The Fall of Deil has been revised 2020/02/09. Originally published in 2016.

The Fall of Deil

Just as Zharov had commanded, the Akaneian League was met with the entirety of Doluna's forces that had been stationed at Castle Deil. Marth's soldiers were, without a doubt, heavily outnumbered, and even though Marth remained outwardly silent on the clear disadvantage his side was faced with, he had begun to feel nervous. The castle's prison walls were just ahead and a solid line of Doluna soldiers, from cavaliers to archers, had formed in front of it, facing the approaching rebel army.

Roy could sense Marth's nerves—in fact, they were almost beginning to overwhelm him the closer they got to the battlefield, as if Marth's own emotions were reaching out and pulling Roy's soul in. Because of this, he decided to catch up to the younger prince and tap his shoulder from behind.

"Marth," Roy said, causing Marth to look back.

"Oh, yes Roy? … What is it?" Marth asked.

"Don't be so nervous," Roy said quietly. "… We'll be fine. We'll take them out, rescue princess Maria and free Minerva, and then we'll continue on, just like we always have."

Something about Roy's tone was rather calming to Marth, and his shoulders relaxed slightly. ". . . You're right," he said. "This is no time to let my nerves take over me. Thank you for reminding me."

Roy smiled warmly and nodded at him.

Once they got close enough to Castle Deil's walls, Zharov's army charged, initiating the battle. Almost instantly there were soldiers yelling, weapons clanging, and bloodshed—though unlike past battles with other enemies, this one was being fought against soldiers and knights with much more finesse and knowledge of their weapons. On top of that, many of them were much better armed than previous enemies—Marth had noticed the glinting of a sea of silver weapons not owned by his own men out of the corners of his eyes as he fought.

Roy and Jagen had ended up fighting alongside each other once again—something that the older of the two of them never thought would become such a common occurrence.

"Roy, we need to clear a path inside," Jagen grunted as he slew an armored knight. "Princess Maria is in there, and we'll need to get Marth to her as quickly as possible before anything can happen to her!"

Roy was locked in a duel with another sword-wielding knight and clashed blades with him. "I'm… on it," Roy growled as he pushed the armored knight back. With a swift slash of his blade from left to right, he cut his enemy down. "Let's get going then!"

Jagen nodded. "Get on my horse," he said. "It will be easier to cut them down from here, and once we get to the entrance, you can dismount!"

Roy nodded slightly and, without a word, ran to Jagen's horse. He hoisted himself up behind Jagen and extended his sword to the right.

"Hyah!" Jagen shouted and his horse bolted.

With his silver lance, Jagen ran his enemies through on the left while Roy sliced them through on the right. Most enemies were taken off-guard by the two of them charging in on the same steed, making them easy targets.

Just like long before, Roy could feel a heat building up in his chest as he cut his enemies down one-by-one, their blood staining the fields. He let out a sharp breath through his nose.

Once they reached the entrance to Castle Deil's prison, Roy swiftly dismounted Jagen's horse.

"I will bring Prince Marth here next," Jagen said. "Will you be fine, holding enemies off on your own until he's arrived?"

Roy nodded curtly, his grip tightening on the hilt of his blade.

Jagen smiled a bit. "To think I would trust you enough now to let you go into this prison together with the prince," he said before turning his horse back around. "Life works in the strangest ways… hyah!"

Roy watched for a moment as Jagen rode back out into the fields to retrieve Marth. He shifted his sword in his hands before turning to enter the building, deciding to go ahead and clear out at least some of the hall on his own. Upon entering, however, he noticed that it was eerily still, unlike the chaos going on just outside the prison doors.

His eyes narrowed and he glanced around. Something was definitely wrong.

The sound of a bowstring snapping caused him to jolt, but by the time he saw the arrow, it was too late—the slender projectile had embedded itself in him, directly underneath his right shoulder. Roy let out a loud groan of pain and fell to a knee, grasping at the intruding object with his left hand. A group of soldiers ran out from the darkness around the corner up ahead and charged at him, their weapons drawn.

Roy glanced ahead of him and grunted as he yanked the arrow out of his body and tossed it to the side. Shakily he rose to his feet and, with a surge of power, he ran at the enemy horde alone. Any hesitations that he had about fighting earlier were quickly washed away by a primal urge. His mind was in a haze of pain and anger as he locked blades with one of his enemies.

