Prelude to Vengeance

As Marth looked out into the setting sun on the horizon before him, he felt a knot tighten in his stomach. It had been two days since they departed from Pales and they were currently travelling to their next destination: Gra.

His fingers twitched on the hilt of his rapier as his mind wandered back to the day that his father was betrayed and murdered in cold blood. The coward king of Gra, Jiol, had turned his back on king Cornelius and sided with Grust and Doluna to earn their favor. It did not take long for Altea to fall to their oppression after his father was taken out of the equation, and of course, his mother soon followed suit.

With a bitter scowl, Marth cursed Jiol for his actions. It was not normal for the prince to feel such a deep-seated hatred for anyone or anything, but Jiol was one of his sole exceptions.

The clinking of armored boots drew him from his thoughts, and he turned his head to look over his shoulder. A familiar friend was walking towards him, albeit in newer garb.

"We've finished setting up camp for the night," Roy said with a faint smile.

"That's good. This should be a relatively safe place for us to rest for one more night before…" the prince's voice trailed as he glanced out towards the horizon again. Roy watched his comrade thoughtfully before electing to close the gap in space between them.

"Something's on your mind again," the redhead said as he stopped next to Marth as he contemplated the horizon as well. "… Gra is ahead… isn't it?"

In this case, the prince's silence was enough of an answer. Roy's eyes shifted to glance to Marth. The breeze brushed his bangs slightly as Marth closed his eyes, his expression one of anguish. Just ahead lie the source of so many of the prince's woes.

Roy turned to his comrade and reached out a hand to rest on his shoulder. Marth's body tensed faintly at the gesture before he relaxed once more. Neither of them said anything for a time, before Marth let out a small sigh.

"… I have dreamt of this day," Marth finally said, "Many times at night, when I am sleeping, the scene plays out in my head where I finally avenge the death of my father. And yet… now that the day is almost here, I find myself more nervous than I have ever felt in my life."

With a slight nod, Roy responded, "It's understandable. A lot is riding on the events of tomorrow."

Another silence fell between the two and Roy removed his hand from Marth's shoulder. "Just know that I will be at your side… we all will."

The prince swallowed, nervousness drying his throat. "… Yes."

The mercenary sent his friend another sympathetic smile, and Marth looked his way. They held each other's gaze, Marth searching Roy's eyes for something. Roy could see the prince's desperation hidden in his irises.

He would be lying if he said it did not tug at his heart. It was quite unlike Marth to be so outwardly insecure. They remained as they were just a few moments longer, before Marth averted his gaze downward to Roy's chest.

"How does the new armor feel?" Marth asked, changing the topic. "We had to make it in a bit of a hurry, but…"

Roy followed his gaze. Marth had requested for an armorsmith in Pales to forge him new armor, and a seamstress to sew him new clothes after his old clothing had been ruined during the fight against Volzhin. The prince had specifically requested for a breastplate, even—a decision surely borne from the unfortunate end to that day two weeks ago. Some parts of his clothing were reminiscent of his old garb, but his new armor was blue and gold much like Marth's own. Though perhaps the most careful detail was the clasp of his cape—a small golden brooch that held his mother's dragonstone within it, right near his heart.

"It feels great," Roy said with a smile. "It's definitely a little firmer than my old clothes… but that's not a bad thing at all. I like it. Thank you for having these made for me."

All Marth could manage was a slight nod. "I… am glad that they are working for you."

Roy studied Marth as he was still staring down at his breastplate.

"… You know, if anyone saw you staring at me like this, they might get the wrong idea," Roy teased, to which Marth quickly glanced up and shot him a look. Embarrassment was written all over his face and the redhead let out a quiet laugh. "There we go. That's a far better expression on you."

Marth furrowed his brow at first, but then his critical look lifted as he smiled slightly. "You have an interesting way of lightening the mood," he mumbled.

"I learned from the best," Roy complimented as he put a hand to his hip. "Now isn't the time to be fretting… you have tomorrow for that, right?"

Well, Roy was right, Marth supposed. He certainly did have more than enough time tomorrow to be agonizing over Jiol.

The sound of someone clearing their throat pulled their attentions from one another and they both looked to the source. Abel was standing not far away, having come in search of Marth, and he had an interesting smile of sorts on his face.

