Two updates... wow is this what muse feels like? *thinking*...

Thank you for your reviews and views/favs/follows/etc... I am genuinely really shocked, so thank you ;_; you are all really kind.

If there were two words I had for this story... it would be "slow burn"... oow. I hope you enjoy this next chapter. Thank you for reading this far :-)

Twisted by Honesty

Marth and his comrades dashed through the corridors of the palace, cutting enemies down as they proceeded further into its depths. Thankfully it seemed most of the enemy soldiers were focused on what was going on outside, meaning the castle itself was a little easier for them to navigate and search for whatever prisoners were still inside.

"Princess Nyna had mentioned in our travels that there were prisoners kept here, but where…" Marth mused as he glanced around a corner and down one of the other corridors. The group had split into two smaller groups—Julian and Cain were with Marth, while Abel and Jeorge went up to the higher level to deal with the snipers while they were still disoriented by lingering smoke.

Julian squinted as he knelt below Marth and looked around the corner down the same corridor. "Well, looks like that way heads downstairs, so… maybe they've got themselves a dungeon?"

Marth hummed in response and nodded a little. "Likely. Though I'm sure that we will be met with opposition down the way…"

Cain shifted his weight and looked to Marth. "Yeah, the hall's a bit too quiet for it to not be a trap. But do you want to go for it? Or should we wait for Jeorge and Abel?"

The prince pondered this as he touched his knuckle to his chin. After a few moments, he shook his head a little. "No. We haven't the time—the longer we wait here, the more opportunity the enemy has to harm whatever prisoners are left."

Cain nodded. "Makes sense," he said. "I'm not one to turn down a fight, so consider me in."

Julian stood up straight and nodded in agreement. "Yep. And I can try to pick open those locks if you keep 'em distracted."

A brilliant idea—perhaps that was why Jagen had Julian come with them. Marth smiled and readied his blade. "Then let's not waste any more time, then."

The three of them sped down the hall and to the steps leading to the lower level. Upon descending the stairs, they were immediately met by the sound of weapons being drawn and the command to charge. Steel clashed as Marth, Julian, and Cain were attacked by enemy soldiers that had clearly been waiting for them. Even though they were outnumbered, the three of them were able to hold their own well and were able to fell a few of the enemy soldiers quickly.

"C-commander Heimler, they're a lot stronger than they look…!" one of the mages exclaimed, panicked.

Heimler clicked his tongue. "No matter. Even if they kill all of you, they won't be able to get past me. And if they try, I can just take those prisoners' lives with me, and that brat prince will be left with nothing."

The commander's coldness was palpable, and Marth was appalled by how quickly he would be willing to throw his own men's lives away. "How could you…" he barely muttered behind grit teeth as he pushed an enemy soldier back with his blade.

Cain rode forward and cut the soldier down. "Marth," he said. "Now's not the time to feel sorry for them. We've got prisoners to rescue and a palace to rout."

Though Marth was troubled, he could not deny that Cain was right. They were there to save the prisoners and reclaim the throne for Princess Nyna. He closed his eyes momentarily before opening them again and raising his sword to the enemy commander. "Commander Heimler… in the name of the Akaneia, I will strike you down here and now!"

Heimler grinned darkly. "I'd love to see you try."

Abel grunted as he pulled his lance from yet another enemy sniper's chest. Not too far away, Jeorge let loose an arrow, hitting a soldier that had just run up the steps to the top floor where they were.

"Not fast enough," Jeorge mused before he glanced to Abel. "Abel, we're almost clear up here."

Abel spun his lance to whip the blood off, paying the red liquid no mind as it splattered across the palace floor. "Right. And the few that remain have run off to hide… perhaps we should go find prince Marth—"

His words were cut short by the deafening sound of a deep roar from outside—the walls shook, and small bits of debris dropped from the ceiling to the floor from the vibration. Both Jeorge and Abel were taken by surprise and Jeorge took no time to nock a new arrow as he raced to the balconies to see what the commotion was. Abel followed him in short order.

"What in the blazes—" the cavalier started before his breath caught in his throat.

Down below, a familiar fire dragon was stumbling and whipping itself about.

"Is that Roy-?!" Jeorge started before another roar interrupted him.

