100k words milestone! Thank you for reading this far!
Also, there is new cover art uploaded...

Solidarity

With a snort of a laugh, Cain tugged on the reigns of his horse as he led it back towards the stables. "You really do have a knack for pulling off some crazy shit, you know?"

Roy, who had been helping clean out the stables—which had been a mess due to a long time of neglect—sent the cavalier a curious glance over his shoulder. With a huff, he hoisted up the last forkful of dirty bedding and muck and tossed it in a nearby wheelbarrow. "What do you mean by that?" Roy asked as he turned to face the stable entrance.

Cain rolled his eyes. "Fist-fighting a dragon? Really?"

Oh, that again. Cain had been completely unable to let that go, and had been muttering about it for the last couple days as they cleaned up the Altean castle grounds. Roy shook his head with an awkward chuckle.

"Yeah, I guess so," Roy mumbled.

"You literally punched a dragon. Repeatedly! And came out of it not dead," Cain continued, clearly still unable to believe it.

With a shrug, Roy opened the gate to the last of the open stables so Cain could lead his horse inside. "I honestly wasn't even able to tell what I was doing at that point. It's all just a blur now."

Cain patted his horse's neck before he walked back towards the gate. "Right after you passed out, Marth ran over to you in a panic," he said, and Roy latched the gate behind Cain as he walked out. Cain put his hands on his hips and smirked. "He was all worried, but then he ended up passing out too. Right on top of you. You both about gave Jagen a heart attack. I don't think I've seen that old man run that fast in years."

With another awkward laugh, Roy rubbed the back of his head with his right hand as they both exited the building. "I suppose I'll owe Jagen an apology…" he said sheepishly. "Adrenaline does work in some pretty powerful ways…"

Cain snorted. "You don't have to tell me twice. Maria, Lena, and Wrys really had their work cut out for them. You both were completely wore out by the end of that fight… it's a wonder you didn't end up in sickbeds for the next month."

"I think I've had more than enough of the whole laying around in bed, recovering, thing," Roy responded dryly, and Cain laughed.

No sooner than Cain closed the stable doors behind them did a chipper voice call out.

"Hey, Roy-boy!" came the unmistakable tune of Xane's voice as the eccentric man trotted towards them.

Roy quirked his brow at the new nickname. "Uh… yes, Xane?"

Xane stopped but a few paces away from them and rested his hand on his hip with a smile. "I see you're done with the stables. Is now a good time to hit you up on that little chat that I asked for?"

A side-eyed glance towards Cain silently asked for approval, and the cavalier nodded.

"Go on ahead," Cain said. "We're all done with the horses now."

Xane smiled broadly and bowed.

"Thanks, Cain," Roy said before he turned his attention back to Xane.

Still holding that broad smile, Xane motioned for Roy to follow him with his finger, before he turned to walk away. Roy shot Cain a curious glance, and Cain only shrugged. With a quiet sigh, Roy jogged away to catch up with Xane.

It was a nice day out—significantly nicer than the downpour of days prior—and the breeze was a welcome reprieve from the humidity. The two of them engaged in small talk as Xane led Roy away from the castle and stables. The mercenary spared a glance over his shoulder and noted how far Xane seemed to be taking him; perhaps this "chat" would be more than just idle pleasantries.

Roy's gaze turned back towards Xane. The feather in the man's hair bobbed as he walked, and his eyes held a glimmer to them that was almost cryptic. He certainly was an interesting fellow: Roy could tell there was more to Xane than initially met the eye, though he was not going to question him about it.

Xane, on the other hand, was full of questions for Roy. After they had walked a long enough distance away from any of their comrades, Xane halted his steps, and Roy followed suit. The once-calm breeze seemed to still as Xane turned to Roy with a significantly more serious expression, and Roy bristled at the sudden shift in the man's demeanor.

"Xane?" Roy questioned, "Is something wrong?"

"No," Xane responded. "I have some questions for you, though."

Thoroughly caught off guard, Roy paused for a moment and he squinted at Xane. "… Alright. What questions do you have?"

"What kind of dragon are you?" Xane asked suddenly.

Roy blinked twice, clearly surprised by the question. "… Ice dragon. I think."

Xane crossed his arms. "What tribe?"

Another blink. "I don't know," Roy said.

After a tense moment of pause, Xane lowered his arms to rest his hands on his hips and hummed thoughtfully as he looked up towards the sky.

