Chapter 7: The Prince Abashed

The song pulled Marth out of his daydream. It was a sad song, a lament, but desperate too. He sat up on the bed, his heart beating faster. He knew that voice. He smiled, overjoyed. She had found him.

He pulled on his long gray boots, and ran out of the room. Stumbling along the hallway here and there, still not totally comfortable with his new limbs, he tore past a group of Waddle Dees and veered out into the courtyard. In the darkness he was running blind, and he fell as soon as he had crossed the drawbridge to the grassy slope leading to the sea. He pushed himself up, panting, looking around.

There! He stood again, brushing himself off, and made for the faint glow down by the water's edge. That golden light brought him to the shore, where Elice was singing the song calling him back. As he tripped over the sand, her voice faded until there was nothing but the pounding of the surf and his own panting breaths.

The water was choppy tonight. Something in her song had aroused the waves. Suddenly his joy was dampened as he saw the look she was giving him – that look that was all too similar to their father's expression of disappointment and anger. He approached her slowly, his head down but meeting her eyes, like a puppy with his tail between his legs.

"Marth," she sighed, sheathing Falchion and reaching out to him. He ran the rest of the way to her, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his face in her shoulder as she held him tightly. As angry as she probably was with him, he was still happy to see her. He had hoped she would figure out where he'd gone.

"What have you done?" she pulled back and looked him up and down. "Oh, Marth, what were you thinking?"

He looked into her eyes, wishing he could make her understand.

"What do you have to say for yourself?"

He dropped to his knees, and wrote a message in the wet sand next to her curled indigo tail. "Marth… Oh, oh no… How could you?" Her harsh tone brought a spray of water up to bombard his face, and he sneezed. "You gave up your voice? What a… what a stupid thing to do!"

She was furious now, and he backed away a little bit. He scratched out another note. "I understand you were desperate, but this? Do you know what you have done?"

He wrote something else.

"This isn't just about that. I know I can visit you! What I mean is, your voice! You gave it to a powerful wizard who isn't rumored to be the nicest person. Who knows what he could do with that?"

Marth frowned. He realized she was upset, but really, that seemed like grasping at straws. What use could Ganondorf have for his voice, and how useful would that voice be if it wasn't even in his throat anymore?

Elice took a few calming breaths, sinking back into the water to do so. When she emerged again, she was looking at Marth with such sorrow that he could hardly stand to meet her gaze. "What's done is done. Whether anything comes of this, it will be your responsibility to stop it."

Marth nodded. Of course he would, in the very unlikely event that anything would happen.

"Whatever Ganondorf plans to do, it's probably nothing close to what Father will do once he has you back…"

The prince shook his head. There was no way he was going back.

"He will find out where you are," she said. "Once he does, all bets are off. He's going to come for you."

He shook his head again. He didn't care.

Elice reached out to hug her brother again, and he willingly embraced her. "You poor, stupid boy…" she sighed, and he grinned despite himself. He had done very little in his life by way of rebellion. Now was his chance to pay his father back for everything. "I suppose you want Falchion back?"

He nodded, standing up straight again. She withdrew the sword and held it out to him. "Take it, but be warned that you may not…" she trailed off as Marth gripped the handle, but fell back, his hand clutched to his chest. He looked at the blade as if it was a snake. "I thought that might happen."

Falchion was an ancient and sacred sword, used by their ancestor Anri – the greatest hero of all the mer kingdoms. It became a part of whoever wielded it, but it had been forged to remain loyal to the merfolk. Those of other races could not touch it. "You're no longer a merman," Elice reminded Marth, and his expression crumbled in despair. He hadn't thought he would ever see Falchion again, and now having it reject him was a cruel blow. His arm still tingled from the electric sensation.

"I wish you would come home," Elice said. "You could wield Falchion again. I could go ask the wizard for your voice back. Why don't you stop this foolishness?"

With a heavy heart, Marth turned away. He wouldn't go back.

"I figured as much… But brother, please… Be careful."

He grasped her arms again, pulling her to him. Surely, she didn't have to go already.

"I'll come see you again," Elice said, glancing up at the hill. "I must go; someone's coming. Listen for my song, alright?"

Marth nodded, looking over his shoulder through the darkness and seeing the glint of metal in the moonlight, high in the sky. He let his sister's hands slip from his reluctantly, and watched as she retreated under the water. Falchion's glow dimmed and faded, swallowed by the black waves glistening silver under the moon.

"Sapphire." Marth turned as Meta Knight landed next to him. "Sword reported that he saw you running from the castle. What's wrong?"

Looking down at the knight, Marth felt suddenly disoriented. He sank to the ground, closing his eyes. His home was lost forever to him. Hadn't Ganondorf said he could never return by means of the potion? Even if he wanted to, he couldn't. Everything familiar to him was now hundreds of feet below the waves, and now he was dependent on the kindness of a person he had been observing for only a few months. It had been a one-sided relationship, and Marth was beginning to realize that he knew less about the knight than he thought. His sister had been right – he was stupid.

A gloved hand steadied him, holding onto his shoulder as concerned yellow eyes met his. Marth gripped the knight's hand, leaning closer to him. Whatever was drawing him to Meta Knight, he had to trust in it. He'd come this far; there was no going back.

"Come," Meta Knight held out his arms, and Marth climbed on, huddling close to the knight as he was lifted into the air. As much as he wanted to give in to the guilt, he just couldn't when he felt the knight's warm embrace. Even the burn of cold metal through his clothes, where he made contact with the mask, was welcome. He still wasn't sure how he felt about his host. Admiration, most definitely; and perhaps loyalty. Why the knight inspired such feelings, he didn't know. He just knew that every day spent with him cemented his resolve to stay no matter what.

