Author note- the chapter title inspired from the recruitment theme of Echoes... it seemed fitting. :-) Also... thank-you artwork is made with Marth and Roy, but please view it uploaded to Chapter XXIV: Unity on AO3.

Unity

The victory over Gra had been one to celebrate. The people of the Akaneian League, upon learning of Jiol's defeat, had raised their weapons and cheered, their voices seemingly chasing away the storm clouds that had loomed overhead. The sun had shone down on the fields as that chapter in the War of Shadows had come to a close.

The next day had come quickly and word of the Akaneian League's victory had spread to all the surrounding towns by that point. There had been various townspeople—primarily young men and women, though some villagers were older and more experienced—that had come to the castle that next day. They all had been requesting to join the war against Doluna, according to Jagen.

Marth had been quite humbled to see just how many of the common folk of Gra wanted to help. To turn them down certainly was not an option, and with Marth's personal approval, more people were added to their ranks.

One of them—a middle aged villager—had said something that morning that struck something within the prince, and he could not seem to get his mind off it as he stared out at the now-setting sun. He slowly closed his eyes as he recounted the conversation from earlier:

"You're still just a kid, ain't ya? Yet you're standin' there looking as strong as a king. A lot of us in Gra really liked your father, you know! Altea was always real nice to us," the villager said.

"Is that so?" Marth responded, smiling slightly.

"Sure is," the villager responded. "It ticked a lot of us off when King Jiol turned his back on you guys. Why throw us under the banner of Doluna, you know? There ain't no way that they have our best interests at heart!"

Marth could not agree more. Jiol had made a very short-sighted decision when he had turned against both Altea and Akaneia for Doluna.

"Anyway," the man continued, "You're lookin' a lot like your old man did. He's probably real proud of you right now."

Marth's lips pursed as his brow furrowed. Something about what that man said had troubled him greatly, but he did not want to dwell on it overlong. With a sigh, he opened his eyes.

Imagine his surprise when a familiar person was standing not but a few paces away from him, arms crossed. Marth practically choked on his own breath.

"Roy," he said, surprised. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Not very long," Roy said as he quirked his brow. "I called out for you a couple times, but you seemed pretty focused on something. You must not have heard me. Is something bothering you?"

Marth shrunk a little in his embarrassment. To be caught in his own thoughts was one of the things he disliked the most—he always wanted to be as attentive as possible, and yet, Roy always managed to find him when he was at his most vulnerable.

"Ah, no. It's nothing. My apologies," the prince said. "Is there something that you needed?"

Roy's eyes narrowed critically as he thought, "… Yeah. Malledus was wanting to go over a thing or two with you for when we set out again. I think he said it would be in a couple days, but he seemed pretty serious and wanted to talk to you about it right away," he explained.

After a brief pause, he added, "… If you're available, that is."

Marth cocked his head slightly at Roy's choice of words. "I am available, yes."

With a slight nod, Roy to his right, towards the rampart. "He was exiting the casemate the last time I saw him. He said he was on his way to the gatehouse and wanted to talk with you there."

"Alright, I'll go find him then. Thank you, Roy," Marth said with a smile.

Roy said nothing for a moment before finally replying, "Sure thing. If you'll excuse me." He nodded his head before turning on his heel and heading back out towards the fields where they had been set up their camp. Marth watched his comrade with a curious expression.

"I wonder what's bothering him…" he mused.

Deciding not to leave Malledus waiting any longer, Marth made his way down the cobblestone path connecting the castle entrance to the gatehouse. Upon entering the structure, he searched for the old tactician, and eventually found him in one of the many side rooms, along with Jagen, Hardin, and Princess Nyna.

Worry made itself evident in the prince's eyes as he saw his company, all of them wearing expressions that were difficult to decipher. He closed the door behind him as he entered the room.

"Malledus, you called for me?" Marth questioned, to which Malledus nodded.

"I did, yes," he confirmed.

"With rather unfortunate news," Jagen added. The wrinkles around his mouth were made much more pronounced by his scowl.

This only served to make Marth more worried than he already had been. "Well, what is this news, then? Is it…"

"Falchion," Malledus interrupted. "We could not find it anywhere in the castle. The casemate, halls, bedchambers… we have had every room turned upside down, and yet the Falchion has yet to turn up in our searches."

The prince's heart sank at the news. "This is… not good," he responded, "The Falchion was stolen from my father by Jiol. If it's not here, then…"

"I asked some of the villagers that came to us this morning," Hardin stated. "They mentioned something about seeing a "crusty old mage" visiting the capitol with some Dolunian forces just a short week ago."