A huge scaled tail came flying at the side of the castle near them, crashing into it and causing a huge quake. Both Jeorge as well as Abel's horse barely kept their balance from the severity of the tremor.

"Shit," spat Jeorge. "We need to get back downstairs or else we'll end up toppled in the rubble!"

Without hesitation, both of the men ran from the balcony, just in time for a wall of flame to scorch where they had just been standing.

Down below, Caeda and Jagen—the latter of which had taken Merric on his steed—had escaped the trampling of draconic feet and made it farther away, where they met with Maria, Minerva, Bantu, Gordin, Hardin, and Princess Nyna. They looked on as their comrade thrashed about in a rage.

"This is not good," Hardin grunted, agitated. "Your friend has lost his mind. At this rate, there will be no castle to save."

The elder paladin shook his head and looked back to Merric. "Merric," he started, grabbing the mage's attention, "What in the seven hells is that spell that Volzhin cast?"

Merric was clearly flustered and shook his head quickly. "I… I have no idea, I've never seen it. Not even during all of my studies."

The group fell silent for a moment. Another tremor from a crashing tail caused Minerva to press her lips into a thin line as she gripped the hilt of Hauteclere.

"We've no time to sit here pondering," she said, drawing everyone's attention to her. "We either deal with the problem, or we will be getting dealt with soon enough."

Minerva's words caused Gordin and Maria to look to one another, both clearly uncomfortable. Maria looked to her sister. "But Minerva… that's our friend…"

The elder sister's eyes closed as she shook her head. Her voice was level. "It doesn't matter right now what he might be. Right now, he is a crazed monster, wrecking the capitol."

The tension in the air was thick as everyone considered her words. After a moment, Bantu spoke up.

"I will keep him busy," the old manakete said as he glanced to the others. "There is something holding him back… his mind is not totally lost; use the time I grant you to find the prince and put an end to Volzhin."

Jagen narrowed his eyes at Bantu. "Bantu, are you sure about this?"

Bantu looked up to Jagen, his eyes piercingly red as he had already begun to channel the energy from his own dragonstone. "Though you are strong, dragon against dragon is more of a level playing field," he said. After a moment of hesitation, Jagen nodded in understanding.

"I see. Then we will take this opportunity. Thank you, Bantu," he said.

Minerva got onto her wyvern once more and looked to Caeda. "Caeda. Will you join me in an attack on Volzhin?" she questioned, taking it upon herself to lead the charge against the enemy mage. Caeda nodded and gripped her javelin.

"I'll stay out here too," Merric said as he hopped off of Jagen's horse. "If that's okay. Magic versus magic and all that…"

Minerva seemed pleased, though her expression was unchanging. "That sounds like a plan. Maria, go with Jagen and Hardin—it's safer that way."

The young cleric went to protest, but was silenced by her sister's gaze. "… Okay, Minerva," Maria conceded sheepishly.

Princess Nyna quietly watched the young dragon as he thrashed about outside of the castle. She could practically sense the turmoil as he seemed to be fighting whatever it was that gripped him. Her thoughts were interrupted by Hardin's hand on her shoulder. She turned her attention to him.

"Princess," Hardin began, "Come with us into the castle so we may find Prince Marth and those that have been kept hostage."

She only nodded at that, electing not to speak about what she saw just yet. "When we enter the castle, please take me to the throne… there is something there I need to give the prince," she requested, as she shifted her eyes to the fire dragon before them once again. With their plans set, they split into two groups—one that was led by Minerva to attack Volzhin and keep Roy at bay, and the other led by Jagen, to locate Marth. As Jagen's group departed to enter the castle, Minerva turned to Bantu.

"I'm putting my trust in you," she muttered, and Bantu only let out a slight breath in response as he closed his eyes.

The heat generated was nearly immeasurable; Roy must have sensed it as well, as his thrashing momentarily halted as his head whipped around to look back towards them. Flame devoured the old manakete as his body grew and morphed into a towering fire dragon. Bantu roared, the low timbre of the elder dragon's voice reverberating through the air and shaking anything still living down to their very bones.

Volzhin only laughed. "Oh, no, now this is interesting," he taunted under his breath. "It's a shame this tome only works on one dragon at a time… but perhaps it's better that way!"