"Wh—you… monster!" the man half-shrieked before his sword was swept out of his hands. Roy ran him through with his sword, swiftly killing him. The man's words had not reached Roy's ears, but they did reach the ears of the other soldiers.

"Monster…?!" one repeated and gripped his spear.

Roy glanced at him and frowned slightly—he could feel his skin crawl, and he could feel the fire in his chest burning hotter. The arrow wound in his shoulder was but a dull tingling now.

Jagen had gotten back to Marth and rode him through the battlefield to the entrance of the prison like he had done with Roy just a short while ago. Marth leapt off Jagen's horse and gripped the hilt of his blade.

"Be careful, sire," Jagen warned. "I'm certain the interior of the prison is well-guarded."

Marth nodded. "Without a doubt, yes. I will be careful."

Jagen bid Marth good luck before he rode back out into the field to fight once more. Marth pursed his lips and held his breath for a moment as he looked up at the prison walls.

"Well… here goes nothing!" he said to himself before running in.

The smell is what got to him first. The whole hall smelled like dirt, must, and blood. Marth couldn't help but cringe at the odor before he covered his nose with his left hand.

"Gods…" he muttered. There were enemy soldiers' corpses littering the floor, each of them killed by what looked like the stab of a blade to the chest or stomach.

"Rrragh!" came Roy's yell from down the hallway.

Marth ran down the entrance hall and to the connected hall on the right. His eyes widened in shock as he saw Roy cut cleanly through a guard's chest, right through his armor.

"Roy!" Marth shouted as the guard's body dropped to the floor.

The mercenary's back tensed up and he froze for a moment when Marth called out to him. Marth ran over to him and put his hand on Roy's shoulder from behind. "Hey!"

Roy shuddered and looked back to Marth quickly. For a moment, Marth swore he saw something red beneath Roy's eyes before it faded.

"Ma…Marth?" Roy stuttered, as if he had just been woken from a deep sleep.

"Gods, Roy, how did you…" Marth mumbled and turned him a little bit. "You're wounded!"

As soon as Marth brought attention to the arrow wound, Roy could feel it throb.

"Gah," he winced and put his hand over the still-bleeding spot. "I… I didn't notice…"

Marth glanced from Roy's hand to his face. Roy's eyes were tightly clenched, his lips were pursed, and though he looked normal now, Marth was sure he had seen something strange in his eyes just a few moments earlier…

However, the sound of a girl crying out for help quickly tore Marth's attention away from his comrade. Roy looked forward as well, his eyes still squinted.

"Do you think that's…" Roy started as Marth shook his head.

"There's no time to think about it right now, we need to go find out!" Marth looked to him. "Will you be alright to run?"

Roy nodded. "If one arrow wound could take me down, I wouldn't have made it this far," he mumbled. Marth couldn't help but smirk faintly before they ran down the hall to find the source of the scream.

A group of roughed up enemy soldiers were crowding in front of a cell that, from what the two of them could see, contained a young red-headed girl.

"Go away!" she shouted.

"No way hun," one of them growled. "You're coming with us! To let you fall into that bastard prince's hands…"

"'Bastard prince?'" questioned Marth out loud, drawing the group's attention to him and Roy.

"G-Gah! Damnit," one grunted as they all drew their weapons. "They're here already…?! Blast, charge!"

The mob of angered soldiers ran at Marth and Roy, and the two of them raised their weapons to fight back. The fight was a mess of stumbling and sloppy attacks from the enemy side, probably due to their own hastiness. Roy stepped back a few steps as he blocked an enemy's downward strike with his own sword. His arrow wound throbbed and he grit his teeth as he pushed the other man back before bringing him to a swift end.

Once the hall was cleared, Marth let out a sigh before glancing to the cell not but a few feet away. He went to the cell door and looked inside. "Ah! Are you…"

The young girl, who was standing back in the far corner, looked out to him. "Go away…! I don't… wait, are you…?"

"I am Prince Marth of Altea," Marth said. "You must be the princess…"

"Prince Marth!" the girl exclaimed and wiped her eyes before dashing up to the cell door. "Yes, I am! Oh, have you come to rescue me?"

He simply nodded. "Yes. We just need to find a cell key first and I will…"

"Marth," Roy said as he approached, the key to the cell door in hand. "This was on one of the soldier's belts."

"Ah? Is that the key?" Marth questioned. "If so, that makes this a lot easier."

Roy nodded and Marth stepped out of the way to let him get to the door. Roy inserted the key and turned it—a small, metallic click signaling the lock's opening.