"A… "crusty old mage," you said?" Nyna recited slowly, to which Hardin nodded in confirmation.

"If that's the case, then there's only one person that comes to mind," Malledus deduced. "Gharnef."

"Gharnef?" Marth questioned, surprised.

"The twisted King of Khadein," Jagen muttered as he crossed his arms. "I should not be surprised that he made a move before we got here."

"I agree," Hardin added. "He is, essentially, sitting at Medeus' right hand. It would only behoove him to steal the blade which could end Doluna's reign."

Princess Nyna brought her hands together as she thought. "Perhaps we should set our course to Khadein…"

Malledus nodded. "That is why I asked to meet," he said as he turned to Marth. "Sire, I know that Altea is just a short distance away from us now... but you must certainly know that we need the Falchion. Would you entertain a change in plans?"

The question made Marth's heart wrench. Just as they were closing in on the liberation of his homeland, they were thrown a significant roadblock. Already he had been feeling off about their victory over Gra, and this only served to amplify his growing discontent. However, Malledus was entirely correct: they absolutely needed the Falchion. With that in mind, Marth pushed his own feelings aside so that he could agree.

"Yes," he began. "I would. If we must change course and march on Khadein first, then we shall. The Falchion is not something that we can simply let remain in the hands of the enemy…"

Malledus seemed relieved to hear the prince's answer. "You are right, sire. Then we shall use the remaining few days here to draw up new plans."

Roy had made his way back to the camp after fetching Marth for Malledus.

Usually he was greeted warmly by his fellow comrades when they crossed paths, but upon his return this time, he was mostly avoided. Perhaps there had been something particularly heavy about his gait this time.

No, there really was no wondering about it—he had definitely appeared quite sour, and his steps were about as weighted as a Clydesdale's.

Upon finding a familiar group of tents, he quickly found his own and, without so much as even saying hello to his friends, immediately slipped inside.

The few of his comrades that were outside—Julian, Cain, Merric, and Abel, respectively—all looked to each other curiously. Abel only shrugged as he went back to stoking the flames of the fire pit he had started.

His partner from the day before, Cain, was the only one willing to break the ice. The redheaded cavalier had no qualms about strutting into the tent he was going to be sharing with Roy. Upon seeing Roy practically sulking—or was it seething?—on his cot, Cain put his hand on his hip.

"So, what's got your mane all fluffed?" he asked, getting right to the point.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Roy muttered as he absentmindedly fingered at the hilt of the blade on his hip.

"You're acting like you just got shot down by the princess herself," Cain observed with a shrug. "It's a hell of a lot different from your normal demeanor."

"Shot down?" Roy glanced to Cain. "I… what?"

Cain exhaled out of his nose, suppressing a chortle. "Geez. You are all out of sorts compared to how fired up you were yesterday. Do you need to talk?"

Roy averted his gaze, opting to stare at a stray strand of thread that had been dangling from one of the tent walls. "… No," he lied.

There was an awkward silence as Cain said nothing but continued to stare. Roy could feel the cavalier's eyes burning on him as if he was needling him with unsaid questions. Eventually the one-way staring contest finally grated enough on the mercenary's nerves that he let out a defeated sigh.

"Fine," he conceded. "I guess I do need to talk. But I don't really know what exactly it is that I need to talk about."

"Hey, everyone has to mindlessly rant every once in a while," Cain reassured. "Why not come sit out here with us by the fire and tell us what's on your mind?"

Roy turned his attention to Cain once again. "… Us? As in, like, four of you?"

Cain shot him a grin. "Yeah, if you're comfortable. It might help to have a few sets of ears to listen to your woes, you know?"

It made sense Roy supposed. Though even so, he still was not entirely sure what it was that had him so frustrated. It was wholly unlike him.

With a grumble, he decided to hoist himself back up to his feet. "Alright. But if you guys get tired of listening, then just stop me," Roy said. "I don't want to take up your whole evening with… whatever this is."

Cain, acting as if he had won the most difficult battle in his life thus far, clenched his fist in triumph. He exited the tent and Roy hesitated before slumping his shoulders just slightly, wondering why he had agreed to do this in the first place. Unfortunately, it was too late for him to change his mind, so he simply straightened his posture once again before heading out of the tent as well.

