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Thank you for reading this far...!

Awakening

That blue gaze sent Marth's thoughts in a whirl.

Roy's awakening had evoked such a strong emotion from him that the prince had attempted to immediately rise to his feet and call for one of their bishops. However, as he rose, Roy's arm slipped from under Marth's palm and a crystalline hand gently grasped at the prince's, halting him before a word was even allowed to slip from his mouth. Marth looked down to their hands, and then to Roy, who had been looking right back into his eyes, his expression weary, but alert.

A gentle and weak grip on Marth's hand coaxed the prince to sit once more, and so he did, keeping his eyes trained on his comrade's all the while. Nothing was said for a few moments as Roy stared into Marth's eyes, and the latter could tell that Roy was thinking hard about something—he could see the gears turning even behind his tired gaze.

"… You're real… right?" came the redhead's hushed voice.

The question gave Marth pause and his hand twitched in Roy's grip before carefully tightening around it.

"Indeed," Marth said quietly, though his heart was racing. He could hear the pounding in his ears as his nerves buzzed about in his chest.

A long moment of silence ensued as Roy considered Marth's words and continued to search the prince's eyes as if he were trying to determine if it was a lie. Eventually, a small, slow breath escaped Roy's lips as he visibly relaxed, and the grip on Marth's hand loosened slightly.

"… You're right," he finally concluded as his eyes slipped shut again.

Swallowing a lump in his throat, Marth sidled closer to the side of the bed as he looked at his friend.

"How are you feeling?" came his gentle question, causing the redhead to open his eyes once more.

"… A little… worse for wear," Roy admitted. "… But I can't really… feel a whole lot at all right now…"

His breath hitched in his throat and he coughed. Marth quickly stood, carefully setting his friend's hand back down on the bed as he did so.

"Let me get you some water," he said as he reached to the bedside table to pick up the small cup of water that had been sitting there since that morning. Roy only grunted as the cup was carefully placed to his lips and tilted just enough to let some of the cool liquid quench his thirst and calm his throat.

With another small cough, he turned his head just enough to signal that he was finished, and Marth pulled away before setting the cup back down on the wooden nightstand. He retook his seat at Roy's bedside and rested his hands in his lap, waiting to say anything until Roy was ready to speak again.

There was another long silence before Roy opened his eyes again to stare up at the ceiling.

"How long have I… been unconscious?" he asked quietly, his voice significantly less strained now after having some water.

Marth pursed his lips. "It has been four days," he answered.

With a small hum of acknowledgement, the sheets began to shift as Roy started to move his arms. Marth, realizing that his friend was going to try to sit up, quickly leaned over to stop him with a gentle hand on the uninjured side of his chest.

"Please," Roy insisted. "I need to sit up… my back is sore."

The prince hesitated before nodding apprehensively. He moved his hands to Roy's back and shoulder to help lift him off of the bed and prop him up against the headboard. With a shuddering exhale, Roy shifted his weight to sit a little more comfortably and he opened his eyes again to look at Marth, the two of them still close.

"Thanks," he mumbled, and with a nervous smile, Marth removed his hands and sat back down.

Roy's gaze shifted downward to himself, examining his exposed torso. His expression was critical as he glanced over himself, looking over all of the cuts, bruises, and burns that littered his skin. He paused as he studied the puncture wound on the right side of his chest, and Marth could feel his hands clam up as he followed Roy's gaze to the wound. Guilt gripped him like a vice as the prince furrowed his brow and averted his gaze in shame.

Noticing Marth's reaction, Roy tilted his head to look at his friend. "Marth," he called, and the prince apprehensively turned his attention to Roy once more. The knowing expression on Roy's face made Marth want to retreat his gaze, but he refused to do so as they stared at each other.

"… Don't feel guilty," Roy finally said.

Once again, Marth found himself turning away, but the careful grip of a crystal hand on his wrist bid him not to.

"Thank you for stopping me."

Marth pursed his lips at Roy's words. "I… almost killed you," he began. "How could you thank me for such a thing?"

Slowly, Roy let go of Marth's arm and rested his hand on the bed. "It shows me that you have unwavering resolve," Roy responded. "Even when faced with a difficult choice… in the end, you did what was right."

With a shake of his head, Marth protested, "No. There could have been another way—"

"Marth," Roy interjected firmly, "If you hadn't stabbed me… I would have killed you."

His words made Marth's blood run cold. That lump had formed in his throat again and he swallowed it in his nerves. Certainly, he knew that Roy was right—if he had not been stopped there, Marth and everyone else likely would have perished. Though logically he knew this, every fiber of his being refused to accept it as true.

Roy could sense Marth's internal turmoil and smiled a little sympathetically. "You did the right thing," he repeated. "And that shows me that you are true to your cause… certainly a person worth serving and worth dying for."

