Marx's thoughts had finally ceased spiraling and his mind had regained enough order that he was able to calm his rushed breathing. He'd regained enough composure to pull away from the temptation of lingering in his wife's embrace— a criminal's den was not an appropriate place for such things. Hinoka allowed him to draw back without protest, though he felt the weight of her concerned gaze.
The Nohrian prince felt suddenly shy, and was rather mortified that his wife had witnessed such a loss of self-control. For her to have seen him at a disadvantage, defeated… It wasn't something he'd have chosen to show her. Yet it'd been her response, the stubborn patience and gentle insistence, that'd left him ill at ease now that the episode had passed.
"…thank you, Hinoka," he said, unable to meet her eyes.
"Considering I was the one to collapse a building on us, Marx, I don't know if you should be thanking me just yet," she replied with wry humor. Her fingers smoothed the hair from his face, mess that it was with the tie lost, she tucked longer strands behind his ears.
The fragile moment was broken by a strange sound, that of splashing, against the other side of the blocked door and walls. Hinoka wondered aloud what it might be and stood to investigate. Marx attempted to do the same but found his right leg unable to bear any of his weight, so only managed to rise tilted. As his wife exclaimed that some sort of clear liquid had seeped through onto the floor, he smelled it— the swampy vegetation scent of oil that was used to fuel lamps in Markas.
Already she'd knelt down to inspect it, the hem of her gown had soaked some up, before he could warn, "Hinoka, get away from that! It's oil meant for burning-"
The spark that lit the oil from the other side was all consuming. In a flash, it turned to liquid fire and Hinoka screamed as it caught her skirt aflame even as she scrambled back. Marx threw himself bodily and tore at the fabric of the skirt where it met the bodice. The seam was quickly rent and he tossed the burning cloth away from them both.
"Th-thank you," her voice was shaky. Yet her hands were steady as she drew one of his arms about her shoulders and helped him to stand again.
"Ganz is a coward." His own voice shook, and it was with anger.
They both flinched when one of the lanterns that'd been knocked over during the fights caught and fueled the new fire— limiting where they could go to get as far away from it as the room allowed. Marx felt a black rage building inside him over all that had happened to them and at how the criminal intended to burn them alive, since he couldn't win in a fight. This entire district within Vindam's inner circle had buildings made with wood, if the flame engulfed the building and spread to the next— it could kill countless citizens. People like Ganz had to be hunted and put down without mercy.
"We need to get out of this room." Hinoka gazed up to one of the larger holes in the roof created by her use of dragon's vein, then at him. "Do you think you could give me a boost? It looks like the only way."
He wouldn't be able to lift her above his head like he'd normally be able to with both legs, but the opening wasn't too far from a wall. Marx nodded, and tried to carry as much of his own weight as he could while she walked them over. Once there he instructed her to lean him against the wall, and arranged himself until he felt steady. Then he threaded his fingers together, had her hands grip his shoulders, and told her to step up.
With Hinoka's foot supported by his hands, Marx ignored the aching of his arms and used the strength of his upper body to lift her as high as he could— and it was enough. He felt the moment his arms dipped down as she pushed off from his hands, jumping the remaining distance to the hole and loosened timbers. One handhold, then two, he watched as she heaved herself up, over the edge, and out onto the roof.
"Mmm… made it!" Hinoka's voice echoed down. "Get close to that wall, I'm going to push one of these beams so you can climb up."
He did as was told, huddled as best he could in a room that'd grown increasingly hot and smoke-filled. Abruptly there were sounds of reverberating smacks and grunting, a loose timber rocked and then swayed until finally it crashed down onto the floor with one end still propped against the low angle of the roof.
After the support beam had settled, Hinoka's soot-smudged face peered over the hole's edge. She called to him, "Marx, do you think that'll be enough?"
Underneath the soot her face was red with exertion and he could tell that she was breathing hard, so he nodded. It wouldn't do to risk destroying the roof supports further lest the entire thing collapse and entomb them. It proved a difficult climb. The wood's grain had been made smooth and without use of both legs he mostly had to move from one painful handhold and pull himself to the next. The smoke had begun to sting both his eyes and airways, but it motivated Marx to get out before he became lightheaded.