With a wave of Volzhin's hand, Roy's body convulsed and a strangled growl left his throat, as if the mage had given him a silent order.

Both dragons ran at each other, brick and dirt being crushed beneath their feet under every heavy step as they collided. Talons ripped at hide and scales and fangs tore at each other's throats as they began to fight viciously. Minerva, now in flight and carrying Merric in tow, could only help but scowl at the sight.

"Horrific," Merric muttered under his breath. Though they had seen Khozen and Roy fight not too long ago, there was something much more horrendous about watching two of their comrades go at each other with such a primal intent to kill.

Gordin, who was perched behind Caeda on her Pegasus, felt his nerves building and gulped. His hands were clammed up as he shakily kept a grip on his bow. Caeda shook her head and looked out to the castle walls, spotting Volzhin as he waved his hand once more, as if giving Roy more orders.

"Now isn't the time to be dwelling," she said and reared her Pegasus up. "We need to deal with Volzhin!"

Minerva furrowed her brow and narrowed her eyes. "I could not have said it better myself. Off with his head!"

Much to Merric's dismay, the wyvern knight immediately beelined straight towards Volzhin, Hauteclere readied at her side. Caeda followed her, both her and Gordin with their weapons at the ready.

Both duos flew circles just overhead and Volzhin scoffed as he glanced up their way. "Pesky rats," he grunted as he flicked his wrist to have Roy turn his head towards them. Fire built in Roy's throat as if to breathe it at them, but he was quickly cut short by Bantu sinking his teeth into the side of Roy's throat. Another feral roar escaped the enraged dragon as his attention was brought back to Bantu once more.

Volzhin, unimpressed, simply snarled and closed the book. "Fine, no matter. I will take care of these ones myself."

His hand reached into his cloak to exchange the mysterious tome out for Bolganone once more. Minerva dove in, Hauteclere raised and ready to strike the first blow. Fire burst forth from Volzhin's palm as he cast Bolganone, the scorching flame forcing her wyvern to dodge out of the way. Without skipping a beat, a gale of wind shot out from Merric's outstretched hand directly at Volzhin, causing him to step back and cover himself to keep the sharp wind from cutting into his eyes.

"Damn you," he hissed. "I will teach you to stand against Doluna!"

Caeda's javelin raced by him and sliced him right across his raised arm, which made him whip around to face her, immediately and defensively casting another round of Bolganone, which missed in his haste. Being surrounded as he was, he realized quickly that his death was imminent, and let out a labored breath. His teeth gnashed together as he mulled over his options.

"This is absurd," he growled as he threw Bolganone to the side, the book skidding across the brick, forgotten. He yanked out the black tome once more. "You will die here- if not by me, then it will be by your own comrade's talons!"

Heimler let out a gurgling cry as Marth pulled his sword from the man's chest. The prince panted, catching his breath as he stepped back while the old general collapsed backward, his lifeless body staining the ground red with blood. He closed his eyes as he swallowed the lump in his throat—his lungs burned and his muscles ached. However, now was not the time to rest. As soon as their skirmish settled, Julian jogged over to the locks on the dungeon gates, tinkering with the rusted metal contraption until a satisfying click sounded the unlocking of the mechanism.

"Success!" he exclaimed as he yanked the lock from the door. He could barely step back before the prisoners—led by a younger woman and elderly man—rushed out of their confinement.

"You! You must be the army that Princess Nyna brought back with her!" the younger blue-haired woman exclaimed, her expression serious, but hopeful.

Cain trotted forward on his horse. "Yeah, that would be us. And you are?"

The group of prisoners introduced themselves. The woman was named Midia, a paladin that served the princess. The elder was Boah, a bishop. The remaining three were Tomas, Dolph, and Macellan—all three of which were Midia's subordinates. Pleasantries had to wait, however, as the sound of hooves and footsteps approaching the dungeon drew everyone's attention to the entrance as their hands all grabbed for their weapons.

They were not greeted by Dolunian soldiers, however: a familiar green-haired cavalier and blonde sniper appeared in the doorway instead, both wearing quite grievous expressions.

Marth was immediately on edge. "Abel! Jeorge! What is going on?"

