Well, hello and I'm sorry for the delay. It's been a while. Hope y'all enjoy...

Marth was blissfully unaware of what was occurring outside his palace. He didn't hear the quiet grunts as men pulled themselves up the rope that was secured just inside his room. He was feeling annoyed at how much wine he had drunk. His mind was just slightly fuzzy and it bothered him even as he felt guilty heading down the halls. As the moon rose and shown through the marble pillars, bathing him in white light, he let out a deep sigh and froze as his ears picked up the sound of a boot scraping stone. It came from inside his room.

Quickening his pace he peered in through the doorway and stiffened again as his eyes took in the four silhouettes in his room and a fifth climbing through one of his arched windows at that moment.

"Guards!" Marth called. All eyes were instantly on him and his heart began to pound as he turned and fled down the hall, stumbling over his own feet, the sounds behind him closing in all around as if thunder had come down from the heavens. His own footsteps added to the confusion in his head and the thudding in his ears.

"Too many toasts, you fool," he growled to himself as he rounded the hall and pushed into a parlor. The door slammed back against the wall and he dove for the far side of the room, snatching at the sword that rested on two golden pegs in the wall. It clattered to the floor and he shook his head violently, trying to clear the fogginess as he grabbed at the handle. His fingers scraped the floor and he grabbed at it again, his fingers clenching the velvet comfortably between them in a firm grip as he straightened and whirled about to face the thousands of adversaries that surrounded him.

And even as he turned he realized the room was basically empty. Dimly he could hear the shouts of others as they called to each other and the screams as either his guards or the silhouettes died. Certainly there was a man standing in the doorway and he staggered back against the wall before readying his sword.

"Ah. By the crown you must be a prince." His voice was sinister and Marth wished the room had more light than the faint moonbeams that streamed through the open windows.

"I certainly think I outrank you, scoundrel," the king retorted. "What do you think you could get away with, entering m…this palace as you did?"

"Oh ho," remarked the man, entering the room and shutting the door quietly. Marth saw a sword was in his hand too. And by the way he carried it, he either didn't know how to use a sword or he was an expert who wasn't worried by the pitiful, drunk figure in front of him.

Marth's hand shook as the man replied, "Surely you should introduce yourself first, before you go about addressing me as…a scoundrel."

"I don't believe you deserve the honor," Marth returned desperately, his voice shaking briefly. His perspiring hands were dampening his sword's handle.

"Well then I shall go first. I am Link."

"I'm not sure it's a pleasurable meeting," Marth growled, gritting his teeth and taking a step forward. "Do you fight as well as you speak?"

"I think you'll have to decide that," Link responded, stepping towards him as well. His eyes glinted as the moonlight bathed him in it's white sheen. His hair was a ragged blonde mess and his green clothing seemed to make him a forester.

"You should return to the woods where you belong," Marth said stiffly. "Before you get hurt." He was confident in his skills, but he was equally confident in Link's skills and there was no telling if his swordplay would trump Marth's.

Ryu slowed his horse outside the palace. Marth had to listen to him and if he didn't, Ryu would make him. The army couldn't function with allies they hated in their very souls. And he couldn't function either, with a whining, baby-blue eyed man who was an impressive fighter and wasn't afraid of any threats.

The black pupils grew and shrank as the four slipped silently down the torchlit hall. The palace reminded him of where he had come from and he kept close to his mother, her darkly-clad figure moving elegantly along the wall.

"The throne room," he heard her whisper.

"We enter it?" asked one of the men.

"I shall. You two go down that way and try and find the bedroom," she breathed.

Pit stayed still, looking at her until she glanced down and their eyes met. "Stay with me," she ordered and he inadvertently let out the breath he had been holding. She pushed open the heavy oaken door and Pit slipped in just behind her, easily maneuvering his body through the slight crack she allowed.

It was very different from the goddess' throne room. No golden pillars and massive windows with tapestries and paint covering the ceilings and walls in garish colors. It was rather simple, with a few tables and benches for the throne room sessions when the king performed special judgements, and a large throne. Pit's mind placed an equally large person on the throne and the king suddenly seemed very large indeed. Perhaps a god.

"Pit?"

He was shrinking back against the wall and his eyes flicked over to her. She stood by the throne now, but she was looking at him, her eyes narrowed and her voice slightly worried.

"What are you doing?"

"Do you think he is a god? You think he knows of Palutena? You know all gods are connected."

Zelda's eyes flashed. "Pit, kings and gods are not the same thing. You must drop these foolish notions. Come. Touch this throne. It is simple stone."

"With magic left on it, perhaps," he whispered, disobeying as he shrank further back against the door.

"Pit!" she hissed furiously. Her eyes widened and Pit felt himself fall forward as the door struck him and was thrown open. Rolling over on his back he brought his arms up to protect his face as he looked at the two massive men standing in the doorway.

A spear was raised above him and his eyes remained unblinking as it plummeted down.

"No!"

A foot knocked the pike away and his mother had rounded the guards. One gave a groan and twisted slightly before crashing to the ground close beside Pit, who struggled to stand, even as the other man whirled on his mother and knocked her back with a quick hand. She flipped over backwards into a handspring and crouched, a bloody knife where she had stabbed the first guard clutched in her gloved hand.

The remaining man backed against the wall and rammed his spear at Pit, who rolled out of the way and stood, his heart pounding in his chest as he drew the bow from its place on his back, stepped away from the man even further, and placed an arrow on the string.

Panic was seen in the guard's eyes and he ran at Pit, who pulled back and released his shaft. With a dull thud it struck the man in the chest, but he didn't stop his advance and stabbed his spear down again.

Pit leapt away, striking his knee on the ground as he scrabbled across the floor in desperation. No sound came from his mouth, his eyes wide, as he stood again to face the guard. The man was standing still and stiff before he slammed down to his knees and barreled over onto his side.

Zelda stood behind him, her knife bloody again, her eyes flashing.

Pit never knew how it happened. He only saw it suddenly. As if a vision. It was a dream. She seemed to float out from behind the corner at the far end of the hall, visible through the open doors. The white that cloaked her made her a ghost, and the emerald hair that flowed down her back waved as she walked. He didn't move. He couldn't move.

Closer, she came; closer. Even as dimly he heard someone saying his name. Even as he realized his tormenter held her golden staff in hand. The pupils grew small and the thudding of his heart, the soft pad of her feet, and his own breathing filled his mind and surroundings.

The staff was readied in her hands as she passed through the doorway. His mother was unaware of the one who was going to destroy her. The goddess would take everything from him. She already had. Well, she couldn't take his mother. Never.

"Mother! Behind you!" His shriek shattered the silence.

Does that last part make sense? Well, it will in the next chapter. I hope. Cheers, all. Please review. Thanks!