Hinoka helped pull him onto the roof once he was within reach, although he'd nearly told her to stop, worried that his weight might drag her over the edge. He laid sprawled and panted. It was a few moments before he dragged his body over the roof's tiles until he could take in just how far up they were. The building had multiple stories, and the road below was packed cobblestone. There was no way they could jump off without injury or possibly death.
As if she knew his thoughts, Hinoka groaned beside him. "I shouldn't be scared. I fly higher than this every day." Her legs almost seemed to give out and she sat down heavily beside Marx while gazing over the roof's edge.
Although he still struggled against the smoky air for breath, he managed to say, "Only fools don't fear death." When he saw her body tensing and leaning forward, Marx leaned up and wrapped an arm around her waist. He felt her give a hard exhale as his head softly butted against her side.
Her smaller hands caught his, but didn't push him away even as she argued, "We can't just stay like this."
"I know…" He tilted his head and looked her full in the face. "I don't want you to try and jump." I don't want you to die.
"I was going to try climbing." Hinoka nearly squeaked as he tightened his hold on her. "I know it's dangerous, but we have to get down from here!"
He shook his head. "We'll find another way."
"What way, Marx?" Her hands squeezed his tightly. "You're injured, the room below us is on fire with its door blocked, this roof could give out at any moment. Unless you have a ladder hidden on you, I can't think of any other way down." She stared at him, determination eclipsing the fear in her eyes. He had to set his teeth against the urge to give in and let her risk her life.
"Prince Marx, Princess Hinoka!"
A voice called out, faint and far above them. Together they looked to the sky and saw a tenma, Marx's tenma, black wings dissipating the rising smoke as he descended. Kouun grew closer that the air moved by its wings stirred their clothing and hair as the rider became recognizable— Cyrus.
Once close enough to be heard clearly as he shouted at them, "That entire building is on fire, you can't stay on that collapsing roof."
The young knight held the reigns in one hand and used the other to toss something down. With the smoke stinging Marx's eyes and pain dulling his senses, Hinoka reacted faster. She reached up and caught the length of rope that had uncoiled, but only one end as the other appeared to be attached to the skyhorse's harness. With that observation Marx realized what Cyrus intended— lifting was a training exercise for flying mounts, while wyverns could pick objects up with their claws tenma had to have special harnesses to pull weight off the ground. He'd run Kouun through the course but hardly considered it mastered.
"Your Highness, tie that around and I'll bring both of you to safety."
With those words Hinoka immediately pried Marx's arm open, shifted him onto his back, and maneuvered him until he sat upright. She then sat herself upon his lap and efficiently looped the rope to that is crisscrossed about their shoulders and back. After tying its end in a knot, she tugged at the rope and shouted up, "The rope's tied, get us off here!"
"At once, my lady!"
In the next moment Kouun rose higher and lifted them into the air, the rope brought their chests together in a cruel hold. The Nohrian prince both heard and felt as breath was crushed from his wife, and he grabbed at the crossing of rope at her back to try and force a little slack. They dangled like a pair of meat chops on a hook. He had to grit his teeth against the way his stomach turned over the lack of anything solid underfoot.
Thankfully, the young knight knew better than to try and fly them far like this, instead descending slowly towards the cobblestones below. They steadily lowered and Marx's feet hit the ground first. He couldn't hold back a cry at the pain that jolted through him as his injured leg folded in on itself with their combined weight. He was able to slap out his arms and tuck his head in as he went backwards, taking the brunt of the fall while Hinoka was still tied to him.
"My lord!"
"Xander!"
He hardly heard Cyrus' alarmed cry and a woman's voice over the flap of wings and crackling of burning wood as he gasped to regain the breath that'd been knocked out of him. However, Hinoka practically yelled in his ear as she craned to look behind, "Asama, help us!"
In the next moment her retainer was at their side and unsheathed a small knife. The Hoshidan priest quipped as he set the blade to the rope, "My, my, whatever happened to your dress, Princess? That and the rope... it's indecent."
The impulse to strike the man surged through Marx, and again Hinoka seemed to know his mind as she reached up and slapped. Although Asama did little more than flinch, it assuaged Marx's need for violence and soon enough he was distracted by the ropes loosening. With his help, his wife shrugged out of the bindings and they were both able to sit up.
"Your highnesses, you're alive!" Zola cried out, sounding near teary with relief.
