As usual, all my thanks to darkpaladin89 and Shroom of Doom for their support. Now, on with the show.
The stark desolation of the castle chilled Marth to his soul. This place was always awash with activity, from guards and servants, to cooks and maids. Now the only things inhabiting them were himself, Link, and Hardin, the three of them rushing through the halls toward the throne room. The hurry might have exacerbated the ache in Marth's arm left from his duel with Ghirahim had he been paying any mind to it; all that occupied his thoughts was the safety of his sister.
The lamps were extinguished, leaving the halls dark and treacherous. The air was still but for the echoes of the retinue's footfalls. It was a quiet that promised danger, warning that at all times, at any moment, the stillness would be shattered and disaster would again rear its head.
Through it all, and especially so near Hardin, he remembered his focus. Eyes forward, mind clear, sword in hand. The worst thing he could do under these circumstances was lower his guard. He turned the last corner sharply, leading with his blade, just in case.
As fortune would have it, there was nothing to find. As they neared the throne room, Marth noted a distinct lack of any sign of major disturbance. Aside from some dust or brazier ash displaced by errant cannon shot, there was no appreciable damage to their surroundings. He allowed himself a momentary glimmer of hope.
The door gave a loud groan as Marth opened it, and before he could even realize the room was lit, he spotted Elice standing before the throne, unhurt, still clutching her staff. She looked up to the three, startled yet relieved.
The miraculous sight lost Marth his focus. His sister was safe, praise be to the gods. His spirit soaring, he dropped his weapon carelessly to the ground as he ran to her, and she to him. In moments, they wrapped themselves in each others arms.
After a long few seconds, she finally said, "I'm so glad you're safe."
"As am I," he said, breaking the embrace. "We arrived just in time."
Elice sighed and looked to the others. "Thank you, Hardin, for watching over my brother."
"I am ever at your service," Hardin said.
"Who is this other you've brought with you?"
"That is Link," Marth said, "Formerly a soldier of Hyrule. I doubt I would have survived the journey back to you without his aid."
"Then I have much to be thankful for." Elice gave him a small bow. "We are in your debt, Sir Link."
"Not yet," Hardin said. "The city is compromised, and in a few hours, so too will be this castle. We need to get you and your brother out of harm's way before the Hylians rally."
"How goes the battle?"
"All but lost, milady."
"And our father?"
The silence returned, almost drowning out the distant cannon fire. Marth's throat tightened and he turned away. He didn't want to see the look Elice had on her face.
"I see," she said, her voice steady but sincere. "Then you were right, weren't you, Marth?"
"Elice..."
"There will be time for shedding tears later. Father would want for us to do our duty before we take time to mourn."
"Quite right," Hardin said. "In the meantime, we must see you two out of the castle. We'll seek sanctuary once we're clear of the border."
"These catacombs," Link said, "Are they safe?"
"Safe enough," Marth said. "They have seen their share of neglect, but the passage should be clear of anything dangerous."
"Good to hear," Link said. "Because once we're out, all hell's going to break loose."
Link stood watch as Marth and Hardin got to work opening the secret passages. He kept a sharp eye on Elice, all the while feeling sorry for her. Her unflappable disposition and her righteous sense of duty reminded him too much of Zelda. And the way she and her brother cared so openly for each other made him nostalgic. He pined for the days of his early childhood, sneaking through the castle windows to see his best and most unlikely friend, bearing gifts of potatoes fresh from the harvest. Nineteen years was too young to feel so old.
The wall slid open. Hardin went in first, Link last. Marth said something he didn't hear.
He couldn't imagine what she was going through. Despite the airs she put on, Link knew Zelda to be nothing like Elice. Where Elice was judicious in her actions, Zelda was far more impulsive. A bit like himself, he supposed. If she hadn't asked, he wouldn't have even considered attending this errand. He'd had so many brushes with death today alone, but it was worth it to know she would be safe at the end of it. She was the only family he had after Uncle died, and he would do anything to hold onto that.