"… Why are you suddenly asking about this-" Roy started to ask.

"- Can you keep a secret?" Xane said quickly, which cut Roy off.

Roy continued to stare at Xane, who was still looking up towards the sky. "… I suppose I can. What is it?"

A smile tugged at the corners of Xane's lips—clearly pleased with Roy's response—and he kept his head tilted upwards as he glanced to his side, towards Roy. "I'm a Divine Dragon."

The silence that followed was heavy, as Roy processed Xane's words. Finally, he took a slight step back.

"Wait—" Roy said, reeling, "You're a Divine Dragon? Why would you confide in me something like that?"

Xane threw his arms behind his head and laced his fingers together in his hair with a smirk. "I just have a good feeling about you, Roy-boy," he said. "I think you're interesting… and maybe we'd both feel a little more comfortable if we both knew that we were, more or less, of the same blood. Camaraderie and all that. Don't you agree?"

Suspicion was evident on Roy's features as he grimaced. The two of them searched each other's eyes—Roy more critically than Xane—for a few moments before Roy finally let out a sigh.

"… I guess I can understand that," Roy muttered. "Though it still sounds strange to me."

A realization then dawned on Roy. "Wait. If you're a Divine Dragon, why couldn't I tell? I can… sense that Bantu is a dragon. Same with all the other manaketes we've met… but what about you?"

With a nonchalant shrug, Xane responded, "Probably because I can't transform anymore. I threw my dragonstone away a long time ago."

"What?" Roy said, surprised. "Why would you do that?"

"Well, I didn't really feel like being persecuted for being a Divine Dragon," Xane said flatly, but then his smile returned. "But I guess that doesn't matter much anymore because I ended up getting locked up anyway!"

With a grumble, Roy mulled over Xane's response. It made sense to want to avoid persecution, but Xane seemed so lighthearted about it happening to him anyway, even after he went through the trouble to toss his dragonstone. Xane observed Roy's reaction curiously and tilted his head.

That coy smile grew on Xane's face once again. "Well, anyway. This has been really enlightening. I have some things I need to go do now, though, so…" he trailed off momentarily as he lowered his hands from where they were resting behind his head and winked. "I'll see you later!"

Before Roy could even hope to respond, Xane had already started to jog back towards the castle. The mercenary was left with one hand awkwardly raised as he stuttered, confused by Xane's sudden exit.

"Oh!" Xane turned on his heel and walked backwards as he shot Roy a grin. "You should probably go check on your princey and see how he's doing! I hear he's up and lively today!"

Roy's raised hand clenched into a fist as the heat rose to his cheeks, and Xane ran off. Frustratedly, Roy grumbled as he averted his eyes and lowered his hand. Though he would not admit it, he figured it was probably a good idea. He had not gotten the chance to see Marth much the last few days, with how preoccupied the prince had been since they liberated Altea.

It certainly made sense that Marth would have his hands a bit too full to make time for anything or anyone else, but Roy had been feeling a bit lonely nonetheless. A shudder ran down his spine as the breeze reminded him that he was still standing outside in the middle of a field, and he brought his left hand up towards his ear. He carefully rubbed it as he headed back towards the castle. They were longer, pointed, and felt rough to the touch—still wholly draconic.

A sigh escaped his throat as he lowered his left hand. He then flexed the digits on his right hand, and the heat from the crystal over his skin as he moved only served to further agitate him. There was far too much happening to him all at once to really be able to understand it anymore. Between his body going through so many unknown changes, being tailed by another manakete that hated him, and not knowing his own past, his patience had started to run a little thin.

As he approached the castle gates, the two guards that had been standing post both bowed towards him. His hand raised in a slight wave as he walked by, and the guards pressed open the doors for him. It was a little strange seeing others treat him that way—like they were somehow subservient to him—and he held back a frown as he entered the castle.

Castle Altea was significantly improved compared to how it was a few days ago. Much of the grime, dirt, blood, and debris were cleaned from the floors and walls. Statues that lined the grand hall were unfortunately still crumbling away—a sad shadow of what they once were—and old tattered banners and linens had been pulled from the walls, presumably to be discarded. Everything seemed very barren.

