Hell-o, jellies. My apologies for the long chapter posting time lapse! I've been loaded up with a ton of shit and it's been keeping me from writing and all my other hobbies and what not. I don't think I need to go into the details of that. What I can say though is that a current WIP writing, called The Speed of Light for those who didn't hear about it, has also been eating my time. When I had spare moments I was working on writing the most important parts of it before I'd lose the feel for it. It was dream based, and we all know how dreams eventually fade from memory if not written down properly or unless they were bizarre enough to be memorable. Anyway, if you're curious about it, you can read more on my profile. On to Blue Blood now, I hope you enjoy this new chapter~

And of course, disclaimers, Marth and Ike and Fire Emblem are not miiiiiiiiiine. And neither is Super Smash Bros Brawl, I'm very sure everyone already knows.

He felt disturbed. He was the king of Altea. There were none who would defy him. It had been so for the past two years since he had assumed the throne. There were those who were loyal to him. Some out of fear, some out of admiration, yet others out of wonder and thirst for his power. He had conjured countless minions that were bound to him by magic. Surely he had proven himself? Wasn't this what he had wanted? Hadn't he wanted to prove that he wasn't weak? That he was enough, that he wouldn't lag behind, that he could keep up? Surely having singlehandedly put an entire kingdom down at his feet was the ultimate goal to achieve in such a scrambled and torn country that was set on hunting out the last of its original royals? He stood from his throne and began pacing the length of the room. No. This was all wrong. It was empty, there was no satisfaction. He hadn't proven anything to anyone. All he had proven was that he was magically powerful and sneaky enough to weasel his way onto the throne and control those around him. He ripped off the rightful crown of the last Blue Blood, the one who should have been king instead of him, and cast it away from himself with as much strength as he could. It hit off the far wall and rolled, then clattered to the floor beside the throne, undented, almost as if it had been made in such a way so that tosses and throws could not harm it, as if the smith had expected it to be abused. He threw a disgusted look at it, the throne, the room. This was not what he had wanted. He had not wanted this hideous imprisonment his rash actions had trapped him into. He vaguely heard footsteps in the hall. Likely a councilman to come with complaints about one problem or other he expected the king to right. Perhaps even a petition for the permission to have official rights to continue hunting the true heir. He refused to allow the sigh of exhaustion to make its way out through his raw, bleeding lips. He stepped forward and retrieved the crown, placing it back on his head, and sat back down on the throne, creating the image the councilman was expecting to see when he entered. He reminded himself just as the doors were opening that as king, he shouldn't be chewing his lip in front of any subjects. He would likely be reprimanded by the sour, wrinkled old councilman for doing such an improper thing.

»»««»»

Ike felt tired. Not only had he been having a hard time trying not to squish his new fluffy pet in his sleep, but this night had also happened to be one of those in which he'd keep waking up every time he started snoring - which wasn't all too rare. And there was travel. All day. As Chrom had predicted, the going wasn't easy and it didn't get any easier. Stops were less frequently made because there were far less of those safe, roomy spots for everyone to sit at. If the privy was in demand, whoever the needer would go off where the others could not see, relieve themselves as is required, and come back, catching up with the others as they went. There was no time to stop. At night everyone would try to wedge themselves in somewhere as tightly as they could to keep from falling and hope they wouldn't toss or turn in their sleep enough to send themselves flying off the mountain. Eating was also done on the go. It went on in such a manner for the next two days.

Eventually they reached the top and then began on the descent. It made everyone feel a good deal better and then the going did, painfully slowly but surely, get easier. Lucina's spirits were especially high and she kept babbling cheerfully about visiting the chocolate Ogre and disclosed more tales of which the other two had not spoken, making Ike wonder just what was truth and what was fable. It seemed that this Doctor Napper was really not a doctor at all but nonetheless was still capable of anything. Saving from drowning, cooking, ruining hairdos, standing on his head for an hour to think, eating an entire meal that could have easily fed twelve others. The list went on. He seemed to be most famous for associating with The Hand. He would hold one hand up to his ear, holding it at the wrist with the other hand, and he would decide the doom of naughty personages with it. His hand would slowly but violently begin shaking and he would roar incoherently something that vaguely sounded like, "He knows what you did and he is angry!" and then proceed to mock strangle Marth for whatever crime it was he'd committed.