He only noticed they were in the catacombs when he stumbled over a loose stone. None of the others seemed to notice. Now back to the present, Link took in his surroundings.
Moaning wind. A faint dripping of water from just up ahead. Skittering feet accompanied by intermittent squeaks. Dammit, but he hated rats.
The place was dim, lit only by a few hanging lamps. Marth wasn't kidding when he said the place was neglected; many of the wooden beams that held the stone ceiling were showing early signs of rot, and the humidity in the place didn't help. He wiped the sweat from his brow and concentrated on the sounds.
"We must be close to the exit by now," he heard Marth say.
"It'll be a while longer, Highness," Hardin said. "Does milady need to rest?"
"I'm fine, Hardin," Elice muttered. "Thank you."
"Very well. Up ahead is the old storehouse. We may find something there worth taking."
Good thing somebody knew the place. They walked a few minutes more and came into a chamber filled with trunks and chests. Most of the store had been picked clean, but a few of the boxes had been left sealed.
Link went over to one and after a struggle, popped it open. Inside was a shield, a bit rough-looking, with dents and fractures among the usual battle scars, but still in useable condition. Link snatched it without pause. Ordinarily, he would have been leery of anything known to have laid about in such conditions for so long a time, but he wasn't in a position to be choosy. Besides, he couldn't risk a zealous Altean straggler or a Hylian watchman recognizing the symbol on his old one.
Link hoisted the shield, testing its weight. It felt good, surprisingly enough; hefty and sturdy without being cumbersome. It was a bit larger than what he was used to, but he wasn't about to complain about a little extra protection. All in all, it was a good find.
He looked over to the others. Marth was examining a breastplate closely. Elice flitted through the pages of a half-rotted tome. Hardin stood to one side, hoisting an ornate partisan. Not much of a treasure store, but at the very least, they had newer equipment.
Link stood and the company proceeded. "How much longer?" he asked.
"We will arrive soon," Elice said. "The exit will put us to the south of the city. After that, it's only a matter of slipping by the fighting to seek sanctuary."
Link nodded. During the walk, he noticed something in the princess' bearing that betrayed a certain trepidation. She walked steadily, but slowly, in half-steps that she tried to hide under her robes. She gripped her staff loosely, turning it over in her palm. She was either scared stiff or having second thoughts.
Link noted that Marth kept a hurried pace, eager to lead his family to safety. He was constantly looking ahead, ready to leap at the first thing that would jump from the shadows. Link decided some time ago that he quite liked the young prince; he was an exemplary fighter, courageous, and dedicated to his country and is family. Even if he did tend to act rashly, he never went ahead without a backup plan.
Sounds up ahead. More whistling wind. Groaning wood. Echoes of rocks kicked down the empty hallways.
Further ahead, faint chirping of crickets.
He and Marth picked up the pace. After they rounded the next curve, they saw the exit at the hall's far end. Between themselves and it, was a wrought iron portcullis, with a wheel to one side of the frame.
It was never easy. Link sighed and dropped his head.
Marth's blood heated almost to a boil as he glared the iron bars down. "This must be some kind of joke," he snapped. "What right-minded architect would build an exit tunnel which prevents a person's exit?"
"This is not some caprice of mad architects, Marth," Elice said. "In the time when this castle was built, the Royal Family thought it necessary for Altea to always have a king or queen seat the throne in times of crisis. They would be the ones to hold that wheel while their citizens and soldiers escaped." She forced a smile. "Honestly, haven't you paid any attention to your lessons?"
"Milady, there is little time," Hardin said. "I estimate the seal to be broken in minutes. And once they find you absent, they will find this place."
"I understand, Hardin." She walked over to the wheel and grasped it firmly.
Marth instinctively launched himself forward and grabbed Elice by the shoulder. She didn't so much as twitch. He went cold at her stiffness, and nearly lost his words. "I almost lost you once," he said. "Neither of us may survive another close call. If these are to be my final hours, I would be at peace knowing that you were safe."