This, of course, did not help Roy as he began to meander the castle halls. With nary a thing to make one hall stand out from the next, and with various people—some he had never seen before and some he had fought alongside—darting every which way, he found himself lost. Eventually he stood at the intersection of a few halls as he watched people hustling around, carrying bits of this and that, as if they were searching for or gathering various items. He spared a moment to wonder what it was all about, but figured they were probably just trying to recover whatever they could from the old royal family.

The thought made Roy's mood drop further. All these people fretting over the belongings of a king and queen that were long gone. Relics of a country once great, now in shambles, being collected as people mourned their loss.

He wondered how Marth was taking it.

His expression must have been particularly dark. Malledus, having just exited a room not too far down the hall, noticed Roy and curiously made his way over to the brooding redhead.

"Roy," Malledus called, which drew Roy's attention towards him.

"Ah, Malledus," Roy said with a nod. "Nice to see you. How are you faring?"

Malledus rubbed his fingertips against the book in his hand. "I should ask you the same thing. I am doing well, though you seem to be in quite… low spirits. Is aught amiss?"

"Oh. Ah," Roy glanced to the cobblestone floor beneath them. "No, no. Everything is fine. I just was lost in thought, is all."

The elderly man hummed in understanding, and Roy looked back up towards him. "Hey, actually. Have you seen Marth anywhere? I was looking for him."

"Prince Marth? Actually, yes," Malledus said with a smile and nod. "The room that I just left—the old council room, just down the hall there- he and Princess Nyna should still be in there."

What a convenient relief, Roy thought to himself. "Great. Thanks, Malledus."

With a quick bow to the older man, Roy wasted no time as he jogged down the hall towards the old wooden doors that apparently led to the council room. He tilted his head back as he looked up the height of the doors. They were beautiful, built from some species of high-quality wood and lacquered, with various details and bronze reliefs around its edges. One particularly impressive relief was directly in the middle, split in halves between the two doors. Roy looked it over.

Underneath the dirt and specks of rust, he could make out the clear image of a man with long hair and warrior's armor, wielding a sword and shield. The sword was plunged into the body of a dragon, and a halo of light circled the man's head. In the clouds above there were winged people—angels—overlooking the scene, and people below the man's feet had their hands raised in cheer.

It seemed that the story of man versus dragon truly did extend quite far into history.

He frowned slightly as he examined the imagery for a few moments longer. Finally, he raised his hand to quietly rap his knuckles on the door.

The voice that responded was muffled, but Roy could clearly recognize it as Marth's. "Come in," Marth said.

Roy pressed his palm to the door and pushed it open just enough that he could step inside. His eyes trailed around the room before finally settling on the only other people that were in there: Marth and Princess Nyna.

A smile graced Marth's features once he saw his visitor. "Roy! Good afternoon."

Roy returned the smile. "Good afternoon, Marth. Princess Nyna."

Princess Nyna bowed her head in greeting. "Good afternoon."

Upon glancing around the room once again, Roy looked to Marth, and then to the Princess. "If I'm interrupting, I can come back later."

With a gentle laugh, Princess Nyna waved her hand. "No, you are not interrupting. We were just discussing a few more political topics, though now we are more or less finished," she said. "In fact, I should go find Hardin to relay some of what we've discussed here…"

Her voice trailed as her gaze flicked between Roy and Marth. Roy blinked once as she surveyed the two of them. Another smile tugged at her lips. "Yes, I should certainly go do that. I shall see the two of you later," she added before looking directly to Marth, "And Marth, congratulations once again on liberating your homeland. Altea has a bright future ahead of her, now."

The young prince's cheeks flushed at her praise, and after a mumbled thanks, Princess Nyna bowed. She walked towards the door, and Roy stepped back to hold it open for her as she exited the room.

Their eyes met as she stepped by him, and her smile only grew. "Thank you, as well, Roy. You fought very bravely."

Her compliment took him by surprise, and he averted his gaze as he cleared his throat. "Oh… Don't mention it."

She said nothing further as she left the room and made her way down the hall. The heels of her shoes made a soft echo as she walked farther away, and Roy quietly pulled the door shut behind him once again. His eyes stayed trained on the wall to his left.

After a few moments of silence, Marth tilted his head. "Roy… is everything alright?"

A soft grumble escaped Roy's throat as he continued to glare at the stone wall. "Yeah… I'm fine," he mumbled before he finally brought his gaze back to Marth's. "What about you?"

"I am also doing… well, all things considered," Marth responded truthfully.

