Haosbattler, thank you for your guess. You were close! Very close! When I first started writing the story, it was supposed to be Roy. But as the story's been going, it's narrowly been changed to a different character who corresponds better by role and other happenings so far. They just seemed to fit when I thought about it, so that's why. However, Roy does finally make his appearance in this chapter, so.. yeah.

As a side note, this story doesn't have much of a plan. A slight storyline is drawn out in my head, but that's about all. Details and whatever else whatnot is made up as I go along, so I really don't know exactly how this story will end.

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.


When Ike began to regain his consciousness, it was to being shaken and getting his cheeks slapped, Lucina's frantic voice asking him if he could open his eyes. He felt very muddy and slimy and like his ears were probably clogged from all the muck that had gotten in them. Which was probably true after slapping down into the mook like that. He reached up and wiped as much gooey slime from his eyelids as he could with his filthy sleeve before attempting to squint up at Lucina, his eyes tearing from the bits of grime that still made their way into the corners.

She looked like a muddy, swamp banshee midget, her hair hanging down in stringy dirty clumps, the brown covering any natural color there was beneath that.

"You're awake," she breathed, immensely relieved, but her voice betrayed dreading undertones.

Ike squelched up into a sit and looked about, searching for Chrom and Marth's mud-covered figures. Chrom was crouching several paces away, covered in brown clumpy gunk and looking much the same as Lucina save for his hair and size, studying something in the muck before him. His expression was tight and grim. And Marth was nowhere to be seen. Ike felt his stomach sop down into the muddy depths of the swamp and slosh around somewhere with the slugs.

"Whoever it was who attacked us was clearly only after Marth," Chrom said, rising from his crouch. "Lucina, go with Ike to Doctor Napper and get that sword. I'm going to follow their trail."

Lucina looked up from Ike to Chrom. Biting her lip, she nodded, determination then setting into the curve of her mouth and the look in her eyes hardening. She rose to her feet then and ran to Chrom, throwing her arms around him in a tight embrace.

"Good luck," she murmured into Chrom's dirty shirtfront. Ike then felt embarrassed to watch, even if they weren't doing much more than hugging each other, Chrom assuring Lucina he'd be back and that Marth would be alright, caressing her cheek and pushing her muddy hair away from her face, then clutching her tightly to his chest before releasing her. He left, and Lucina's determined expression was back.

"Let's press on," she turned back to Ike. "We probably don't have very much time before everyone finds out Falchion's location and will be swarming there to get it first."

"Right.." Ike scrambled sloppily to his feet. Looking up, he found Lucina watching him in a quiet considering manner. "Something wrong? Well, other than, you know..." He waved his hand vaguely in the direction Chrom had left in.

"Not particularly," she bit her lower lip, chewing on it slightly in thought. "Do you think you could do me a favor, Ike?"

It was his turn to watch her consideringly, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb. "Depends on what you plan to ask."

"It's nothing too awful or difficult to preform. I just can't do it properly on my own. Are you careful and skilled with using a dagger?"

»»««»»

It was dark. Heavily dark, somehow. He couldn't tell where he was, but he felt very uncomfortable in his current position and simply wanted more than anything to be able to get comfortable again and just fade back into the dull, dreamless sleep that provided an escape from the vicious pounding in his head and the bitter taste in his mouth. He also smelled fresh sweat, which wasn't very pleasant either. Shifting again, he let out a note of pain he barely noticed as he tried again to get into a better position despite the agony that shot through his arms and shoulder blades when he did so.

"Ah, waking up now, are you?" It was a voice somewhere nearby. A rough hand pressed to his forehead, which although it felt cold in comparison, did little to help the splitting sensation in his skull. "It's about bloody time you finally did. It's awfully dull talking to a lump that's dead to the world, you know?"

It was then that it occurred to his groggy mind that the reason it was so heavily dark was because his eyes were closed. He struggled to open them. After a minute or two of several failed attempts, he decided to give up with an exhausted sigh. He was then struck with the back of a hand quick and hard across the face, so painfully that his entire body jerked as his eyes flew wide open and he gaped in shock at the person who'd slapped him. It was a youth who looked to be not much older than himself. He had orange hair that was kept out of his eyes by the headband he wore. His eyes were a dull gray-blue, and yet full of life somehow, willful and mischievous. His clothes were simple, tight, and of dull coloring, mainly washed-out looking blues, grays, and browns. His feet were large, and on them he wore large, worn brown boots. On his hands he wore simple fingerless gloves.