"There we go," he said as he opened the door. Maria instantly rushed out to them.

"Thank you so much!" she exclaimed, looking to Marth. Her cheeks tinged pink as she held her hands together. "My sister will be so glad to hear you rescued me!"

Marth smiled. "I'm glad we got to you in time," he said. "Now let's get going, lest we want to get caught again."

Roy nodded in agreement. "You're right," he said before turning his gaze to Maria. "Is there any exit near here?"

"I think so," she said. "Down the hall here, to the left. I'm coming with you."

After a short pause, Marth nodded his head. "Alright, then let's head out," Marth said before going on ahead.

Roy allowed Maria to go before him, so he could protect her from any potential enemies from behind. There was a sparkle in her eyes whenever she looked ahead to Marth, and Roy caught himself frowning every time he noticed it. The young princess was clearly smitten with his comrade, and he found that a little bit off-putting.

It didn't take long for them to reach the exit and go outside, where they were met with the unsightly view of a ravaged battlefield once more. Thankfully however, since they left through the back door of the prison, there weren't many others out there at the time—most of the fighting was still taking place near the front of the structure.

"Princess Maria, please stay close to us," Marth said and looked back to her. "This is going to be dangerous, and we want to get you to your sister as safely as possible."

Maria nodded in understanding and Marth looked to Roy before heading out into the battlefield, his sword at the ready. Roy glanced around him, surveying the surrounding area as they made their way through the field.

Naturally during their trek they were met with some opposition, but not as much as they were expecting—even though the battle was still mostly being held near the front of the prison, the emptiness of the field between the prison and castle seemed strange.

"Marth!" Roy called out as a shadow quickly passed them from above. A slender spear embedded itself in the ground near them and Maria let out a frightened squeal. The two men quickly filed in front of Maria, both readying their weapons and prepared to fight. A familiar red-haired woman, perched atop a large, scaled wyvern, descended to the ground in front of them.

"Halt!" she yelled. "I, Princess Minerva of Medon, shall strike you down where you stand! Doluna will not fall to the forces of a rebel prince!"

"M-Minerva?!" Maria shouted from behind Marth and Roy. "Minerva! Sister! Wait!"

Maria quickly pushed between her two protectors and ran forward. Minerva seemed shocked and instantly moved to lower her axe. "Maria!"

Roy furrowed his brow before slowly lowering his sword. Marth did the same.

Minerva had leapt off her wyvern and ran to Maria, pulling her into a hug. "Maria! You're safe…!"

Maria cried and buried her face into her sister's chest, trying to stifle her tears. "Th-they saved me…! I didn't think I would ever see you again!"

Marth couldn't help but smile slightly at the exchange and glanced in Roy's direction. He stalled, noticing something unreadable about Roy's expression—was it jealousy?

Marth started to say something. "Roy…-"

"Prince Marth," Minerva said suddenly, drawing Marth's attention to her. "Thank you for saving my sister. I… honestly did not think you would do it… or, not that you would not, but that you could not. I see now that I was wrong. Please forgive me for attacking you, for this time and the time before."

Marth shook his head. "No, there is no need for an apology. I am just glad we were able to return your sister to you and keep her safe from harm."

Minerva agreed. "Yes, thank you. And now that she is back, I no longer have any reason to be tied to Doluna. I am finally free to fight back… hopefully, alongside your army."

There was a moment of surprise, and Marth blinked. "Ah? Would you truly wish to join us?"

"Yes," she said firmly. "If you will have me, I will gladly fight alongside you and put an end to this once and for all."

After a short pause, Marth nodded his head. "We would be honored to have you fight at our side, Princess Minerva."

Minerva bowed slightly. "Thank you, Prince Marth," she said and straightened.

"Of course," he responded. "Would you be willing to lead us to the castle ahead?"

"With pleasure," she said with a hint of anger in her tone. "If I may have my chance at revenge against this wicked empire, and against him."

Marth paused. "… Of course."

"… Just don't let your anger get the better of you," Roy suddenly interjected.

Minerva looked in his direction, her gaze sharp. "I wouldn't dream of ruining this opportunity. I will approach it as I approach any war, with a clear mind."

"Good," Roy said and nodded. "Then let's get going."

The scent of blood permeated the air as Roy, Marth, and Minerva cleared their way towards the room Minerva told them was the throne. General Zharov was still inside the chamber, surely waiting for them to come to him first.