Marx glanced over and found that the mage was casting an ice spell from a fimbulvetr tome towards the smoldering building's openings. He then looked at their surroundings, and was shocked by the hunched figure, wrists tied to her ankles with strips of cloth— it was Pieri. Her face was once again streaked by kohl-blackened tears, and her visible eye was watching him unwaveringly as she sat huddled on the street.
Hinoka followed his gaze and said, "We were leaving from the royal passageway when I spied you two walking in the street. I insisted we follow. Zola used his magic to disguise us so we tailed you… I was just planning to watch, until that woman came out and you didn't. After we captured and interrogated her, I sent Joker and Setsuna to go get reinforcements before I went inside."
"She told you where to find Ganz's hidden room." Hinoka nodded, so Marx steeled himself and said, "Let her go."
"What?! But she left you in there to die-"
"I granted the Kohgan amnesty, do this for me."
Hinoka's eyes flashed with temper, but she stood and took the knife from her retainer. While she made her way over, Asama blocked his view and turned his face this way and that. The priest clicked his tongue, "Stay still, Prince. You stuck that big nose into trouble, and now I've got to straighten it."
Marx winced as thumbs pressed the break back into shape, despite the pain being small compared to the overall state of his battered body. Once his nose had been straightened, the Hoshidan stooped to check his injured knee and finally got out of his line of sight.
He watched as Hinoka cut Pieri's makeshift bindings and helped her to her feet. There was no anger in her voice as she told the other woman, "You're free to go."
Pieri blinked as if in a stupor, then looked to Marx perhaps seeking approval. He couldn't help but sigh, "Go, Pieri, before the guard arrive."
At this the twin-tailed woman sniffled loudly and faced his wife. "Be sure to kiss Xander proper!" Peiri huffed out, before she turned then dashed into an alleyway and out of sight.
A gust of wind washed over them and there was the clack of horseshoes on stone. Ignoring the discomfort over the fingers pressing and prodding his tender knee, Marx looked towards the sound. Cyrus had landed the sky horse and led it towards him, having untied the rope from the harness as he went.
"Prince Marx, forgive me for riding your tenma. Jakob insisted time was of the essence, but I have no talent managing wyverns." Cyrus said, voice edged with nervousness.
"There's nothing to forgive, sir Cyrus. You handled the situation admirably-" Marx bit off his words with a grunt as the Hoshidan began wrapping his knee with a cloth bandage, tightly.
"Marx, don't push yourself." Hinoka knelt next him, on the side opposite her retainer.
"Princess, worry not. He'll be good as new soon enough," Asama's assurance was dampened by the flippancy in his tone. The Hoshidan priest brandished a festal but before it glowed with healing magic, he paused. A hand rose and grabbed his chin, abruptly enough that the Nohrian prince nearly tried to shake off his grip as it tilted his head. "When was the last time you slept?"
"What?" Marx nearly flinched as the man tugged at an eyelid and peered at the exposed orb.
"The white of your eyes are bloodshot, pupils pinpoint, and the irises flare blue in time with your pulse." Asama's impudent jesting had been replaced by a serious demeanor, his tone entirely somber. "A dreaming mind allows the body to filter out magic built up either from resisting hostile spells or residually left by healing magic. So, when was the last time you slept?"
"Not since the night before last." Asama lifted his hands away, and Marx held back a sigh of relief.
The Hoshidan scoffed, "Only that long? Someone's been working you over since then." The priest righted himself and looked to Hinoka. "It'd be dangerous to subject his body to any more magic while it's overloaded like this. He needs to sleep before any rodwork should be applied. Some food, drink, and a couple doses of pure water would also help. Before you ask, milady, I do not have any on me."
"Then we need to return to the castle and get those things." His wife's hands gripped Marx's shoulders. "How were you planning to return… looking like this?"
"Walking on my own two feet," he dryly answered, not needing to state that it was no longer an option.
Hinoka worried her bottom lip with her teeth, before she looked to the young knight. "We need to get my husband to the castle as soon as possible. Cyrus, I'm going to take Kouun and fly him back."
"I'm afraid you'll have to wait before going airborne, Your Highness." Cyrus smiled apologetically as he tilted his head up, leading all their gazes to wyverns circling in descent. "The fire brigade has finally arrived, and it'll be too windy for flying once they get to work."