With an awkward nod, Roy elected to say nothing further. The prince squinted at him from across the room, and once he realized that Roy was not going to move from the door, he decided to close the distance between them himself. Upon hearing Marth's footsteps as he approached, Roy scrunched his nose.

Those footsteps stopped once Marth was not but a pace away.

"Something is wrong, Roy. What is it?" Marth asked gently, but firmly.

Roy's stomach churned as he loathed to entertain the question. "Really, I'm fine. It's nothing. I'm just… glad to see you're doing alright."

A soft chuckle escaped the prince's lips, and Roy felt his mood lighten considerably at the sound. "Well, you were the one who fainted initially, so if there is anyone to be concerned about… it would be you," Marth said.

Roy raised his head to finally look to Marth, and his brow raised in unison. "… And you're the one who allegedly fainted on top of me, according to Cain. We were both a little bit exhausted."

Marth's cheeks tinged pink again as he laughed. "I suppose you are right."

The atmosphere had certainly lightened—the two of them were looking at each other with smiles on their faces. As Roy searched Marth's eyes, he noticed a curious glint; almost as soon as he saw it, Marth let out a soft breath as he narrowed his eyes in thought.

"… Is… something wrong?" Roy mumbled questioningly. He suddenly felt as though he was being studied like a scholar would study their texts.

Realizing his stare could be taken the wrong way, Marth quickly leaned back a little. "Ah, no. My apologies. Nothing is… wrong, per say."

The confusion was evident on Roy's face, and Marth smiled sympathetically as he attempted to clarify. "Nothing is wrong. Just… different."

The meaning behind Marth's words registered instantly and Roy recoiled a little as his condition was brought to the forefront of his mind. "Oh. Right," he muttered, clearly unhappy.

While his right arm and half of his torso were covered in crystal, the rest of him had begun to change, too. Small, semi-translucent teal scales—almost too small to notice unless one was close enough—freckled the skin under his eyes and part of his neck. They covered his shoulders and left hand, too, though thankfully those were mostly hidden by his clothes. His ears were pointed and scaled, with the faintest hint of blue at their tips.

And, of course, if those changes had not been obvious enough, his once-red hair now had very visible stripes of teal in it as well. In short, he felt very much inhuman.

He had been so distracted by his own critical internal monologue that he almost missed Marth's question.

"May I… touch one of your ears?" Marth asked quietly.

A few blinks bespoke Roy's obvious confusion, and Marth immediately began to retract his request. "I—I apologize, perhaps I should not have asked—"

"—I… I guess," Roy mumbled, and Marth's breath caught as he stopped his stammering.

"… Really? Are… you certain?" Marth asked again.

"… Yeah. You're the only person I… think I feel comfortable enough with to do it, though," Roy said as he averted his gaze. "So… go ahead, if you're curious…"

Though Roy gave him permission, Marth still hesitated. His lips pursed into a thin line as he debated whether or not he should attempt to reach out his hand. Roy, having taken note of Marth's uncertainty, reached out to take Marth's right hand in his, and pulled it up carefully to his left ear. Marth's hand stiffened as his fingertips touched the scales along Roy's earlobe. Even though one could barely see the scales on Roy's skin, Marth could certainly feel them—they overlapped like the scales of a fish, and trailed down the entire length of Roy's ear, all the way to the pointed end.

Roy found himself suppressing a shudder. Perhaps this had been a bad idea—the heat rose to his cheeks and he held his breath as Marth curiously examined his fin-like ear.

"How fascinating…" Marth mumbled.

"Is that so…" Roy grumbled as he did his best to keep himself held together.

It seemed that Marth had been completely oblivious to Roy's reaction to the Prince's continued touching. With a gruff, quiet sigh, Roy bit the inside of his cheek.

"… Marth," he said as his voice grew increasingly rougher.

"Yes?" Marth responded as he turned his attention to Roy's face.

Roy was staring directly at him as stoically as possible, though his cheeks were completely red. "… They're kind of sensitive," was all he could manage to mutter.

Marth's face immediately flushed as red as Roy's and he retracted his hand so quickly, it was as if he had touched fire. "Oh, I am so sorry—I did not mean to—"

With a rumbling breath, Roy cupped his hand over his clearly overstimulated ear. "No… no, it's okay. I didn't really know either…" he said. "I don't even understand why they're still like this in the first place…"

The embarrassment Marth had felt was almost immediately overshadowed by concern, and he shifted on his feet. "What do you mean?"

