Reflections
It had been a week since the liberation of Akaneia. Princess Nyna had gracefully given Marth and his army free reign of the Millennium Court and the surrounding city so they could relax and recover their strength from the last battle, and prince Marth had taken the opportunity to explore the city as well as the castle now that Roy had woken up and was in fairer condition.
The people of Akaneia, with the help of Marth's own army, had done an incredible job tidying the place even after only a week of calm. Where just a short while ago the skies were filled with smoke and bodies littered the ground, much of the city was cleaned up, and some of the buildings that had been damaged by warfare were already in the process of being patched and repaired. It was clear that the people here held their country and princess in high regard—something that the young prince found himself aspiring to be more like with his own land and the people of Altea.
A wistful sigh escaped his lips as he slowed his gait to an eventual stop just outside of the courtyard of the castle. Ever since this war began and the oppression of Doluna gripped the continent, Marth had little time to himself; while he was generally more than happy to be there for everyone and certainly appreciated their willingness to trust in him as their leader, he found himself wishing that someone would listen to his own woes. The blades of grass swaying in the breeze beside the cobblestone path became increasingly more interesting as he dove further into his own thoughts.
His mind wandered to the events of a week ago. It was difficult now for him to let go during this moment of reprieve because of how much his previous actions plagued him. Though Roy had thanked Marth for stopping him—how silly, thought the prince as he closed his eyes—he could not help but continue to think in circles about how things may have gone differently if he had tried something else.
Of course, both he and Roy knew that there had been no other option, but that did not stop the prince from lamenting, nonetheless. After another few moments of silence, Marth decided to continue on his way through the courtyard.
As he reached the gardens of the castle, the stillness was broken by sounds of grunting and clanging somewhere in the near distance. Marth turned his head to listen and recognized the sound as someone fighting nearby. His shoulders tensed and without hesitation, he broke off in a sprint to find the source of the echoing sounds.
It did not take him long to discover what the sounds were coming from; as he rounded a corner, he saw a familiar redhead swinging his sword about, practicing against a thick bundle of straw. Jagen was with him at the time, his wrinkled arms crossed over his chest as he observed the younger swordsman as he struck at the dried hay. Jagen's lance was leaning against the brick wall beside him.
"Jagen? Roy?" Marth called out, drawing their attention to him as he walked their way. Jagen straightened and bowed as Marth approached.
"Sire, good afternoon," he responded. Roy rested the tip of his blade on the ground as he nodded towards Marth in greeting.
"What are you two doing?" the prince asked as he stopped not but a few paces away.
Roy craned his neck to the side as he narrowed his eyes curiously at Marth. "Practicing," he responded as he rested his free hand against his hip. "I was feeling restless…"
Before Marth could chastise his friend for being careless, Jagen raised his hand slightly in request for Marth to pause. "I have been watching him in the meantime, sire. We were sparring a moment ago, but I requested a break, so he has turned his attention to the hay bundles…" his voice trailed as his gaze shifted to the aforementioned hay, now looking significantly worse for wear. "Even with your injuries, Roy, you have quite the energy. I am not sure I can keep up."
The young lion shifted as he turned to face the elderly paladin, a slight smile on his face. "If you say so, I guess," he partially deflected. "I just needed to do something other than lay around in bed…"
Jagen closed his eyes and hummed in understanding.
Marth was quite surprised at the kindness Jagen was showing towards Roy. The paladin glanced to Roy, and then to his lord. "I do, however, need to take my leave… I had planned to go with Abel to help some of the Akaneian people on the outskirts of the city who still have yet to be assisted or given many supplies."
Both younger men nodded in understanding.
"Thank you for taking the time to spar with me, Jagen," Roy said, and Jagen bowed his head in a nod.
"It has been my pleasure. I am glad you are recovering well," he responded before turning to Marth and bowing. "Please excuse me."
The elder paladin picked his lance up from its place against the wall and took his leave, the dirt crunching beneath his boots as he rounded the same corner that Marth just came from. There was a short silence as the remaining two stared in that direction before Marth turned his head to look at Roy, which drew the redhead's attention to him. The mercenary smiled, and Marth furrowed his brow with a concerned expression.
"Are you sure you should be up and about so soon?" Marth asked, and Roy was unsure if the concern or the aggravation was more prominent in the tone of his friend's voice.
With a slight shrug, Roy lifted his sword over his shoulder, the grey fabric of his cotton tunic bunching at the base of his elbow. The sunlight glinted off his arm's crystalline surface.
"I feel well enough," he responded. "Wrys brought me these clothes to wear for now and said I was healed enough that I could get up and look around."
Marth crossed his arms. "Get up and look around," he emphasized. "Not spar…"
By this point, Roy had picked up on a few of Marth's cues and quirks. The prince was very emotionally involved in the wellbeing of his comrades, and he wore those concerns on his sleeve. The way his mouth had turned downward into the smallest hint of a scowl only convinced Roy to smile more.
