly, and sob (however uncharacteristically) for having missed the feeling of Marth's skin against his own—and the prince did not say a word, swallowing both of their cries of pleasure with a deep kiss as they flew over the brink.

Marth woke up with a start to find himself completely devoid of his normal sleepwear—or any clothing, for the matter. It was only the beginning of evening, so the calmly ticking clock told him, and the lingering smell of sweat and passion told him everything else.

But who had been his lover? That was easily explained by the warm body he felt at his side—and when he turned to look, he found his beautiful general lying there, still held in sleep's gentle grasp. 'What… what happened?' The prince slipped quietly out of bed, clearly ill at ease now. Pulling on a bath robe, he walked into the bathroom to cleanse himself—and perhaps remove the fog from his memory while he washed.

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Meanwhile, Roy opened his eyes with a sated smile on his face. He felt… triumphant. It was like he'd just managed to beat the gods at their own game. "He remembers me," the general murmured, wanting to suddenly spring out of bed and shout this from the highest tower in the castle—though he doubted that his lover would really approve of doing so.

Marth's half of the bed was empty now, he discovered, but still warm. He was likely bathing, and preparing to go into the throne room again to hold audiences with whomever wished to make their concerns clear to him… but of course, he'd come back in and kiss him properly awake, first. Maybe they'd go for another quick round… though that would make the prince late. No, that wouldn't do… maybe he'd simply please his love with his hands or mouth…

The young general was so lost in his daydream that he missed Marth's return to the bedroom entirely. "Good evening, love."

'Praise the powers that be, he really does remember me!' Forgetting about his state of undress, Roy sprang up out of bed and flung his arms around the monarch in a tight embrace. "Gods, I missed you, my prince… I love you. I thought I'd lost you forever… but I'm glad you remember me now…"

The prince really had had no clue why he had called the general "love." For the matter, it was even more puzzling to have such a passionate declaration made to him, and to make matters worse the young man hadn't a stitch of clothing on his body at the moment. But when Roy gently tugged him down for a kiss, he allowed it—he knew his kisses from somewhere, and he liked them, though he didn't know why. After all, most of his advisors would frown on such a thing… yet Marth could not bring himself to care at this point. After all, advisors only gave advice—it was really up to the ruler to make the decisions, was it not?

Breaking the kiss for air, the prince smiled somewhat distractedly and asked, "I apologize, my general, but… please, tell me what happened? I woke besides you, and I doubt our sleeping together was platonic at all…"

He wished instantly that he could take back his words. The young general's face fell, and his tight embrace instantly slackened and fell away. "Oh… we… I was under the impression that we were making love." The utter disappointment in his voice made the prince's heart wrench painfully. Marth wanted to hold Roy closely, tightly, and not let him go until he understood that he didn't want to hurt him… but his protocol stood in the way, and for a second he did nothing.

It was one second too long. Without waiting for the monarch to explain anything, the general pulled on his clothing and bowed deeply, subserviently. "If you require my services in any other way, your Highness, please call on me," he said, ice coating his otherwise immaculately polite tone. Then the young man fled, presumably back to his own chambers.

'What have I done?' Marth asked himself silently, wishing that he were not so irreplaceable. If he could have, he would have taken Falchion to himself at that moment… it seemed only fitting punishment for making the beautiful general believe that he had only used him. 'I cheapened his declaration of love to me, I hurt him… gods, I don't deserve to live. He deserves better…'

Then, as if a godsend to make his life more complicated, he remembered… the taste of Roy's skin beneath his lips, the general's back arched and his head thrown back in the clutches of ecstasy. He could see it before his eyes, as if it had happened at that moment—the way Roy's exposed neck begged for him to taste it, and how arousing the younger man's gasps and cries of rapture were… And then he remembered too, how he felt as if he were not in control of his own body… how a strangely familiar voice with a laugh like ringing church bells had taken control of his body, how he could not move a muscle without the voice's consent. And when this had happened, the general's clear sapphire eyes were closed, so that he could not see when the prince's blazed with otherworldly light for that split-second. He did not know…

It left him in an even deeper pit of guilt. His conscience told him that if he had no control, it was not his fault… but hadn't the general said something about him finally remembering? Perhaps he had been his lover, and now—he could not remember. 'Some lover I am,' thought the prince, beginning to unabashedly hate himself. 'He tells me that he loves me, and all I can do is ask what happened… Do I even deserve to exist?'

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If he had been in the throne room at the moment, he would have met the page who had frantically been trying to locate either him or the general with another message from the Embyrr Faction. If he had been there… well, he would not have been so vulnerable. But here he was in his bedroom, dressed in nothing but a thin shirt and plain leather breeches, completely helpless. Falchion sat propped up in its sheath some five feet away from the bed where he lay, his eyes closed, utterly loathing his own tactlessness despite the insistent voice in his mind that told him it was not his fault. He squelched the voice immediately, telling himself that an inability to remember was no excuse for being insensitive.

Perhaps if he had not been so lost in thought, he would have noticed the two masked figures garbed in black stealing quietly into his room. He certainly noticed when one took a pillow (the one which Roy had slept on, ironically) and pressed it down harshly over his face. Managing a single deep inhale before the pillow made contact, the prince attempted to struggle for a second before realizing that he was only wasting his breath, and quieted, subduing his instinctive panic. He only prayed that someone would come to his aid (as embarrassing as it was to have to be constantly rescued) before he ran out of air.

It wasn't until about a minute had passed with the pillow over his face that the grimmer train of thought emerged. What if no one came?

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The general cursed as he realized he'd left a rather important personal article in the prince's room. Why on earth he'd chosen to tuck it into his armor was beyond him—but no matter. He simply had to go get it… and as he turned around and began heading back the way he'd come, he realized how eerily silent the castle was. It was far too early for everyone to be asleep…

Two corridors had come and gone, and there had not been a sign of life anywhere. As he neared Marth's quarters, he heard a pair of strange voices arguing—and he knew that something was definitely up. 'Oh no…' Roy unsheathed the Sword of Seals and broke into a sprint, hoping that he had not been too slow.

A/N: And chapter four is brought to a close. I'm sorry... I couldn't wait to update. I will go write the fifth chapter when I can... I promise.