Sealed Memories has been revised 2020/02/01. Originally published in 2015.

Thank you to randomadorablepikachu for proofreading. And thank you to everyone for the reviews/favs/follows over the last 5(!) years. It means a lot to see such interest and I appreciate your time reading.

Sealed Memories

The sudden burst of magic and wind had been surprising—"surprising" being an understatement—to Prince Marth. Of course, even with how wild the initial magical outbreak was, finding the unconscious body of a young man lying amongst the charred rubble of one of the fireballs was even more astounding.

Since discovering the redhead, Marth and Abel had brought him back to one of the homes along the port at Galder, where they had laid him in a bed. Marth watched from the other side of the room as Wrys healed the mysterious person's injuries.

"He doesn't… look like he is from Altea," Abel spoke hesitantly as he watched from the other side of the room.

Marth shook his head. "No, he does not. But he also does not look like he hails from any other place, either. At least that I have seen…"

"He kind of looks like a mercenary," noted Castor. "If he does not claim any homeland… then I would not be surprised."

Abel frowned in contemplation. "Yes, but did you see his blade? Surely no mercenary would have a blade so…intricate, unless he was incredibly skilled."

Abel's comment caused Marth to turn his gaze towards the strange sword the redhead had been carrying when they found him. A hilt made of pure gold, encrusted with what appeared to be two pure sapphires and a strip of emerald.

And of course, the radiant red jewel in the middle.

It wasn't a ruby—Marth knew that for certain. It was like nothing he had ever seen before and it gave him a tight feeling in his chest.

". . . Marth?" Cain said with his eyebrow quirked, causing Marth to turn his attention to him.

"Yes, Cain?" Marth responded.

"You seemed pretty lost in thought, there," he said. "Is something wrong? Do you know about the sword?"

To this, Marth only shook his head. He certainly did not know anything, but he felt enough of that uncomfortable twinge in his chest that he found himself unable speak the actual words.

Soon, Wrys had finished healing the young man. "He is no longer hurt," he said and turned to Marth. "His condition is fair now, so he could wake up at any time."

"That's good, thank you Wrys," the young prince responded with a smile. The healer nodded and exited the room.

There were a few moments of silence as the small group stood by the door, unsure of what to say.

". . . So you said he… came from that ball of fire in the sky?" Cain asked.

"Yes. Either that, or he happened to be hit by it as he was walking through the field," Marth answered.

"I would assume he got hit whilst walking," Abel said. "There's no way someone could just… appear out of thin air in a fireball from the sky."

"That does seem far-fetched," Marth agreed. "I suppose we shall find out when he wakes."

A couple of hours passed, and the group had dispersed aside from Marth. He had gone out only one more time to check on the state of his allies and the people of the harbor, but he had been quick to return to the small house in which the mysterious young man was still resting.

The young prince found himself growing ever so slightly restless. He was not upset by the other's unconscious state—he was worried by it. What if he had sustained injuries that one could not heal? He did get struck by a ball of fire, after all.

With soft steps, Marth made his way over to the bedside. He looked down at the redhead's face.

". . . He seems so different," he whispered as he looked over the man's features.

Suddenly, there was the sound of sheets shifting. The unconscious one clenched his eyes slightly before letting out a low groan. Marth blinked a few times and his eyes widened slightly.

A pair of icy-blue eyes were tiredly looking back up at him.

There were a few stunned moments of silence as the prince stared back down into those cool blue eyes.

Marth was at a loss for words. His lips pursed, a sudden feeling of nervousness washing over him. He had waited quite some time for the other to wake, but now that he had woken, Marth had no idea of what to say.

". . . Where… am I?" spoke a quiet, groggy voice, effectively snapping the prince back into reality.

"A-ah," Marth stood up a bit straighter. "You are in a house on the port of Galder…"

The redhead stared up at the prince with hazy eyes and a confused expression.

". . . Galder," Marth spoke a bit more slowly. "It is a port town here near the island of Talys."

Once again, the prince was met with nothing but a confused stare. This caused him to frown a little.