As they battled their way through the halls, Marth couldn't help but notice something different about the way Roy was fighting. He seemed less refined and calculated—his movements were impulsive and swift, almost like there was some driving force behind his blade hand other than his own. It was subtle enough that others may not have seen it, but with how much time Marth had spent with Roy on the battlefield and sparring, Marth could see the changes clear as day.

"Maybe I am overthinking it," Marth thought to himself as he drew his attention away from Roy to block an enemy's blade. But even though he tried to push it aside, deep down inside he knew that something was wrong.

Eventually they made it to their destination. In front of them stood the massive, impressive throne room doors. Minerva said nothing and simply glanced back to Marth and her sister before pressing her palms to the doors and throwing them open. There was a rumble and groan as the doors parted and swung open. The three of them ran inside, and Maria tagged along behind them, keeping close to her sister.

At the very end of the room sat Zharov, the centre of all Minerva's disaffections, on the throne.

"So you've finally made it," Zharov spoke slowly, his tone deep with pure abhorrence.

Roy's eyes widened and a small twinge of pain shot through his head at the sound of Zharov's voice. He quickly bowed his head to grip his temples, his teeth gritting from the pain as a hazy flood of memories came back to him.

"Jealousy."
Ting.
"Hate."
Ting.
"Greed."
Ting.
"As long as humans exist… this madness will never end!"

Roy gagged and gasped for breath, his throat burning. He weakly gripped at Marth's arm to keep himself steady, and Marth quickly put one hand on Roy's back and another on his chest.

"Roy!" Marth shouted.

"G…ghah…." Roy coughed.

Zharov's eyes narrowed. "I see… so you're the one he told me about." His eyes closed. "No matter. My fight is with you, Minerva."

Minerva looked from her comrades to Zharov. "That it is," she said, pulling out Hauteclere as Zharov rose from his seat at the throne.

Reinforcements burst forth from the doors behind them and Marth quickly looked back. "Ah…!"

Roy winced and shook his head. "Marth… let go… we've got this," he mumbled and pushed out of Marth's grip carefully. "Minerva can take out Zharov… We'll take care of the reinforcements…"

Marth looked to Roy quickly. "Roy, you cannot push yourself—"

"Marth," he said again, looking straight at him. "If I don't fight, I'll just be dead weight here. There's… no other choice."

Marth tensed and the sound of an explosion from Minerva's direction made him glance that way. Minerva had already begun attacking Zharov, and the two of them were locked in a heated duel.

"… Alright," Marth said. "Then let us fight and keep them from disrupting Minerva! Maria, stay behind us!"

The two swordsmen kept themselves busy with the reinforcements as Minerva battled Zharov, her former general. Though Zharov was incredibly powerful, Minerva's sheer force of will was beginning to prove to be too much for him to handle. The blade of Hauteclere clashed against Zharov's steel lance, making sparks fly. Her teeth grit as she put all her power behind her axe, and Zharov's knees began to buckle.

"Tch-!" he coughed out before swinging his lance enough to force her back.

He could barely regain his footing before Minerva was back in front of him, swinging her axe in from the side. He pulled his lance over to block the blow, and their weapons collided once more—this time, however, the Hauteclere sliced right through the damaged lance, and gouged through his ribs.

Zharov was clearly taken by surprise and his eyes bulged before he began to cough up blood. "Y-you-!"

"Quiet!" Minerva yelled, raising her axe. "You will have no final words!"

With one swift, final strike through his neck, Zharov's eternal silence was finally assured.

After the defeat of Zharov, the last of the forces at Castle Deil surrendered or fought until defeat. Many of Marth's soldiers were tired or wounded from the hard-fought battle, and Marth ordered a night of rest for everyone.

"We will march forth to the Millennium Court after this," he had said. "So, make sure to heal and rest before then. I am counting on all of you..."

Roy had been injured during the fight against the reinforcements within the castle—another arrow, curse them—and was being tended to by Lena. She tried to make some conversation with him, but he was too preoccupied with his own thoughts to say much in response to her. She didn't seem to take much mind of his short answers- or if she did, she didn't say anything about it- and when she finished healing him, he thanked her before she went on her way.

He glanced around him before slowly and, he hoped sneakily, walking away from the others. Once again his mind began to be wrapped in a haze and he stumbled behind a large rock in the field not too far from the rest of the group, but in such a way that the rock would hide him from his comrades' eyes. He dropped to his knees almost instantly and doubled over, gripping his hair with one hand and grasping at his chest with the other. His breath caught in his throat as nausea began to wrack his body.