"You have to see it for yourself—" began Abel before a huge tremor cut him off. He continued after the shaking quelled, "We've got a problem on our hands."

Cain frowned. "What's the point in being so vague about it…" he started to say. There was a low rumbling and a familiar snarling roar, muffled by the palace walls, that caused everyone in Marth's party to tense from surprise. Marth shot Jeorge a questioning glance, and Jeorge only frowned with a nod. So it was what Marth thought it was…

"A problem indeed…" Marth mumbled, mostly to himself, before he looked back to their newfound allies. "Midia, I hate to request your assistance so soon, but—"

The paladin waved off his concern and clenched a fist near her chest. "There is no need for apology. We will proudly fight by your side, for the princess and for the future of Akaneia!"

His chest swelled with emotion as he nodded. "Right. Then let us go," he commanded before leading the way out of the dungeon.

Upon reaching the main floor, he could not help but lament the tragedy of how many had been slain here—enemy soldiers or not, seeing the castle halls littered with corpses and stained with blood was a solemn welcome. He had wished that his first visit to Pales, and the royal castle, would have been on better terms than this, though unfortunately fate had not seen for it to be that way. The air hung heavy with the scent of death, must and blood as he led the group towards the main hall. It was there that they had come across Jagen's group, who had routed the rest of the enemies in the palace's hall not long before Marth's arrival. Princess Nyna smiled a little upon seeing Marth, relieved to not only see him alive, but also the familiar faces of Midia, Boah, and the others as well.

"Prince Marth," she said as the two groups met in the main hall. She held a beautifully ornate bow in her hands. "Please take this. It's the Parthia, one of the three regalia from my family. I wish I had the other two to give, such as the sword, which would be of more use to you… but some of the soldiers took off with them before we arrived. We were only able to get this one back…"

The prince shook his head and carefully took the bow. "Princess Nyna, there is no need for apologies. Thank you."

Hardin stepped forward, a stern expression on his face. "Prince, we have a problem, here."

Marth nodded and as if on cue there was another roar, albeit much louder to their ears now. The terrible sound echoed throughout the castle, and it sounded as if the dragon was screeching from intense pain. Without hesitation, Marth ran towards the entrance to the castle, disregarding Jagen or Hardin's requests for him to pause. After an exchange of glances, Jagen waved his hand for the rest to follow after him.

Both dragons were tangled, claws and tails flailing and fire billowing from their maws. The one that Marth recognized as Bantu was the worse for wear of the two, though both were covered in gashes, burns, and blood. Roy's scales and limbs were dotted with spine-like crystals that varied from small to large that looked like they were hindering his movement, but he was so enraged that he would break the crystals with little care as he retaliated against Bantu's attacks. Marth's heart was pounding in his chest as he saw Bantu get slammed into the earth and pinned down by a large, crystalline claw. The air charged with heat as embers began to flit from Roy's maw—if he wasn't stopped now, Bantu would be…

An arrow flew and embedded itself loosely into Roy's neck, interrupting his attack, and he let out a low growl as his head whipped back to look towards the source. Hands trembling still on his bow, Gordin was still sitting behind Caeda on her Pegasus with his weapon drawn. Sweat was beading on his brow.

The distraction had been more than enough time for Minerva, and she let out a cry as she pierced through Volzhin with her axe. He let out a harsh curse as his chest was crushed by the weight of Hauteclere and he coughed up blood as his arms went weak. The tome fell from his hands and onto the ground.

"Y… You fools… it makes no difference…" he wheezed, "You're… all dead… even if you kill me… your fates are already sealed…"

Minerva's expression remained unchanged as she pulled the axe from the mage's chest, and his body crumpled to the ground, lifeless as blood seeped from his wounds.

With a low, distraught groan, Roy faltered once more; his claw lifted from Bantu's chest as he backed off of the elder dragon, barely keeping himself standing. Once Bantu was freed from Roy's weight, his dragon form dissipated into flame, leaving naught but his battered humanoid form left lying on the ground. Without hesitation, Maria ran towards Bantu, as did Marth and the others that were at the castle gates.

Maria and newly-recruited Boah wasted no time as they began to mend the manakete's wounds, which were quite grievous. Though Marth wished to thank Bantu for risking his life, Caeda called out from above.