Roy shrunk a little in self-consciousness. "Aren't I supposed to be back to normal now? Bantu doesn't have ears like this I don't think… nor does he have the scales…"

It was clear that he was troubled by his appearance, and Marth quietly looked him over in consideration before his eyes rose back up to Roy's face—though the redhead refused to reciprocate Marth's eye contact.

"… Perhaps he does not… but I certainly find them endearing. From your ears, to your scales, and even the teal in your hair," Marth commented.

Roy's entire body stiffened as the heat rose to his cheeks once again. "… Endearing, huh?"

Marth smiled at Roy's reaction. "Certainly. It's nice to be able to see more of you."

Roy immediately looked to Marth with an incredulous, almost embarrassed expression, and his fingers twitched. Marth, clearly unaware of what caused Roy's bewildered response, stared at him with a similar look.

After a moment, Roy could only manage to bring his hand to his head before he dragged it down his face. "Marth… you…" he started awkwardly, but then shook his head with a sigh. "… Nevermind. Forget I said anything. Thank you."

The prince's brow raised, still completely unaware of what caused Roy to react the way he did, but he decided to let the subject rest. With a small nod, he rested his own hand back on Roy's, and Roy glanced down towards their hands.

"Is that what had your mood so sour earlier?" Marth questioned, and Roy's silence was enough of an answer for him. "… Roy… please do not be so self-conscious. It is a new experience for you, so perhaps you will tame it in time. That was why you held yourself back against Fafnir, was it not?"

Roy's gaze immediately snapped up to meet Marth's. The prince was quite keen when it came to certain things, and Roy's muscles relaxed as he laced his fingers in Marth's.

"Yeah, you're right. That was part of it," Roy admitted.

The gentle way that Marth approached the subject made it a lot easier to navigate. "Just part of it?" Marth asked. "I trust that you knew you were making the proper call when you spared his life. But… I do wonder, what was it that went through your mind in that moment that made you lower your blade?"

Roy gently rubbed the pad of his thumb against Marth's knuckle as he glanced away in thought. There was a statue along the wall at the far end of the room of an armored horse and paladin, and parts of it were broken and chipped from neglect. He mulled over the events of just a few days prior, and the way that Fafnir had taunted him during their fight.

"… It seemed like he knew a lot about me," Roy said as he continued to stare at the statue. "Not just me… but my family, too. I realized if I had killed him there, I would lose the only real lead I had to my past. Then what? Would I never remember?"

His grip tightened on Marth's hand absentmindedly as he squinted. The statue's arm, that had once clearly been raised and holding a sword, had been broken off. "… Not to mention, at that point he was completely at my mercy. No weapon, nothing. He was thoroughly beaten. But…" Roy paused. "… It was almost like he was about to ask for me to kill him. Like he wanted to die."

At that, it was Marth's turn to squint. "What do you mean?"

Roy's gaze continued to bore into the statue as if he was quietly asking it for answers. "It was as if he was about to ask me to… end his suffering. But he stopped himself before he finished talking. Maybe I'm just imagining it…"

Silence fell between the two as Marth mulled over Roy's words. Finally, he returned Roy's firm grip. "Roy, look at me," he said.

At Marth's request, Roy turned his head back to look down to Marth, who had been looking directly into his eyes. There was an air of authority about the Prince that parched Roy's throat, and he swallowed.

After a few more almost agonizing moments of quiet, Roy finally asked, "Marth? What is it?"

"You need to stop doubting yourself," Marth said firmly.

Roy, who now felt thoroughly outed, shifted on his feet and tilted his head up a bit to look at the ceiling. "I'm not sure where this came from…" he mumbled.

Marth, on the other hand, was having none of it. "In the heat of battle, you make decisions that save lives… you put your own life on the line for others, and you still come out victorious. You are strong, smart, and care for your comrades… you even care for those that oppose you on the field. And yet outside of battle… outside of war councils… you constantly doubt yourself."

With a few rapid blinks, Roy glanced back down towards Marth as he took in the prince's words. Marth was certainly right—though Roy had been through many battles by this point, and he was confident in the field, he still held a lot of self-doubts.

Self-doubts that were only further highlighted by his continuing degradation.

"I know it is certainly rich coming from me, as I doubt myself quite often as well. But you… need to give yourself more credit," Marth finished.