"I promise, I am fine," he reassured, to which Marth's unamused expression faltered ever so slightly. "Would you like to spar?"
The scowl came back with a vengeance. Roy chuckled at his comrade's reaction to his question and continued, "Okay, fine. I'm sorry I asked."
Marth uncrossed his arms and looked to Roy's exposed right arm. "How are you feeling today?" he asked, though his question was primarily angled towards hearing an update about the mysterious ailment that had afflicted his friend. Roy lowered his sword again and followed Marth's gaze to his crystallized arm.
"I'm doing okay," Roy responded as he rotated his forearm, watching the sun play off its bizarre surface. "Whatever this is has not really changed since I woke up a few days ago, so things could certainly be worse… and it doesn't particularly hurt. My muscles just feel a little stiff."
Well, Roy was right; things certainly could have been worse, and Marth agreed with that. Roy's eyes glanced up towards his friend's, and he squinted slightly upon noticing the faintest hint of sadness in the blue of Marth's eyes.
"… How are you?"
Marth blinked once and looked up from Roy's arm to his face and was slightly startled when their eyes locked.
"How… am I?" he repeated dumbly, and Roy only quirked his brow with a nod. It was such a simple question, but Marth was not sure of how to answer. "I… am fine," he responded, his voice wholly unconvincing.
"Are you sure about that?" Roy asked as he straightened, his tone taking a more serious turn. "You seem lost in your thoughts. Is something on your mind?"
There was a long pause as Marth considered his comrade's question. Was there something on his mind? Well, certainly there was: his thoughts were always consumed by one thing or another, but there was never truly any time nor need to talk about it. As prince and leader of his army, his own people's needs came far before his own.
Roy, realizing that Marth was not going to say anything, frowned slightly and sheathed his sword. "Marth," he called, which caught the prince's attention. "Let's go for a walk."
A few more blinks. Roy had been assertive before, but primarily only on the battlefield when times fell dire; any other time he was quite quiet and preferred to listen to others, like Marth.
A small sigh escaped the redhead's lips as he walked towards his friend and put a hand on his shoulder.
"Marth," he repeated, shaking the younger prince from his thoughts once again. "You are losing your concentration a lot this afternoon… I can tell something is on your mind. Care to take a walk and discuss it with me?"
Finally, Marth used his words. "A… ah," he stammered. "I… yes, that sounds like a great idea."
After removing his hand from Marth's shoulder, Roy motioned for Marth to join him as he began to walk towards the cobblestone path of the courtyard. The prince took his place beside him as they walked together. The breeze was relaxing as it brushed through their hair, and for a short while, they simply walked in comfortable silence. The assumption had been made that Marth would speak when he was ready to.
After a few quiet minutes of walking, the two of them had ended up following the garden paths and had meandered to a more private area near a small manicured pond. It was there that Marth stopped walking, and Roy followed suit as he turned his head.
The water in the pond was crystal clear with a few lily pads dotting its mirror-like surface. With knitted brows, Marth allowed his eyes to slip shut as he let out a heavy sigh.
There it was, Roy thought to himself—he knew that something had been weighing on his friend's mind, and he was about to learn just what it was that was bothering him.
"… Our conversation the other day," Marth began, his eyes opening just enough for him to continue staring out at the water. "When you told me about your mother, I was… quite surprised. And learning that she had passed away made me think back to my own parents, and how they are also no longer with me."
The air grew solemn as the prince recounted the events of his past.
"My father… king Cornelius, years ago went to war with Doluna and Grust to fight against their oppression," he started. "The War of Shadows, it is called. He wielded the Falchion—a legendary sword passed down by Anri, my ancestor. Like Anri, my father wished to slay Medeus… the dragon emperor of the Dolunian empire. However…"
His voice trailed off as he looked up towards the sky. "… However, he was betrayed by the king of Gra, Jiol, and murdered."
Roy frowned as Marth continued, "Though that was not the end of it. My sister and mother were taken hostage when our kingdom was attacked by Doluna… and then my mother was killed in cold blood, by one of Medeus' right-hand generals, in our own castle."
"Marth…" Roy mumbled.
"…My mother made me escape to spare me the same fate. Though… I would be lying to you if I said that sometimes, I wish I had not been spared at all," the prince said as he turned his head to look towards Roy slightly, a sad smile gracing his expression. His words came as a shock to Roy at first, but after the initial surprise ebbed away, Roy found himself understanding how Marth felt. This moment also brought to realization just how little Roy actually knew of Marth this whole time: here he was, shouldering this incredible loss more or less alone, and leading an army all the while. There were many things that the redhead felt he wanted say, but it was hard for him to find all the right words—at least at this particular moment.
"I am certainly grateful that you were spared," Roy mumbled as he turned to fully face his comrade, and Marth returned the gesture. "Though I am sure I'm not the only one that has said something similar to you."