Turning slightly, she placed a hand over her brother's. "Such eloquence is wasted on a warrior prince," she said, and turned back. "You're the best hope we have of ending this farce of a war."
"You mustn't rest your hopes on sentiment! Your life is at stake!"
"Better my life than yours."
"How can you say that? Next in line for the throne and you would throw yourself onto their blades?"
Her voice raised slightly. "I'm doing this for you. You were always a fighter, Marth. Always a hero to someone. Now you have a chance to be a hero to everyone, a symbol for Altea's future!"
"I can't do this without you!"
"You have to!"
Marth stood in confusion as her voice echoed through the catacombs. He let his arm fall limp. Memories of his father flashed in front of him, between his eyes and his sister's back – their final conversation in the throne room.
When the last trace of the echo died, Elice turned and faced Marth, her eyes soft and glistening. "I've given this no small amount of thought. I've been planning for hours, cowering behind stone walls while outside, our subjects were dying in droves. How can I call myself princess when I allowed so many of my people to be killed while I considered how best to escape?" She closed her eyes and stood resolute. "This is my atonement. I shall stay behind and meet whatever fate the heavens have laid out for me, and dream all the while of brighter days for our country."
Marth choked on his voice. A pitiful stammer was the only thing his dry lips could muster.
Elice pulled him into an embrace. "Promise me you'll see these dreams realized."
Not trusting his throat to utter a word, he nodded against her shoulder. He couldn't help but let a few tears fall. We were so close.
She broke the embrace and placed kiss on his forehead. "I love you, brother."
With that, she turned at once to the wheel and started turning. The portcullis raised slowly, taunting them with more time, creaking obscenely against the solemn silence. Elice struggled against it, but persevered. When it was raised about halfway, she started having difficulty, and strained against it with great effort.
Hardin stepped forward to lend a hand. With the two of them, the wheel turned much easier, and eventually the bars were out of sight above the frame. Marth and Link stepped through it, and waited for Hardin to join them.
Hardin instead took the wheel tightly in his hand and shoved with all his might against the princess, forcing her through the frame where she stumbled to the ground. Marth hadn't finished picking her up yet when Hardin released the wheel and the gate crashed to the floor, separating them.
The three ran forward and Elice grabbed the bars. "Hardin, what the hell are you doing?!"
"Marth has a point, milady," he said. "If his actions today are any indication, he intends to face certain death. And if the Royal Family is obliterated, Altea will be no more. This is the only tactically sound option." He bowed gracefully to the gathering and then turned is back. "War is a job for soldiers. Let us handle it." He started walking down the hallway.
Marth pounded once on the bars. "Hardin! Open this gate immediately! I command you!"
"I'm sorry, Your Highness. That is one order I cannot follow. If fate wills it, we shall meet again." And he vanished into the darkness.
Marth took a last look and backed away. The best way to pay Hardin back was to do his duty.
Author's note: I think I really need to liven this tone. Writing this made me sad. Oh, well. That's a job for another day.
Elice is back! Trying to keep her distinct from Zelda has been a challenge, but I figured a greater level of maturity was warranted from a character like her; she's more cerebral than her Hylian counterpart, and more at ease with the idea of self-sacrifice.
But if you're wondering why I haven't looked in on Zelda and Lucario for a while, there are two reasons, both of them having to do with Lucario. First of all, I'm not sure how to convey his dialogue effectively. Italicizing is something done for thoughts and inner monologue but since he isn't vocalizing, quotation marks won't do the job. Ideas? Anyone?
Secondly, I've been grappling with the idea of giving him a nickname. I don't know if it's something Zelda might do, but it might be something worth considering. I'll turn it over to you readers, then. Do you want to give a nickname to Lucario? Or do I keep it as is? I could go either way so feel free to shout out any ideas, or if you want, I can just not change anything. This isn't really a poll; it's more like I'm fishing for ideas.