After a few moments of silence, Roy managed a smile. "Only after you start doing the same. Then we'll talk."

Marth could not help but chuckle at Roy's response. "I will work on it."

The smile on Roy's face widened as he gently pulled Marth in for an embrace. His eyes closed as he bowed his head just enough to bury his face into Marth's hair. He must have had the opportunity to bathe, for he smelled of rosemary and clove. A curious choice, though certainly not unpleasant; perhaps Marth had still been feeling sore from their battle, so he had bathed in herbs. With a quiet exhale, Roy relaxed his muscles, which had still been quite tense, and he rubbed the fingertips of his right hand into Marth's back absentmindedly.

A small shiver wracked Marth as he returned the embrace. Roy's body temperature felt significantly colder than it had before. The shivering drew Roy's attention, and he pulled his head back enough to look to Marth's face.

"Is something wrong?" Roy asked. "You're shivering… Oh."

The realization that he was the reason behind Marth's trembling caused him to grimace. Shame overtook him, and with a muttered apology, Roy loosened his arm to pull away. Marth's own hand stopped Roy before he could do so, however. Gently, Marth gripped the back of Roy's sleeve and he shook his head.

"No," Marth said quietly. "I will embrace the cold. Please do not apologize for who you are."

At a complete loss for words, Roy stared down at Marth with wide eyes. The two of them held each other's gazes as Roy searched Marth's eyes for any sign of uncertainty; upon finding none, Roy pressed his lips together into a thin line.

Beckoned by a gentle tug on his sleeve from Marth, they embraced again, and Roy pressed his nose into the top of Marth's head. His eyes clenched shut, and he bit the inside of his lip.

Marth had shown him nothing but kindness and acceptance. His heart ached as he fought back the tears that threatened to prick at his eyes. If Marth could find it in himself to accept Roy and how he had changed since they first met, Roy could find it within himself to accept himself, as well.

After all, these draconic features were from his mother—and at this point, she was the only family he knew anything about. Maybe he should accept it as it is and forgo the increasing shame. Would his mother be upset with him for how much self-hate he had? Had she struggled the same way? Did she have the same doubts?

If only he could ask her, he thought—but that was a lot easier said than done.

What he did know, however, was that the person in his arms right now accepted him the way he was. Marth accepted the inhuman parts of him just as much as he did the human parts.

At the end of it all, perhaps that was the only thing that truly mattered.

"… Roy," Marth mumbled into the front of Roy's cape, and Roy hummed into Marth's hair in response. "… Please… do not leave my side."

The tone of Marth's voice had shifted dramatically from the confidence it held earlier; his voice had shrunk, full of weariness and emotion that he had tried his best to keep bottled up.

This commanded Roy's full attention, and the redhead furrowed his brow as he leaned back enough to look to Marth's face again. Blue eyes were tiredly focused forward as Marth stared at the fabric wrapped around Roy's neck.

"… Marth… Why would you say that?" Roy asked quietly.

After a moment of pause, Marth closed his eyes. "… I have lost my father… my mother. And perhaps even my sister at this point…" he said, his voice holding the ghost of a quiver. "… Though I have… regained my homeland, it will never be the same. This castle… will never be the same. My family will never be the same. I…"

Those tears that had been threatening Roy earlier now challenged Marth—though the Prince was unable to hold them back as they trailed down his cheeks from the corners of his clenched eyes. Roy shifted in Marth's grip and he pulled his right hand up to Marth's cheek. He gently wiped the tears from beneath Marth's eye with his thumb. He couldn't feel the wetness through the crystal over his skin, though he was too preoccupied with Marth to pay too much attention to his own lack of senses.

"Hey…" Roy whispered.

Marth quickly shook his head as he tried to press back, away from Roy. "I-I apologize, I should not be unloading all of this onto you—"

Roy exhaled audibly as he pulled Marth back in close to him. "No. If I'm not allowed to apologize, then neither are you," he said sternly, before his voice softened. "Besides… You've been through so much. It's not good to keep your emotions bottled up… We're both pretty bad at that. Let's work to fix it."

Marth swallowed hard as his eyes stayed clenched.

"… I promise I'm not going anywhere," Roy said quietly. "I swear to you."

Roy's promise caused a surge of emotion to well up in Marth's chest, and his eyes opened even though tears once again threatened to spill. He glanced up to meet Roy's eyes.