Marth whipped his head up to look directly at Roy, his expression bewildered. "Do not speak of dying," he said. "I will not have it… not after…"

His attention drifted to that wound once more and his words were stolen from him. At this point, the wound was healing well, but would certainly scar over, leaving a permanent reminder of what transpired between them just four days ago. His heart wretched at the thought, but he willed himself to speak again.

"… Not after what I have done," he continued. "Though it was the right choice to make, I will still live with the consequences of my actions. This guilt will… hopefully fade with time, but right now is too soon to have it slip away."

With an understanding nod, Roy let out a huff of breath. "… That's fair," he concluded. "… But… tell me… what is this?"

He raised his crystallized arm just enough to draw attention to it. Marth shook his head.

"I don't know," the prince responded. "Neither do the chirurgeons. We were hoping you would have some idea…"

Roy considered the condition of his arm and chest with a thoughtful hum. He twisted his arm and moved his fingers slightly, as if testing the flexibility of his limb, and bent his arm at the elbow to pull his hand closer to himself. After another few moments of thought, he simply shook his head.

"I don't know," he finally said. "But… it feels strange… it's cold. But at the same time, it feels like it's burning."

His description drew concern from Marth. "Does it hurt?" he asked.

Roy shook his head again. "No. It just… is. If that makes any sense… I feel it, but I'm not agonizing."

How puzzling, Roy thought. From what little he remembered of his rampage, these crystals were present then, too. He could distinctly remember the inability to move as he trudged forward towards Marth, right before his comrade dealt the final blow, and how his body felt just as it does now.

Unfortunately, it seemed like yet another mystery for him to tack on to the ever-growing list of mysteries that inundated him. With a small sigh, he lowered his hand to his lap.

"I guess there's no use wondering about it now, if no one knows anything," he conceded.

The tone of his voice made Marth frown sadly. He sounded almost defeated, which was quite unlike him. Thinking on what to say to shift the subject, Marth got an idea.

"Say… Roy," he started, catching his friend's attention. "While you were unconscious… I noticed your expression…"

The redhead quirked his brow slightly at Marth's words, and the prince could feel his face heat up slightly at the realization that he had been staring for such a long time while Roy had been unconscious. How strange it must have sounded to Roy for Marth to begin to mention such a thing, but the prince pressed onward regardless, his curiosity be damned.

"… Your expression changed a few times…" he spoke. "It was as if you were having a dream… but you appeared very emotional. Actually…"

He shifted in his seat and elected to find literally anything else in the room more interesting than the person in front of him as he avoided eye contact. "There was one moment where it seemed as though you were going to cry. It was not long before you woke. Your brow knitted and twitched so often that it was like you were reacting to something."

At that, Roy stiffened with surprise. So, that labyrinth really was something that he dreamt, but at the same time…

It had felt very real.

"Hm," was all he could muster at first. He squinted as he focused on the blankets covering his lower half, and examined the wrinkles of the fabric draping over his legs. "… You're right."

Marth turned to his friend upon hearing his confirmation. Roy looked up to Marth again, his eyes as clear as ever as he seemed to be recalling the events of his dream.

"I met someone from my past," Roy said. Marth's eyes widened in surprise, and Roy paused before clarifying. "It was my mother. Her name is Ninian."

"Ninian…" Marth repeated. It was quite a foreign sounding name—he had never heard anything like it.

With an affirmative nod, Roy continued, "She… said she had died. But she was watching over me, even now, from beyond. And…"

He paused, the memory of her words causing his heart to throb ever so slightly. His crystallized hand slowly pulled at the blanket covering him as he gripped it, recalling the encounter.

"She told me that I was not alone," he finished. "That she would be with me… as would all of you."

A wave of calm washed over Roy as his eyes slid shut. He thought he had been done, but more came back to him as he reached out into that light to remember her.

"She said she was proud of me. And that I reminded her of my father," he added. "And… that even though I have suffered… I am strong."

The prince took note of his comrade's hands and shoulders quivering as he recounted his late mother's words. He tenderly placed his own hand on Roy's, a gesture that quelled the shaking, even if just for a moment.

Roy's expression grew solemn as he stared down at Marth's hand on his own. "I did not… get to speak to her much. She disappeared not long after that… and… then I must have woken up."

Marth could not say anything at first; actually, even though he wanted nothing more to commiserate with Roy, the words refused to form in his head. Though even with the lack of verbal response, his heart ached for his friend—an emotion that was so strong that Roy could certainly feel it as he continued to stare at their overlapping hands, and then to his own arm again. The glinting of the crystal covering his skin was almost bewitchingly cold—though he knew nothing of its source or where it came from, and perhaps he should have been scared…

His gaze traced along his forearm and slowly back down to his comrade's hand on his own. That twinge of something in his chest needled at him again, and that coldness was overtaken by an overwhelming feeling of warmth. He allowed himself to relax for just a moment—his tense muscles appreciating the reprieve—and in that second, he remembered something more.