"Ah, Abel," Marth observed. "What is it?"

Abel bowed slightly as his smile remained. "Prince Marth, I was just coming to check on you both. I had sent Roy this way to tell you were were done setting up camp for the night, and when he didn't return, I came to go find him…"

Roy could feel his ears burn slightly. "Ah, right. I'm sorry. I got a bit caught up in conversation."

The cavalier straightened his posture and sent Roy a sly, knowing expression—something that Roy would have expected from Cain and not Abel. "Not to worry. We do need to prepare for tomorrow's advance, however," he remarked. "Would you both have a moment to do so?"

"Certainly," Marth responded as he turned to face Abel. "I apologize for making you wait. We will be there in a moment."

With a nod, Abel bowed once more before turning on his heel to walk back towards camp. Though Roy could not help but notice the curious glance that the cavalier sent him over his shoulder as he departed. The mercenary brought one arm up to rub the back of his neck with a crystallized hand.

"Geez…" he muttered under his breath, drawing the interest of his comrade.

"Is something wrong?" Marth asked, and Roy only shook his head.

"No, it's nothing," Roy answered. "I'm just imagining things."

Though the prince was curious as to what his comrade meant, he elected to leave it be for now. There were more important things to address at that time and he trusted that Roy would tell him what was on his mind when he was comfortable enough to do so.

"Alright," Marth said. "Then let's meet with the others and talk strategy for tomorrow's battle. Shall we?"

"What?!" hissed Jiol as he threw his arm to the side, slamming the ball of his fist into the wall beside him. The scout that had approached him leapt slightly from shock as he nervously held his arms firmly down at his sides.

"Y-yes sir, they are on their way here now, sire. It's only a matter of time before the League arrives at the Bastion," he stammered, and the coward king curled his upper lip in a snarl. He glared daggers at the scout.

"They are not worthy of the title of "League,"" the king growled, "They are naught but a pack of rebel whelps that should have been killed long ago."

"M… my apologies, sire," the scout whimpered. "Prince Marth leads their army… it is the combined forces of Altea, Aurelis, and Akaneia… so that is what they've been titled…"

At that, Jiol whipped his head to the side as he thought, his expression one of unadulterated disdain. "Altea, Aurelis, and Akaneia… and the Fire Emblem."

After a few tense moments, Jiol turned his attention to the scout, who was shivering in his boots. "Tell me, you did call for Doluna, didn't you? As much as I loathe to admit it, we will require their aid against this washed-up prince and the fools that follow him."

"I-I did send word, sire!" the scout affirmed. "Medon is sending a troop of Pegasus knights to—"

"Pegasus knights?!" Jiol shouted in disbelief. "You are kidding me! We are faced with the entire combined force of the enemy army, and Medon only sends us a troop of ponies? This is unacceptable!"

He stamped his foot as he threw his fist into the wall once again. "I turned against Cornelius for these bastards on Gharnef's word—I even delivered them the Falchion like they demanded. They damn well better send me more than some Pegasus knights! Demand them to send something—the Sable Order, the Dragoons, anything! I refuse to die here!"

With a nervous gulp, the Gra scout saluted the king before scampering out of the room. The coward king cursed out loud, enraged by the lack of support from Doluna.

"That stupid prince. I will make him suffer just like his father did… everything was going to work out fine until he sprang up from the woodwork!" He gnashed his teeth. "I will make him regret ever surviving in the first place!"

That following morning, the Akaneian league had lined up along the riverbank just outside of Gra Bastion. The air was still, as if the land itself waited with bated breath for the war to begin. Prince Marth looked out upon the castle walls in the near distance, just across the fields.

Vengeance was within reach. His fingers tightened around the hilt of his rapier, like they had the evening before.

"… For my father," Marth mumbled under his breath. "… And for all of Altea…"

The soft crunching of hooves on grass signaled Jagen's approach as he led Cain, Abel, Caeda, and Princess Nyna towards the prince. "Sire…" he uttered, and Marth turned to the group.

The fire in the prince's eyes gave the old paladin pause before he spoke again, "We are but a field's length away from Gra Bastion now. Your father would be proud of how far you have come thus far…"

With a slight bite at the inside of his bottom lip, Marth nodded. "I could only hope so. Though… I would not have been able to do this without the support of all of you. We are one field from the capitol of Gra, and one border from home."