"… You really mean that," Marth mumbled, half questioning.

"Of course I do," Roy responded with a smile. "I… honestly don't know where I would have ended up had you not found me that day in Galder. At first, I joined your army because I owed you my life… and because I was lost with nowhere else to go. Then, I stayed, because I had grown to view all of you as my friends… and you earned my respect."

His face heated up just slightly, and his fingertips curled so that he could brush his knuckles against Marth's cheek. "And now, I promise to stay, because my loyalty… my soul, is yours. I swear it."

There had been the bite of a growl hidden deep in the timbre of Roy's voice as he uttered those last words. What Marth could only describe as a blaze of magic burned within Roy's irises as he held Marth's gaze, unwavering.

In a way, the whole thing had been practically breathtaking.

Is this what it was like to be blessed with a dragon's affections?

Marth found himself at a loss for words, and his mind raced. His fingers twitched against the fabric of Roy's sleeve, and before he could even realize it himself, he had closed the distance between them.

Roy's heart pounded and his eyes widened—Marth's eyes were clenched shut, and his lips were pressed firmly to Roy's own. Both had flushed various shades of red at Marth's gesture, and after a few long moments, Marth slowly pulled away.

Neither of them said anything for a time. Marth only looked away, red-faced, as Roy stared at him with an expression akin to bewilderment. Though Roy's lips were parted, he was completely incapable of any speech.

Finally, he dug deep within himself to figure out something—anything—to say.

"… I…" he inhaled, shakily, as he tried to steady himself, "… I wasn't expecting that."

Marth could barely manage a chuckle—his embarrassment was all too crushing at that moment—and he continued to stare at the ground to his side. "… I… was not, either. Something must have just… come over me, or—"

"—It's fine," Roy interjected. "I—I didn't mind it. I…"

Marth hazarded a glance Roy's way, and now it had been Roy's turn to tilt his head to the side nervously. "… Really, I didn't mind it at all…" Roy muttered, cursing his tepidness.

In truth, he had been happy—incredibly so—that Marth had kissed him. He only hoped that Marth could see through his façade to see just how delighted he was.

Marth must have been able to tell, for he straightened his back as some of his confidence returned to him. "Then… may I try once more," he asked, "Though this time, with a little more thought to it?"

The request momentarily caught Roy off-guard, but he looked to Marth anyway—the certainty in the Prince's eyes was completely different from the reservation they held just a moment earlier. Roy's heart skipped a beat and his left hand gripped Marth's tighter as he managed a curt nod.

Upon receiving Roy's approval, Marth drew in a breath.

If only his experience matched his confidence. Now he found himself wavering again.

A gentle tug on Marth's hand pulled him from his thoughts as he refocused on his comrade—his partner—before him.

Right. He could certainly do this.

Without waiting a moment longer, he leaned up before doubts could plague him again. At that same time, Roy leaned down as well.

Their lips met in a single, chaste kiss.

Though they held it for a few long moments, it had been far too short for them both. Upon parting, Roy rested his forehead to Marth's and they looked into each other's eyes.

"… That one went better. Though I still vote that we need to work on it," Roy mumbled, drawing a laugh from Marth that caused Roy to smile.

"Y-you… are right," Marth managed between chuckles, "I think I can agree."

Carefully, Roy unentwined their fingers and let go of Marth's hand so he could pull him into a full embrace. Marth returned the gesture and closed his eyes as he rested his head against Roy's shoulder.

The statue across the room held Roy's attention as he held Marth in his arms. The horse's front right hoof had been raised, with the left one pressed down into the neck of a dragon that was hissing back up at it. The paladin in the statue, when he had his sword arm, must have been preparing to deal the final blow to the creature. Roy considered the scene before he closed his eyes.

"… It may be a little unconventional," he mumbled, "With me being… a dragon, and all. A manakete. But I promise, I will be by your side until I breathe my last."

He then swiftly added, "… Which will definitely be a really long time from now."

Marth could not help but snort a little at Roy's quick save. "I should certainly hope so. There is no one else I would rather have at my side, manakete or not. Thank you, Roy."

"Yeah," Roy mumbled. "… Thank you, too. For everything."

A small hum was all he received in response as Marth relaxed. Roy could feel the tension in his body fade away as he closed his own eyes. For once, he allowed himself to indulge in this moment exactly how it was and furloughed his uncertainties for another day.