"Marth! Look out!" she cried, which made Marth turn—though his breath caught in his throat when he was met with the dark, powerful gaze of a dragon—his friend—staring him down.

Within those eyes the prince could see nothing but powerful emotion: anguish, confusion, anger, despair, pain. Those emotions communicated so strongly through gaze alone that Marth could practically feel them all as if they were his own, and it was overwhelming—so overwhelming that he did not even notice the embers that had begun to escape from the corners of the dragon's maw once more.

"Prince Marth!" came one of his comrades' voices as he was hit with a weight that sent him crashing to the ground, right as flame scorched the ground where the prince had just been standing. There was loud ringing in his ears as he tried to regain his bearings and look up to see who had hit him out of the way. One of the prisoners, Dolph, stood up and helped bring Marth back up to his feet. "You can't just go dying here like that!"

Another roar escaped Roy's throat as his claws slammed into the earth. Even with Volzhin dead, it seemed Roy was still completely consumed by rage and unable to stop rampaging. More crystals covered his body as he crashed his tail into a nearby building, sending bricks tumbling to the ground.

Another arrow—this time coming from Jeorge, who had picked up the Parthia after it had been knocked from Marth's hand when he was tackled just moments prior—embedded itself into the dragon's shoulder, and then another into his neck. Roy roared as he staggered backwards. It was clear that he was already weak from his fight with Bantu, and he was covered in wounds. Those crystals seemed to keep shattering with his movements, but would regrow larger and thicker than they had before. Roy snarled and bore his fangs as he endured the pain and took a step forward, still not giving in, and his eyes were still locked on the prince.

"Marth, now!"

With grit teeth, Marth shakily gripped the hilt of his blade and steeled himself. This is not the way he expected this war to go at all. Pointing his own blade at his ally, eyes locked as his comrade's emotions swelled and reached out to him as if he was asking to be freed. Those crystalline growths had consumed half of his body by that point, and his fatigue rendered him too weak to break free of them again.

"Roy… my friend… I am sorry," came Marth's whisper as he ran forward and leapt. The weakened hide of Roy's chest served as little resistance against Marth's blade as it sunk in to the hilt. Marth's heart was racing and his ears were singing so loudly from the blood rushing to his head that he could not even hear the weary growl that left his friend's mouth as he weakened. Though the prince's eyes were screwed tightly shut, he knew what he had done.

A warm, gentle gust swayed his hair and he dared to open his eyes. No longer was his blade sunk into the chest of a dragon, but a familiar person. His hands shook as his eyes trailed up from the weapon, up tattered clothing, and to Roy's face. His eyes were glazed over, lidded and nearly devoid of life, and his face was riddled with scratches and small streaks of red. His hair, usually bright red and soft, was matted with dried blood and clinging to his headband and cheeks.

"Agh…" he barely choked out, coughing loosely and spattering red onto both himself and Marth.

Marth could not think straight. There was no way—no, he refused it—there was no way that this could be happening now. He had slain many enemy soldiers in his travels, and though their deaths troubled him, nothing had ever hit him as hard as this. His thoughts were a whirlwind of emotion as he was trying to cling to something—anything—that would allow him to explain this away as some sort of twisted lie.

A quiet, troubled voice tugged him from his thoughts as if a hand reached out to him as he had been drowning.

"Marth."

His muscles tensed for a moment before his gaze rose once more—when had he looked down to his hands again, he wondered—to meet ice blue. It was as if the world stopped as their gazes lingered.

"… Thank… you," Roy managed. "I… I'm sorry…"

The last words barely left his lips as his eyes slid shut. Marth's grip on the hilt of his sword loosened as Roy's knees gave out. Quickly, Marth's arms reached to keep his friend from falling backwards onto the dirt, and Roy's body slumped forward, his head lulling as his body collapsed and leaned against Marth's shoulder.

With quivering fingers, Marth slowly gripped at the torn fabric of Roy's cape as he carefully hugged him tighter. His eyes, conceding defeat to his tears, clenched shut as his jaw tightened. Unable to withhold his emotion any longer, Marth let out a wail wrought of pure despair.

The heavens stood in silence as the prince shared in his comrade's agony.