When they returned to the castle, he walked right back to Meta Knight's room, suddenly exhausted. Everything was going to be fine, though, he reasoned with himself. There was nothing Ganondorf could do with a disembodied voice. His sister could visit whenever she wanted, and his father would never find out where he'd gone.

MWMWMW

After a few days of eating the land-dweller's food, it became a problem for the former merman. For his entire life, he had eaten nothing but raw fish, shellfish, and seaweed. Though he enjoyed the flavors of cooked meat, hearty stews, simmered vegetables, and – best of all – cake, it wasn't long before he grew ill after every meal.

"Sir, I don't think he's feeling well…" Blade said one evening, looking at Marth's shivering form curled up on Meta Knight's bed.

"Hm… Sick again…" Meta Knight had just come back from a quick errand for the king. He placed a hand on Marth's forehead, testing for a fever, but the prince was as cool to the touch as he always was. "Are you in pain?"

Marth nodded, balling up tighter as his arms clutched his stomach. As a child, he had once caught and eaten a small, unfamiliar fish and gotten gravely ill from it, learning later that it was poisonous. This reminded him of that time. He trembled, shutting his eyes tightly as he tried to ignore the feeling.

"He seems to get like this almost every night," Sword said.

Meta Knight's hand remained on Marth's forehead, and he absently brushed aside slightly damp bangs before realizing what he was doing. He withdrew, clearing his throat, glad that Sword and Blade had glanced away and weren't commenting on that gesture. "Maybe it's the food. They must eat something very different in his country."

Marth nodded again. Very different, indeed.

"We'll just have to find things that don't make you ill."

"Maybe he can get used to the food little by little, if we can find something similar," Blade suggested.

"What kinds of things did you eat before?" Meta Knight asked.

The prince didn't know how to answer. He shivered again, wanting nothing more than to fall asleep.

And so began the search for something he could stand. After such a painful bout of sickness, Marth wasn't inclined to try anything new again. The next morning, Meta Knight brought him into the village to look at the market. "Do you see anything you recognize?"

Marth immediately went to the fish stand, where Kawasaki was selling the excess catch from that morning. "Welcome!" the chef greeted, and Marth bowed to him in return. "Oh, so this is the one… Sir Meta Knight, I'd heard you had a foreign guest."

"Yes. He's staying with me at the castle."

"Even though you don't often come to my restaurant, be sure to bring him by sometime! I can introduce him to the local cuisine."

Meta Knight nodded. "He doesn't seem to be able to tolerate most of our food. I'm bringing him here to show me what he normally ate at home."

"Oh, I thought he was rumored to have amnesia?" Kawasaki said, leaning over the stall and speaking quietly.

Meta Knight didn't answer. "You like to eat fish?" he asked Marth.

The prince nodded, though he didn't like the thought of going back to eating seafood all the time.

"Hey, I know!" Kawasaki said. "Come in for lunch today, and I'll prepare all sorts of fish dishes! Nobody's buying anything today anyway, so it looks like I'll have extra."

This didn't sound like too bad a prospect, and Meta Knight agreed. They returned later that day. Sword and Blade tagged along, claiming to be worried about Marth's wellbeing but mostly just glad for a chance to eat out for once. "Welcome, welcome!" Kawasaki greeted them at the door. Police Chief Borun was also there, eating a sandwich.

"Oh, Sir Meta Knight!" the rotund cappy waved in greeting. "I don't think I've ever seen you here."

"This is the first time!" Kawasaki said, leading the foursome to a table. "So, ready for a tour of all kinds of seafood?"

Marth looked around, interested in the décor. He'd never been to a "restaurant" before, though he gathered it was someplace to eat. "We should do this more often," Blade said.

"Even if Kawasaki's cooking isn't the best…" Sword muttered.

"You may spend your salaries however you want," Meta Knight said. Sword and Blade looked at each other; just because Meta Knight said they could didn't mean he wouldn't disapprove of what he saw as frivolous spending.

"But if it turns out that Sapphire can only eat things prepared here, we'll have no choice," Blade said.

Meta Knight didn't say anything. Those two were getting very cheeky lately. Then again, he supposed there was no real harm in it. Life had to be more than discipline, after all.

The first dish was brought out, four small bowls of vinegared octopus and vegetables. Marth sniffed once and almost gagged, but he took several bites anyway. "No good, huh?" Sword asked, pushing his own portion aside. "I don't care for it, either."

"I don't think it's awful," Blade said.

The next course was fried fish with thin slices of potato. "They call this fish and chips!" Kawasaki announced.

This one wasn't so bad, but the oil used to fry it was a little much for Marth. He allowed Blade to finish his share. During the third course (grilled fish, which was quite to his liking), Marth glanced over at Meta Knight. Somehow his food was disappearing, but he never seemed to touch it – as usual.

The fourth course was the one that stole Marth's heart. He examined the strange assortment of shapes and colors – two lumps of rice topped with strips of raw fish, wrapped with something that smelled like seaweed; and four little rolls with fish in the center of rice and the same thin seaweed. There was a faint scent of vinegar, but it wasn't nearly as strong as the first dish.

"Special sushi sampler!" Kawasaki said. "Tuna, yellowtail, squid, and shrimp."

With one bite, Marth was in love. The fish and seaweed were familiar to him, but the rice and additional flavorings added something exotic. He finished his helping in no time at all.

After paying their bill (and adding some extra for the second plate of sushi Marth asked for), the four returned to the castle. Marth went right to work with his writing, something he'd been practicing with Meta Knight's help. Fumu had even offered to teach him some, having discovered an aptitude for instructing others.

There was a notepad that contained a list of Marth's favorite words. Below "Meta Knight", "Sword", "Blade", "Kirby", "Teacher", "Bath", "Training", and "Water", he added another in large letters: "Sushi".