Roy gagged and coughed, moving the hand that was in his hair over his mouth.

"Are you mad?"

Roy's gut wrenched and his fingers trembled from numbness. His memories twisted into something of a nightmare as the man's voice grew darker and deeper, and much less human.

"I can sense the envy inside you, present even in the very marrow of your bones. What are you after here? This world is not your own, and yet you fight. Why? Don't you just want to go home? You know you don't belong here. You've known all along. You've just been too scared to admit it."

A small groan of pain escaped his lips as he curled up, wrapping his arms around his stomach and curling his fingers into the fabric of his shirt at his sides. His eyes were clenched tightly, and his face was pale. A cold sweat was beginning to form over his skin, and his arms quivered.

Marth had been looking for Roy in the group before noticing his absence. Concerned, Marth asked around to the others to see if any of them had seen where Roy had gone. Julian pointed Marth in the direction he had last seen Roy going, which was towards that rock he had hidden himself behind. Marth thanked him before heading over.

As he got closer to the rock, he heard low groans of discomfort. Suddenly struck with worry, he hurried around to the other side to see Roy still there, curled up tightly in a trembling ball, his forehead almost touching the ground. The sight before him was similar to the last time at Pyrathi, when Roy stowed himself away in the shadows to suffer alone.

"Roy…!" Marth exclaimed before coming to his side. He knelt beside him and put a hand on his back. "Oi…!"

"N-no… no… you're wrong…" Roy muttered into the grass, not hearing the words of his comrade at first.

"Roy!" Marth called out again before shaking him slightly.

"Ngh…?!" Almost instantly the voice in Roy's mind was cut short, and the horrible feelings that were gripping his body vanished. He inhaled sharply before quickly moving to sit up.

Marth noticed how pale his face was. "Roy... Roy, are you okay?" he questioned firmly. "Can you hear me?"

"… Y…eah," Roy mumbled quietly. His eyes looked almost blank as he stared forward. "… It was just another memory… that's all…"

"A memory….?" Marth repeated. "What of? What terrible memory would have you so sick?"

The expression on Roy's face made it clear he wasn't sure of how to answer. "… It was just a voice, and the shadow of a man… He was huge… but…" his voice trailed off.

"… But…?" Marth attempted to help him along.

"… It just got all jumbled and overwhelming, like a raging fire in my mind," he lied. "It made me feel sick, and I couldn't move. Then you snapped me out of it."

There was a silence that fell between them for a few moments as Marth processed what Roy told him. Something didn't seem quite right with Roy's story, but Marth couldn't bring himself to push Roy any farther.

"Alright," he said. "… Roy. If this happens again, especially on the battlefield, please fall back. I don't want you getting hurt because of something like this, like what happened today and the… arrows." He made sure to put emphasis on the fact Roy had been wounded twice.

"… Right," Roy mumbled and nodded. "I'm sorry for worrying you. I'll try to be less of a burden from now on."

Marth shook his head. "No, you misunderstand. You are far from a burden. It's just that… you are too important an asset to us… and…" he stopped, as if trying to find the right words, before he shook his head. "No. You are much too important a friend to me. I do not want you being put in unnecessary danger, especially if you begin to feel ill." He felt like could have said much more, but decided it would be best for them both to keep it short.

"Marth…" Roy mumbled. "… Thank you… I will do the best that I can…"

Marth nodded. "That is all I could ever ask of anyone here, including you. We will work together. Thank you, too, Roy."

Roy nodded almost dumbly at the statement. Marth smiled gently and got up before holding his hand out to his friend.

"Can you stand?" he asked.

Roy hesitated before nodding again and taking Marth's hand. With the prince's help, he got back to his feet, albeit a tad wobbly.

"We have quite the battle ahead of us at the Millennium Court," Marth said to him. "Please… make sure to rest well before then."

"I will," Roy said with a nod. "You, too."

Marth couldn't help but smile a little once more. "Of course."

From afar, a cloaked figure watched as Marth and Roy returned to the others. He closed his eyes and a smirk slowly formed on his lips.

"How cute," he muttered to himself. "But alas. Even when one of them cares, the other is too concerned about what his mind is telling him to tell them the truth."

The tome in his hand closed with a light pat.

"I wonder how long he will hold up before he finally… snaps. Something tells me that the prince won't be ready for it when it happens."