"Ah," he uttered, causing the prince to raise his head. "My satchel… where is it?"

Marth blinked at the sudden question. "Your satchel? Oh… well…" he turned his head to look towards the other end of the room, where a few pieces of Roy's clothing lay, along with his sword. "Most of your clothing was ruined from the fight… but I believe your satchel should be over there still. Let me get it for you."

He rose from his seat and, with graceful footsteps, proceeded to the other end of the room as Roy watched. Marth was not wearing any of his usual armor—only his tunic, pants, and boots—and Roy realized that this was actually the first time since the port town library that the two of them have been in such casual company.

All things considered, it was nice to have a moment of quiet like this, where Marth could feel comfortable enough to be without all of that gear. After what seemed like weeks of endless fighting, Roy figured the young prince was appreciating these days of downtime. Well, minus the part about him lingering by Roy's bedside for days on end—a thought that made the young lion smirk slightly in amusement.

"What is it that has you smirking?" Marth questioned as he returned to Roy, satchel in hand.

Roy only shook his head. "It's nothing," he said. Marth seemed unconvinced, but decided against prying. He smiled and held out the satchel—now certainly worse for wear after the last battle—to Roy for him to take.

With careful hands, Roy took the satchel and flipped open the mouth to search through it. Marth tilted his head curiously as he watched his friend rummage through the bag. It did not take the redhead long to remove his hand from the bag, holding that chipped stone in his crystalline fingers.

"Ah, that's the stone from when we first found you," Marth recognized. "Wait…"

That soft glow that Roy had seen in his dream was still present. The prince could see how his friend's expression grew surprised, as if he had not been expecting the stone to be glowing as it was.

"… It's still glowing," Roy mumbled. "So… she really was real."

Marth's brow furrowed at Roy's words as curiosity set in. "What do you mean?"

Roy looked from the stone to Marth. "This is… my mother's dragonstone. Apparently… my uncle gave it to me at some point before you found me. This is how she's been keeping watch over me…"

To say Marth was surprised would have been an understatement. "So, then your mother was a dragon?" he asked, to which Roy nodded. What an interesting discovery, Marth thought. He scanned over the stone in his friend's fingers quizzically, before smiling.

"Well… thank you, lady Ninian, for watching over him," Marth said, directing his words at the stone. Roy quickly looked up to Marth, finding his words somewhat astonishing. Marth only smiled back at Roy and put his hand to his own chest. "It seems only fair for her to receive my thanks as if she were standing here with us."

It felt as if Roy's heart was in his throat as he listened to Marth's words.

Marth continued, "Besides… I would like to think that perhaps she might be why you are still here now…" his voice grew hushed as he picked his words carefully, "So I am certainly grateful to her for… keeping one of my closest comrades alive, to fight another day by my side."

A silence fell between the two as Roy processed Marth's reasonings. Slowly, he lowered his gaze to the glowing dragonstone in his hand.

"… I suppose you are right," he agreed quietly. "Full glad am I that my time was not cut short."

Marth said nothing, but he could not help but agree entirely.

Yes, thank the gods that he had not died, the prince thought to himself.

A gentle knock at the door pulled their attentions towards the entrance to the room.

"Please come in," Marth said.

The door creaked as it opened slightly, and Wrys stepped in. His expression grew shocked when he saw Roy sitting up in his bed.

"Roy, you're awake," he stammered as he shut the door behind him and came towards the two. Roy nodded a little in response, and Wrys smiled with relief. "It's good to see you lucid. I was just stopping by to begin your next round of healing…"

Marth noticed the way Wrys' words trailed, and he took a slight step back from the bed. "I suppose then that I shall take my leave for now," he said with a smile, and Roy turned to look towards Marth with a confused expression. To that, Marth only chuckled. "I'm certain you would not wish for me to see you in naught but your smallclothes, right?"

At that, Roy's cheeks flushed almost as red as his hair as he got the picture. "A…ah, right," he stuttered.

With another chuckle, Marth began to walk towards the door. "Roy, I will see you later this evening… please, try to get some rest. Don't push yourself too soon… okay?"

"… Yeah, I'll try not to," he said. "But… I can't make any promises."

Marth glanced back towards him with a knowing glint in his eyes. "I expected no different," he said, the corners of his mouth still tugged upwards into the slightest of smiles.

With that, the prince excused himself from the room, the door closing behind him with a soft click.