Marth's sad smile turned into one more genuine. "No, not exactly. Though…" he paused as he considered his next words carefully. "… It means very much to me that you would say such a thing."
Roy felt a little sheepish as he let out a slight chuff and glanced away, the corners of his mouth ticked upwards into a slight smile as well. "I suppose so. You seem to put a lot of weight to what I think…"
The prince hummed thoughtfully, noting his comrade's reaction. "Perhaps."
A gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the trees near the water's edge, and a few stray leaves flitted across the wind before finding their resting place on the water's surface. Marth's head turned to look towards the leaves floating on the water.
"It is rare that I get to share personal thoughts with others. I… being the prince, and the leader of this army, my needs come last," he said. "Which I am fine with bearing that burden, for the record. But… sometimes, I cannot help but find myself wanting for someone who is willing to lend me their ear as well."
At this, Roy took a half-step forward as he clenched his left hand into a loose fist. "Marth," he started, "You… if you ever need someone to lend you an ear… I know I am not Jagen or Malledus… or Caeda, Abel, or Cain… but…"
His voice grew quiet as his confidence wavered just enough, and he took that half-step back as he relaxed his fist. "… I know I am not any of them. But you can certainly count on me to be there for you if you need someone to listen. Or… well, anything else, really…"
By that point, Marth was staring directly at Roy, slightly surprised by how firmly the redhead had started his response, and how quickly he faltered. It was as if he had been embarrassed by his own forwardness.
There was something very endearing about it.
With a slight chuckle, Marth nodded. "Thank you. Perhaps I will take you up on your offer sometime again."
Roy could feel his ears burning slightly from… something. He assumed embarrassment—but he really had no need to be so embarrassed, did he?
"Ah…" Marth realized something, and Roy glanced to the prince out of the corners of his eyes. "Speaking of the past… have you remembered anything more, Roy?"
Now it was Roy's turn to frown—he had not remembered anything truly concrete since he had been awake. He had replayed the events of that labyrinth his soul travelled over and over again in his mind, but it was to no avail. Marth took his comrade's silence and expression as his answer, and he seemed disappointed.
"Nothing then…" he said. "I see. I'm sorry, perhaps I should not have asked."
Roy shook his head. "Seems we're both asking poor questions today," he joked. "But… really, I have not remembered much. When I was unconscious, before I saw my mother, the only other thing that happened was I just… remembered a lot of violent things. Fire, war, muddled voices and faces… but everything was so obscured that it hasn't done me much good."
"I can only imagine what you have been through to make you dream of such terrible things," Marth wondered, and Roy nervously chuckled.
"Yeah… in a way, I kind of don't want to remember," he admitted. "Though I suppose there's always the chance that it was not really as bad as my mind wants me to think it was…"
The two fell silent as the breeze brushed by them again. The fingers of Roy's right hand twitched when met by the feeling of the air, and he turned his head to the left, his eyes musing on the water as the leaves drifted along its surface. The prince took the opportunity to gaze at him thoughtfully.
The crystalline cover on his skin had been running all the way up the side of his neck and ended near the back of his ear. Though he wanted to know more about the source of such a bizarre condition, ruminating over it at this point seemed useless. He only hoped that they would eventually figure it out together.
The prince's eyes widened slightly at his own thoughts as he realized something, but after a few more moments, he let the thought pass and his expression relaxed once more.
"… It's interesting," Roy suddenly said, drawing Marth from his thoughts.
"Interesting?" Marth repeated.
Roy continued to look out at the water as he nodded. "We…" he paused, and his brow furrowed as he thought. "… We are very… similar, yet different."
His words caught Marth by surprise, and the prince grew curious. "What do you mean?"
His comrade closed his eyes and inhaled slowly before letting the breath go. "… You lost everything. Your family, your homeland. And yet you still push forward, even during those times where you wished it would all just end…" Roy tilted his head to look to Marth again, their eyes meeting. His expression was serious as he pursed his lips. "… I… look into your eyes, and I see a reflection of myself. I don't know why, but I truly feel as though we…"
"… We understand one another more than anyone else in our lives has," Marth finished, and Roy felt his mouth run dry as he nodded. Marth smiled sympathetically at his comrade. "You are right. I feel the same. Maybe that is why we have felt comfortable enough to open up to one another as we have."
The prince closed his eyes as he pondered the situation. "… Yes," he continued before opening his eyes once more. "I feel as though I have known you much longer than I truly have. Those kinds of relationships come but once, maybe twice in a lifetime."
Roy could only manage a quiet hum as he averted his gaze to watch the water again. "You have a way with words," was all he could manage, and Marth could not help but chuckle at Roy's response.
The two of them certainly had become close comrades since that fateful day in the ports of Galder, and that relationship had grown to be invaluable to them both.