When Marx glanced at his wife he found a puzzled expression on her face, likely because as the flying beasts landed the only cargo to be seen was human, no buckets of water or sacks of sand. Yet he offered no explanation, simply watched on as she did. The wyvern riders helped down the additional passengers, short women who likely looked unassuming to Hinoka's eyes. Even though it'd been many years since he'd last laid eyes upon them, it was impossible not to recognize the twins of the Ice Clan's chief family.
The sisters, one of pink colored hair and the other blue, walked by their group towards the burning building and did not stop to bow. Marx didn't begrudge them for their mistake, as these two hadn't the permission to attend his wedding celebrations thus wouldn't know the Hoshidonese princess and likely wouldn't recognize him without his armor or regalia. Besides, they'd been released from the Northern Citadel to do a duty— he wouldn't have ceremony stand in their way.
"Ah, the Freezians are here. Good, good." Zola closed the tome and stepped aside. "I've managed to contain the fire to one building, but it will quickly spread if it's not snuffed out all at once. Which would be such a tragedy to the shop keeps in this district."
The blue sister looked to the pink and made a circular motion with one hand, to which the other nodded so enthusiastically that the high tail that bound her hair up whipped with the motion. Then they stood with their feet close together, heels touching, and raised their arms high. The clouds covering the sky grew darker still, until it churned with a true storm. A bitingly cold wind suddenly blew, and it pierced through cloth and flesh down to the very bone. It made Marx's entire body shiver in mere moments and he felt Hinoka's shaking as she attempted to position her smaller form as a windbreak for his.
The storm clouds swirled ominously and the wind blew strongly enough that it howled through alleyways and caused shutters to slam. The sisters abruptly lowered their hands, open palms facing the burning building— and the gusts' direction changed. Ice crystals formed as the wind circled and steadily the flames shrunk as frost crept over the entire architecture. By the time the women from Freezia clapped their hands together and caused the icy squall to still, not even smoke rose from the previously burning building and the very cobblestones of the street were covered with frost.
Zola let out excited congratulations despite his chattering teeth. When the sisters turned to face the mage, their faces weren't any rosier than they'd been before. Although they were both smiling, perhaps satisfied by being able to use their inborn talents or being free from their cage even if temporarily. Marx glanced to Hinoka and found her staring at the Freezians with wide eyes, breaths puffing out into the chilly air.
"Your Highness, it's safe to fly now," Cyrus said, suddenly.
Hinoka's attention immediately snapped to him. "Then let's go!"
At her direction Cyrus and Asama both shouldered Marx's weight to assist him with climbing onto the saddle while she held the tenma steady. Even with the help it was a difficult thing with a bum leg, and after having had a moment to rest the renewed struggle tweaked every pain and ache he'd been ignoring. Moments after Marx had found his balance and settled then their retainers had drawn away, his wife swung up into the saddle behind him. Through the disguise Marx wore he felt her body mold against his, Hinoka's legs bracketing from behind. Kouun stamped his hooves with a whinny, unaccustomed to the weight of multiple riders.
They'd shared a mount before, but Froh was larger, and this awkward arrangement spurred him to protest, "Hinoka, I don't-"
"Hush, I need to make sure you aren't unseated during the flight." She slid close enough to reach around his waist to pet along the sky horse's neck.
The position pressed her chest to his back in a way he couldn't help but be acutely aware of, with only fabric between them. He dug his fingers into a bruise on his thigh to regain focus and asked, "…can you even see?"
"You're not that big." Her elbows squeezed against his sides, perhaps to prove her point, then she leaned so that she peered around him. "Reins!"
Cyrus guided the reins into Hinoka's hands, and then he stepped back. "Jakob will be waiting near the stables. He'll get you both inside undetected."
Marx felt his wife nod, and then she nudged Kouun into motion.
"Remember, no healing magic until after he's drank pure water and had a full night's worth of sleep!" Asama yelled as they took off down the road.
The sky horse broke into a gallop and with great flaps of feathered wings left the cobblestone, all of which jostled painfully. They rose into the air quickly, Vindam shrank beneath them. Marx held the pommel in a white knuckled grip as a dizzy spell caused his head to spin. Mercifully the vertigo abated once they leveled out, and the city sped by as they soared towards Krackenstein castle. The rhythmic flaps of the wings seemed to match the beat of his heart, and he found the thin air almost as difficult to breath as the smoke had been.