"He would probably like your camel jokes," Lucina reassured him, "after all, he also likes having a good laugh now and then."

"Mmhmmn, that's comforting, I guess," was Ike's absentminded reply. He was hardly paying attention to Lucina's blather. He was watching Marth, asking no one in particular the questions that entered his mind about the young prince. What else had he not seen yet? There was obviously much more to his personality than Ike would have guessed at the start. At first he simply appeared to be an innocent, almost shallow and ignorant sort of person with an edge of fun to him. Now, however, he'd shown that he could be angry yet forgiving. It added some depth to the way Ike saw him.

»»««»»

It was a few more weeks before they finally left those cruel, cruel mountains behind and could start thinking about forgetting constantly sore rumps and aching backsides. And the cold. It was about one fourth of the way into summer in the valley on the other side and blistering hot. Ike felt very tempted to remove his shirt in the heat, but for the sake of decency around a lady did not. Marth however, did not seem to feel a need for decency and openly walked about without a tunic as he worked on removing its sleeves.

After that they braced themselves and prepared to enter the marshy, boggy swamp that marked the beginning of Ogre territory. Because of the poor light in the swamp, it was hard to tell, but Ike thought Marth spent a good deal of the time slogging through gooey mud with his face looking very disgusted and blue.

However, there was something that bothered Ike. "One question, Chrom," he said, squelching over to him.

"Yes, Ike?" Asked Chrom cheerfully with equally squalchy sounds and he continued sogging through the knee-high sucking mud.

"If we're aiming for the capital of Altea, why are we going the opposite direction and into Ogre territory at that?" Ike slapped a fly away that was buzzing around his face and insistently trying to fly down his nose.

"Because we need to get Falchion, the royal sword, from Doctor Napper." Chrom said in a conversational manner as he smacked a tiny spider off his arm. "Nice aim," he added to Ike on the side.

"Thank you. Why does he have it though?" Ike continued, ignoring the loud roar of disgust Lucina gave out in the background somewhere and then the loud squelchy slaps that followed as she muttered about an insolent slug.

"He's been keeping it safe for years. It needed to be kept somewhere until Marth would be old enough to make use if it."

"I see-"

"EWWW, LUCINA, THAT IS SO GROSS!" Marth's shout interrupted Ike in midsentence. "Just because it was on you it doesn't mean that you had to flick it on to me. I don't like slugs any more than you do, you know!"

"It got on..." Lucina turned to look at Marth and started to giggle violently. "It slapped you in the collarbone?" She asked through more giggles.

"Yes, it did," Marth frowned, wiping some of the remaining slime from the spot with his hand. "Your aim is a lot better than you thought." This made Lucina only giggle harder as she went on slopping through the muck and Marth couldn't help laughing too.

"Well," said Chrom, looking greatly amused.

"I'm glad it wasn't me," Ike chuckled, "but anyway, yes, I do see now what the point of all this slogging is."

"Good," Chrom nodded.

"Indeed," said a voice behind them. And then Ike felt a blow connect with the back of his head in midturn and the world went dark.

»»««»»

It was always the same and nothing changed. Everyone always wanted something from him, expected everything of him. There were so many people demanding he let them have formal approval to hunt down the blue blood heir. So many were demanding that they had the rights to it and that it needed to be official. Tch. Like as if it wasn't public enough already. They didn't need his say and he didn't care to give it. He was tired of hearing about blue bloods every day. Even so, his councilors were also all pressing on him. Sign the papers, sign them. Prove yourself a true ruler, listen to the people like you should. It's a good cause. Do it, go on.

But he didn't want to prove himself. Not in that way at least. He had just wanted to prove himself to the one person he had ever cared about.

Chapter seven, end! Have any guesses on who the false king might be? Leave a review if you think you know! And like always, thanks for reading guys! Please stay tuned for chapter eight! Bye bye~