"You're staring," the fire-haired boy informed him. "Your mouth is open and going to catch dust and flies."

He shut his mouth. He then struggled to sit, in which action he was aided by this stranger. He looked down at himself and found that his arms were twisted behind his back, bound by ropes at the wrists. He stared over his shoulder at the bonds contemplatively. Something was tickling in his brain, something he couldn't quite get a grip on. It was something important and had a great deal of something to do with why he was tied up. He stared back again at the ginger who was watching him.

Wait. He'd seen him before, hadn't he? He was somehow vaguely familiar. He decided to ask a question.

"Who are you?" His voice cracked from being parched, and he coughed, unused to talking after however long it was that he'd been asleep.

"Me name?" The youth chuckled. "Remember yours first, then maybe I'll tell you mine."

Looking down at himself again, he realized that he could not, for the moment at least, remember his name. He looked back up, wetting his lips and stayed silent.

"Don't worry about it," the other patted his shoulder, "it'll come soon. It's the drugs. They'll wear off in time."

"Can I have some water?" He asked. The awful dry feeling was still present in his throat.

"Certainly," the other grinned. He turned away and fetched a skin flask, then turned back and pulling out the cork, the other held it up to the roped one's lips. He drank and pulled back when he had had enough. The other pushed the stopper back into the skin and laid it down beside himself. "We need to get moving again," he informed him.

"Where are we going?" He suppressed a yawn as he said this.

"You'll figure it out one way or another," said the other very unhelpfully, presently cleaning beneath his fingernails with a dagger he'd pulled from his belt.

It occurred to him he was getting slightly annoyed even though he probably shouldn't be. He heaved a sigh and shifted his position again. He was still rather uncomfortable and the headache was still very prominent. "Can I go back to sleep?"

"Perhaps," said the other looking him up and down. "I suppose I'll allow it."

In his great relief, he flopped over backwards, causing an exclamation from the other. He frankly didn't care though. He felt too tired to stay awake much longer anyway.

After several minutes of silence, the other spoke to him even if he knew the blue-haired boy was too asleep to hear him. "I know how it feels. Being weakened with those drugs and tied up, unable to remember everything except for vague feelings and concepts. That's why I'm not going to drug you again after this. You'll remember, and you'll hate me, but it's better than robbing you entirely. This drug would eventually rob you of all your memories."

»»««»»

They had finally slogged to cleaner land and found a river in which to peel off the caked and drying mud and wash themselves. Lucina washed upstream, Ike and the boulkin downstream. Since everything they'd been carrying had gotten filthy from the incident in the swamp, they had to wash their belongings as well. However, since Lucina had been wearing a pack in which she was carrying most of her things, far less of it had gotten dirty. In fact, most of what was in the pack turned out to be dry. This turned out to be very fortunate, seeing as she had extra things in there, such as socks and other articles of clothing.

When Ike had gotten back from washing, shivering in his still-wet clothes for he was still trying to be decent around her and therefore had climbed back into his wet garments after washing them, he found Lucina had already rigged up a fire and was cooking dinner. Feeling very grateful for this, Ike sat down to warm himself and the shivering ball of fluff on his lap. It may have been summer, but the nights were still cold, especially if you were in wet clothes.

Lucina placed a bowl of soup down before him, then sat back to eat her own. She finished in a matter of minutes, then left to wash the dishes. When Ike was done, he followed to wash his own. By now he was feeling drier, if only by a little, and far better. Soup was always good at warming him up. When they returned, they wiped and tucked the dishes back into Lucina's pack before she retrieved a dagger from inside and held it out to Ike. "Cut it to look like Marth's."

"If you say so." He took the dagger from her. She turned around and sat down, waiting. Ike kneeled to have a better angle, gathered her hair up in one hand, and began carefully cutting.


And there. Chapter eight, end. Once again, Ike does get his sleep, even if it's only for a few minutes in the form of being knocked out. It just always happens if he doesn't decide to rampage like he did in chapter four and not listen to me.

Ahhh, anyway. Like always, if you have thoughts on this, leave a review and thanks for reading! Please stay tuned for more. Bye bye!