Cain smirked slightly. "Yeah... and it's sure been a while," he said, to which Abel nodded in agreement.

Caeda put her hand to her chest. "I am glad that we've finally made it this far. Marth, it won't be long at all before you've returned home… though we will certainly miss your presence in Talys."

"Yes, it will be a little bittersweet, won't it," Marth agreed as he smiled at his childhood friend. "I only hope that your father realizes just how thankful I am for the shelter he gave us as refugees."

Roy was watching from a distance away whilst standing amongst his other comrades. He was silent and watched the prince as he spoke before his gaze wandered to the castle looming just ahead. The sky was blanketed in grey storm clouds and a mist enveloped the grasslands that would soon become the battlefield. His right hand clenched into a tight fist and the fabric of his glove squeaked slightly under the pressure of his fingers. With the thoughts of the coming battle consuming him, he had not even noticed Bantu approach him.

"Roy," came the old manakete's voice. Roy turned just enough and immediately his expression turned to one of guilt as he saw who had called out to him.

"Ah… Bantu," he replied. "Is… there something that you needed?"

His demeanor was stiff as Bantu stood before him. "I thought it important to speak with you before the current of war sweeps us away once again," he explained. "Have your wounds healed?"

The redhead's throat was dry as he swallowed. How could Bantu ask him how his wounds were, when Roy had harmed him so? Deciding to hold back his insecurities, he simply nodded. Bantu seemed pleased.

"That's good," the old manakete responded. "… After the events at Pales, they did confiscate the fire dragonstone that you held and gave it to me. I hope that you are not feeling slighted by their decision…"

Roy quickly shook his head. "No. I fully understand why they took it," he replied. "After what I did, I don't think I could even so much as… look at that stone again."

That guilt that weighed on his heart was almost crushing. He had not seen the state that Bantu was in after their fight, but he remembered enough of their battle through his rage to know that Bantu had been grievously hurt, and he had seen some of the residual carnage during their stay at the Millenium Court.

"There was no way to know that such a spell would befall you. Do not blame yourself," Bantu reassured before his eyes trained on the brooch attached to Roy's cape. "Besides… it seems as though you've got a dragonstone of your own now, is that right?"

It would only make sense that Bantu could sense the true nature of the stone at his chest, Roy thought. With a slight nod, he affirmed Bantu's observation. "Yes, you're right."

His hand reached across his chest to gently touch his fingertips to the dragonstone. The energy from the stone burned faintly against the crystal of his fingers, and his lips pursed. "I suppose this one… is probably the only one I should ever need," he mumbled thoughtfully, and Bantu hummed.

"It seems important to you," he replied, to which Roy smiled.

"Yeah, you could say that," Roy confirmed.

The old manakete pressed no further, though even if he had wanted to, he would not have had the time; Marth cleared his throat just loud enough to draw the attention of the front lines.

"All…" the young prince began as he lowered his fist from his lips. "Before us lies the capitol of Gra. Many of you have been with me for months now. For some of you, it has been years. This battle here earmarks the beginning of the end of this years-long war. How we perform here will impact how seriously Doluna's forces will take us…"

There was a moment of silence as Marth determined his next words. All eyes were on him, and though usually he had no issues speaking publicly, the gravity of this situation had robbed him of his words. He quietly scanned the sea of people and his eyes locked on a familiar face. Roy sent him a small smile of encouragement, and Marth felt a spark of courage ignite in his chest that bade him to keep going.

"… I have no doubts that we will end today victorious," he continued, "With your help, we will take down the kingdom of Gra. To avenge the fallen king of Altea... to recover the Falchion, and to deal a blow to Doluna's power that they will be hard-pressed to turn away from—they will be forced to view us as a force equal to their own. We have worked hard to get here… and we will not falter now! For Altea! For Akaenia!"

The prince's words surged through his ranks as a needed boost to their morale, and one cheer soon turned into countless as the voices of the Akaneian League joined in unison. The sound echoed across the fields and pierced through the dreariness of the landscape, surely shaking any opposing soldier down to their core.

The prince turned to face Gra Bastion. He pointed his rapier towards the enemy capitol, his convictions unwavering.

After so many years of wait, closure was finally within sight.