He was immediately met with the scent of the firepit being carried on the breeze. Though it was something he smelled almost daily at this point, it still never failed to relax him, even when he was at his most volatile. The dirt crunched under his feet as he walked over to where the other four were sitting, and he took his seat on the grass between Cain and Julian. His eyes were trained on the fire before them.

At first, no one spoke a word, and even though the fire was warm, Roy was still uncomfortable enough that it felt like the dead of winter. Eventually, Abel cleared his throat to break the silence.

"So… Roy," he politely began. "Cain said you had something on your mind that was bothering you. I hope you know that you are more than free to speak about it with us."

Roy's gaze remained on the fire as he answered, "Yeah. He told me. I'm just not sure what exactly it is that has me so worked up."

The green-haired cavalier smiled sympathetically. "If you hold things in for a long time, eventually they just compound into one indiscernible problem. Perhaps it would help if you told us what triggered your… sour mood?"

With a slight glance towards Abel, Roy considered the idea. "… Alright. I was doing fine until I went to find Marth earlier. He was lost in his thoughts…" he trailed off for a moment as he frowned, "… I could tell something was bothering him. Though when I asked, he brushed it off."

"So, you were upset because he didn't disclose what ailed him?" Abel questioned further, to which Roy nodded.

"Yes," he confirmed. "I've told him before that if he ever needed to talk to someone, that I would be more than willing to listen. There was a lot about him that I didn't know that he ended up sharing with me the other day in Pales…"

As he recalled their conversation at the Millennium Court, he felt his chest tighten. It had been an intimate conversation that the others had no business knowing all the specifics of, but he figured that everyone in his current company at least knew about the history of Marth's family.

"… Like with his parents, and how they were murdered. I never knew about that," Roy clarified. "Finding out that his father had been betrayed and murdered just… it made me angry. And that his mother had lost her life as well. Prince Marth has had to deal with a lot of trauma that… well, I just wish I could help him more with."

His voice had grown quiet, and the other four glanced around at one another with curious expressions. Now it had been Merric's opportunity to question him.

"… So," he started as he put his knuckles to his chin in thought. "That kind of reminds me of myself and Elice. Except I'm constantly beset with worry, considering she's currently in the hands of the enemy…"

Roy exhaled out of his nose. "Marth is here with us and I still find myself inundated. If he was in Elice's situation, I think I would have to have Jagen physically keep me from running off on my own. I don't understand how you can do it."

"That's just a normal emotion to have as a knight though, isn't it?" Merric asked curiously.

"… I guess, yeah," Roy responded.

Cain, however, found Roy's tone interesting. The cavalier squinted his eyes curiously. "You guess? I know how I feel as one of Marth's knights. I would want to run off and find him, sure, but…" his gaze rose up towards the amber sky as he continued, "Getting in danger is part of the job as prince, too. And I'm pretty sure he would not be very happy with any of us if we just ran after him alone. Even I would wait to come up with a group plan."

Roy pulled his knees to his chest and rested his chin on the leather of his boots as his expression darkened. He stared into the fire and muttered with a completely flat tone, "I don't really care if he didn't like it, I would do it anyway."

Roy's attitude was a far cry different from his usual, and Cain found himself growing a sly smirk. "That so? Why's that?"

Thankfully Roy continued to stare forward, because if he had seen Cain's smirk, the cavalier was certain it would not have ended well.

"Because I just…" Roy sighed, irritated. "The thought of that happening just… makes me angry… emotional? Like when we were fighting Khozin, and Marth almost got killed. I jumped in the way and we tumbled across the dirt. When I opened my eyes, he was beneath me, and looked like he was in pain. It just… maybe it was the dragonstone that got me heated… but the only thing I could think of was…"

With a shaky inhale, he went quiet before he shook his head. "You know what, nevermind. I don't think I can deal with this right now…"

He quickly moved his arms to press his palms into the earth before he pushed himself to his feet. Without another word, he turned away from the others and trudged off between the tents and out of view.

The four of them stared in the direction that their friend just retreated to.

"… Someone's not very good at handling his feelings…" Abel mused. "I had been suspicious, but…"

"Right! I thought you were kidding, Cain, but I'll be damned if ya ain't onto something," Julian said with an amused smirk.

Cain inhaled with a smug expression on his face and laced his fingers behind his head, reveling in being proven right.

"So… if that's the case… then what are we going to do about Marth?" Merric asked awkwardly.

"What do you mean, "what are we going to do about Marth"?" came a familiar voice that made the other four pause.