"We'll be there soon! I won't let you fall, Marx," Hinoka shouted over the wind rushing by.
Marx's heart squeezed painfully at her words. He gave into temptation and allowed himself to savor being in his wife's arms. Allowed the closeness to distract him— from fears of burning alive, fears of dying from a hard landing, fears of her going where he could not. It was thoughts of only Hinoka that occupied his mind as Marx stared into the wheeling sky.
.x.X.x.
Someone was calling his name. That was what had woken Marx from slumber, he was sluggish and disoriented. His entire body felt like one great, throbbing bruise and he was reluctant to become fully aware while so discomforted. Then he felt hands on him— pulling, yanking, twisting, cruel holds.
The memories of being forced down had the Nohrian prince surging upright, his own hands ready to strike out. Only to find himself pinned flat, gasping for breaths.
"Calm yourself, soldier!" A gravelly voice ordered and Marx felt himself relaxing with recognition. Gunther, the voice belonged to Gunther. He blinked until his vision was no longer blurred, and confirmed that he'd heard right— it was his retainer who sat at his bedside and whose strength had held him.
"Get up that fast and you'll crack your skull open," the old knight's chin tipped as one brow raised.
Marx glanced to see a bunk above his current position, low enough for him to easily hit his head against. It came back to him. He was in the castle barracks, still disguised and his wounds tended to by non-magical means. He'd been too exhausted, falling into a deep slumber the moment he'd reclined against the cot. This wasn't the first time he'd been woken here by his retainer, but the other time had lasted only long enough to eat and drink before he'd drifted back to sleep.
He coughed a few times, then evened out his breathing. "…it's time for my next dose."
"Very good, that is precisely why I roused you," Gunther replied, and Marx felt himself fidgeting at how close his words were to praise. While they were no longer teacher and student, it was difficult to abandon old habits and hopes.
He didn't fight as Gunther's hands shifted his body and brought him out of recline, instead he fought off the spinning of the room until the sensation passed. Once he was propped upright an opened vial was brought to his mouth, Marx gingerly tipped his head back and drank its contents. The pure water tasted like nothing. The liquid simply left one's mouth feeling clean, refreshed, and with only the slightest tingle on the tongue. The lattermost he vaguely recalled was the effect of this particular tonic being a solution of concentrated aegir, which boosted one's innate ability to break down magic within the body.
When a spoon was brought up to his mouth, however, Marx pushed the hand away. "Gunther, please. I can feed myself."
He could tell his retainer was hiding a smile as the old knight handed him the utensil and full bowl. It was turnip mash, something Marx wished was as tasteless as the tonic. He didn't complain. One good thing about this food was no need to chew, and a few of his teeth ached loosely. He spooned the slop into his mouth and swallowed, quickly as he could stand.
When he'd finished the last of the mash Gunther spoke up, "You're much more awake this time. Are you still hungry? I could fetch some apple cakes."
"No need," Marx didn't dignify his teasing with any more of a response. Although it was his favorite dessert, he was hardly a child that needed rewards. Gunther laughed under his breath, undoubtedly having guessed why he'd chosen to decline.
Rather than handing over the emptied bowl, he kept hold of it. The old knight gave him a curious look, but his gaze held the calm patience the Nohrian prince had come to rely upon. He broke eye contact to glance about the barracks— noting that it was quiet because it was deserted, and that they were the only two within the long room.
With privacy confirmed, Marx pushed past his hesitation and asked, "How much were you told of what happened to me?"
"You mean concerning before you came back like this?" Gunther reached up and pinched a strand of blackened hair, his nostrils flared likely smelling how Marx stank of smoke. "Not much. Your wife was much more concerned that I ensure your health, than telling me how you got into this sorry state."
Marx released a shaky exhale, torn between relief that his shame wasn't known and the temptation to talk with someone he trusted. After a moment, he decided to compromise— there'd been one worry he hadn't been able to shake. Looking his retainer in the eye, he asked, "Gunther, do you think… If I fail to get Hinoka with child, will my brother take my place?"
"Do you mean the stipulation that any heirs to Nohr's throne must be born of Hoshido's princess and the crown prince?" Gunther had been by his side when the marriage contract had been drafted, thus knew the conditions, stipulations, and how they factored in the alliance.