"I see… so you don't remember where you are," he mulled quietly. ". . . Do you have a name?"

There was a long silence, as if the redhead was trying to remember, and his gaze drifted up to the ceiling as he thought.

". . . Roy…" he said slowly.

The prince smiled a little bit at that. "Roy… a unique name," he commented. "Well… I am Marth."

Roy slowly nodded as he processed the new information and turned his gaze to Marth's once more. "Marth…" he mumbled, doing his best to take note. ". . . What happened to me?"

"Some friends and I found you unconscious in the plains not far from here," Marth explained as simply as he could. "You had been struck with a rather large ball of fire… so we rescued you and brought you back here to heal."

"A ball of fire?" Roy repeated, as if he couldn't believe it. "I… don't understand…"

Marth shook his head. "I'm not quite sure how to explain it any other way…" he said quietly. "That is how it happened."

Roy was silent for a few more moments as he considered Marth's explanation. A few seconds later, he slowly began to sit up. The prince quickly rested his hand on Roy's back to help him.

"Be careful, you sustained many injuries… we had you healed, but it is still best not to push yourself too hard so soon," he advised.

"I should be fine enough to sit up…" Roy responded softly, though his voice was a bit hoarse. "I'm not feeling any pain, other than my head."

Marth nodded a little and the door to the room opened.

"Marth, si—oh!" came Abel's voice, causing both Marth and Roy to look to the door, "It seems you've finally woken up."

"Abel," the prince greeted with a smile, "Yes, Roy just woke up."

The green-haired cavalier nodded. "Roy, is it? Well… my name is Abel," he said as he walked into the room, "I'm glad to see you're doing alright. You took quite the hit out there."

Roy nodded slowly and Marth smiled. "Is there something you needed of me, Abel?"

"Yes, actually," Abel responded with a curt nod. "Could you come with me for a moment? I've a question for you about tomorrow's move."

"Of course. I'll be right out," the prince answered.

Abel smiled and nodded once more before leaving the room. Marth looked to Roy.

"I will be back soon, but for now, make sure to rest," he said before he stood. "Please excuse me."

With that, Marth turned and left the room, leaving Roy by himself. The young lion stared at the door as it closed behind the prince.

There were a few long moments of silence as Roy quietly stared, fixated on the grain in the wood as he did his best to try to remember anything.

Anything at all.

…

Nothing came to mind.

He strained, clenching his eyes as he dug deep into his mind in an attempt to figure out anything.

Still, absolutely nothing reached out to him. There was nothing but a dull, throbbing pain.

He couldn't remember a thing—it was like his past had all been sealed away into some dark corner of his mind that he just couldn't reach.

Roy let out a strained sigh before gripping his hair. "What happened to me…" he muttered.

The time that Marth was gone felt like ages. Roy slowly lifted his head from his hand and looked around the room once more, noticing a sword—his sword, though he did not know this now—leaned against the wall by the bed, safely tucked in its sheath. This caused him to squint. A few more moments went by before he let out a quiet sigh.

". . . I… cannot lie in this bed any longer," he said quietly as he moved to touch his feet to the floor.

Just as he was going to stand, Marth once again entered the room, this time accompanied by a young woman with hair as blue as his own. Marth blinked slowly and hurried to Roy's side when he noticed he was going to stand.

"Roy…! Hold on…!" Marth exclaimed as he rested his hand on Roy's shoulder, "Don't rush yourself."

"I will be fine," responded Roy, "I need to get up…."

Marth was hesitant to allow him to stand, but he removed his hand anyway. The redhead rose to his feet slowly and something small tumbled out from his shirt and fell to the floor with a soft clatter. Everyone's gazes shifted to the object on the floor.

A small semi-opaque stone, slightly chipped and jagged, rested on the old wood floor.

Marth furrowed his brow. ". . . What is that?" he asked before looking to Roy.

The redhead slowly knelt to the floor before carefully picking up the stone. He eyed it, turning it over a few times. Its reflective surface glinted and shined a bit in the light.