"If I cannot do that duty…" Marx had to swallow a lump in his throat. "Wouldn't it be best for Nohr if my father revoked my position and gave it to Leo?"
Gunther's eyes narrowed and he was quiet for a long while. Finally, he said, "Prince Marx, it hasn't even been a full season since you were wed, such worries are hasty. Surely you haven't forgotten that it took over half a decade following their marriage before Queen Ektrina had you."
He couldn't hold back a scoff. "In that time my father took concubines, it's not as if all they did was wait. You know I am not my mother's firstborn child, just the first to live."
"Lady Dahlia is also contracted to your mother. Is that what you're actually worried about?" Gunther arched a brow. "The clause that the princess will be only one man's wife? Are you worried she'll be taken away from you?"
"Hinoka doesn't belong to me." Of that, Marx was certain.
Yet Gunther sounded unconvinced, "Doesn't she though? Isn't that what you two agreed to when you became her husband and she your wife? Whatever your notions of marriage are, Prince Marx, belonging cannot be avoided any more than shared property. If Princess Hinoka was given exclusively to another, how could that be anything other than taking her from you?"
"That's…" Marx found himself at a loss of what to say. Such thinking was strange and rather possessive, but there was a logic to what his retainer argued. He couldn't deny the thought of being separated from Hinoka caused his guts to twist.
When he made no further response the old knight spoke again, his voice quiet, "I understand your fears better than a highborn could, I expect. In my youth I had a wife." Marx felt his eyes widen, Gunter gave him a pointed look. "Only the one, for we were wed in the common way. I was hers and she was mine, we'd vowed to share everything. When my wife was taken from me it felt like a part of my soul went with her."
In all the years the old knight had served him the only talk of his past had been military achievements— never family. Marx almost felt like he was trespassing as he asked, "How was she taken from you?"
Gunther's expression tightened then his eyes shut. "She was murdered."
"Gunther…"
The older man's eyes opened, and he shook his head at the sympathetic tone. "As I said, my prince, I understand your fears all too well."
Before he could form a reply there were footsteps, that went from faint to encroaching. As quickly as he could Marx slid down and turned so that he faced away from the entrances. Just in time— a door slammed open, as there was the click of heels, and then his sister's voice rang out, "I heard there was a patient that needs treatment!"
"Princess Elise." He could hear the rustle of cloth as Gunther moved, likely standing. "I know you are undergoing training as a healer by order of His Majesty, but this soldier simply needs to rest."
"Eh? I can see the bruising and bandages on that guy from here. If I use my healing staff on him, he'll be feeling much better!"
From Elise's tone, Marx could tell she was being stubborn. He had to struggle against the urge to cough, and forced himself to lie still to feign sleep. Fortunately, Gunther was accustomed to dealing with bull-headed children.
"Not in this case, my lady." Gunther reached around him and took away the discarded dish. "This man's treatment is a dose of pure water and time spent sleeping."
"Pure water does interfere with magic, but-"
"Why don't we go and speak with the barracks healer, Princess Elise? Quiet after all, makes it easier to rest."
Gunther's footfalls were heavy as he walked away, and soon lighter steps joined his.
"Fine, Gunther." His little sister agreed, but then started trying to wheedle a promise out of the old knight that he'd take her riding outside of castle grounds— despite the fact that Garon's current punishment forbid such things. Elise always did try to get her way, whether through her disarming appearance or privilege of status.
Marx lay against the cot and listened. It wasn't long before he could no longer hear them, and quiet descended. He allowed the cough to claw its way out of his throat, and set his teeth against how it shook his body and exacerbated the many aches. Once Elise had been put off the scent Gunther would return and tell him when the treatment was through, then the pain would be removed with healing. Marx might've been tempted to refuse the staff and recover naturally as penance for being beaten, but a useless leg couldn't be waited upon.
As he truly settled against the cot and shut his eyes, Gunther's words stood like monuments at the forefront of his memory. Belonging and loss. Could such things truly be his future as a husband? Part of him wanted to contemplate but the majority of him saw no point in fighting off exhaustion to remain awake. Instead Marx greedily soaked up the rest his body required.
Author's Notes:Can I just say that Gunther's backstory was tragically under-used in the game? Cause I really thought it was.