". . . I'm not sure," was his confused response. He rose to his feet again, his eyes never leaving the stone. "I don't remember."

The younger woman came over to him and looked at the stone herself. "I don't think I've seen anything like it before," she said. "But it doesn't look dangerous… it's just a small stone."

Marth nodded. "I didn't think it would be dangerous, but it is curious," he said. "Well… either way, it is a memento of yours, is it not?"

Roy nodded dumbly; his eyes were still fixated on the stone in his hand. A small sharp pain went through his mind.

A fuzzy silhouette was right in front of him and Roy was unable to move, as if someone was holding him still.

"…. s… go… t of… y…!"

A force hit him and he went flying back. The already unclear surroundings were sucked away into whiteness.

A pained groan left Roy's throat as he gripped his forehead with his free hand. The hand holding the stone tightened around it and his knees went weak. Marth was a little alarmed and put his hand on Roy's shoulder to keep him from falling over.

"Are you okay?" he asked, clearly worried.

"Y… yes… just a headache…" Roy answered slowly before raising his head again. The prince removed his hand once Roy was able to stand on his own again.

"Caeda, could you please bring Wrys back? Perhaps he has a medicine to help alleviate Roy's headache," Marth said to her.

Caeda nodded. "Of course. I'll go get him."

She left the room, leaving the two men by themselves. Marth let out a quiet sigh and Roy looked to him.

"Well… I am glad you are at least able to move around," Marth spoke and smiled slightly at Roy, "We were all worried you wouldn't make it at first."

Roy, made less tense by the prince's smile, returned the gesture. "Apparently a fireball isn't enough to take me down…" he replied.

Marth chuckled a little. "It seems so."

There were a few moments of silence between them before Marth spoke again.

"Say…. Roy," he started, choosing his words carefully. "Are you… a mercenary, by chance?"

This question caused the redhead to blink. "A… mercenary?"

"Yes, a mercenary," Marth reaffirmed, "As in, someone who pledges no allegiance to any particular country, kingdom, or army… but rather, can be employed to work for anyone he chooses."

"Ah… I might be… but I don't really remember," Roy answered, "Why do you ask?"

Marth was quiet for a moment. ". . . Well, you do look like one," he began, "Your clothes don't seem to match any country's that I've seen… as if you are your own person without any ties. And that sword is definitely not that of an ordinary soldier's or traveler's. It must have cost a small fortune… and skilled mercenaries are paid rather well."

Roy looked to the sword against the wall and then down to his own clothes. "I… suppose," he started before looking back up to him. "I do not pledge any allegiance to any country as far as I am aware…"

The prince stared into the other's eyes for a moment, as if analyzing the truthfulness of him and his words. He slowly nodded.

"Alright," he finally said, "In that case… how would you like to work as part of this army? To save my kingdom and my sister?"

Roy seemed surprised by the question. "You would trust me enough to just… let me join you?"

Marth nodded. "You have not given me a reason to distrust you," he responded. " This land is wrought with strife… and though I must be careful, I also cannot doubt the intentions of every person I meet. Therefore, I see no reason to rule you out as a potential comrade."

It took Roy, the newly titled mercenary, a few moments to process the prince's words. He slowly looked to Marth again before nodding a little.

"Then… I accept."

A smile formed on the young prince's lips. "I am glad to hear it. We will be leaving for the Samsooth Mountains in the morning… so I suggest you get some rest."

A small flicker of opposition flashed in Roy's eyes since he clearly did not want to lie back down on the bed. This caused Marth to laugh gently.

"Please, it is for your own well-being," he insisted.

Roy stared at him for a moment longer before letting out a small sigh. "Yes… I suppose you are right."

The mercenary sat back down on the bed and Marth turned to him.

"Well… I will see you in the morning," he said. "Wrys should come by soon to hopefully help you with your headache."

Roy nodded in understanding and Marth turned to leave. The redhead watched him as he left the room again, closing the door behind him. After he knew Marth was a safe distance away, he let out a groan as he fell back against the bed.

"… Who even am I?"