Marth and Jagen had approached the fire, and Marth had a curious expression on his face. "Did I miss something by chance?"

"Uh…" Cain smiled awkwardly as he rubbed the back of his head. "No, no. Uh, well…"

Merric pursed his lips. "… No, actually, you did. I think Roy was a little upset about something. He just left a moment ago."

The prince blinked a few times in surprise. "Is that so…" he mused.

"Yeah, we tried to talk to him about it, but could not get him to say much. The two of you are fairly close… perhaps he would be more willing to talk to you?" Abel added. "That is… if you can find him, anyway. He left in a hurry."

His words obviously worried Marth and the prince looked towards Jagen, who simply nodded his head.

"Go ahead, sire. I will update Cain and Abel of our change in plans," he said.

With a grateful smile, Marth thanked the paladin. Merric motioned in the direction that Roy had run off to and Marth quickly followed in the mercenary's footsteps. After a few moments, the elderly paladin turned his gaze to the four that were gathered around the fire with an expression one could consider equivalent to that of an exasperated father.

Much to Marth's chagrin, he had been unable to find his elusive friend anywhere around the camp. He had asked around and had gotten nowhere, until Lena mentioned something about potentially having seen the mercenary heading towards the castle. With genuine thanks, he departed from the camp and made his way back up the cobblestone path towards Gra Bastion.

A frustrated sigh escaped his lips as he ran his fingers through his hair. Of all the places he could have run off to, he chose the castle, which would certainly prove to be the most exhausting place to search. There were many halls and rooms that one could hide away in, and Marth worried that Roy may have found somewhere too elusive.

"So long as he is not enduring another nightmare by himself, I suppose…" Marth muttered, remembering the few times prior where his friend had stowed away somewhere post-battle to suffer through his panic attacks alone.

Though the prince figured if Roy had made it this far away from camp, then perhaps that was not the reason why he ran. Marth found his pace increasing as he went from room to room, still unable to find his comrade. Eventually, after having seen the prince pace by on more than one occasion, one of the guards spoke up.

"Sire, is there something that you're looking for?" he asked.

Marth realized that he simply could have asked the guards long ago if they had seen who he was searching for. With a slow shake of the head, he cursed his lack of foresight. "Yes, actually. I am looking for someone. Have you seen a red-headed swordsman with blue armor recently? He is just a tad older than me, and just the slightest bit taller."

"Ah, yes sir. I've seen someone matching that description. He asked me where the solar was, and I gave him the directions there," he explained. "Do you need help finding him?"

With a smile, Marth shook his head. "No. I've been to the solar once already, I should be able to find it. Thank you for your help."

"It's my pleasure, sire," the guard replied with a bow.

Marth excused himself and walked past the guard and up the main stairs. The solar was generally where the royal family's bedchambers were in any castle. With that established it would go without saying that they were usually quite beautiful, with intricate architecture and a lot of natural light from the balcony—which that was no different here at Gra Bastion.

As the prince made his way down the hallway towards the solar, he felt himself growing cold with nervousness. His footsteps, though quiet, still seemed to echo down the length of the hall, especially now that he was the only one traversing it. Surely Roy would hear him coming, right?

With a slow intake of breath, the prince stopped just outside the wooden doors of the solar. He stared at the woodgrain for a few moments before putting his hands against the doors to push them open.

Directly across from the now-open doors, on the other end of the beautifully grand solar, the person he had been searching for all evening stood with their back facing him.

Though Marth's first instinct was to say something, he refrained from doing so. Roy was standing out on the balcony with his right arm pulled up in front of his chest, as if he was in thought. After a few moments, the prince took a few steps into the solar and quietly closed the wooden doors behind him. The tile floors made little sound beneath his feet as he walked across the room and closed the distance between himself and his comrade.

Upon reaching Roy, Marth quietly stood beside him and looked out at the sky, now mostly dark. The sun was almost completely set, and there was a hint of starlight as they began to flicker through the darkness of the night sky. Neither of them said anything for a time, and though there was clearly something weighing in the air between them, it felt different. Eventually the prince hazarded a glance towards Roy, who still had his arm pulled up to his chest, and his knuckle resting against his lower lip.

In the dim light, the crystals on his skin glowed ever so faintly. In a way, it was almost alluring, especially the way that glow had begun to play off the details of his face.

"… Is there something on my face?" Roy asked suddenly, snapping Marth out of his thoughts.

It was then that he realized he had been staring, and Roy was staring directly back at him.

Gods, he really needed to stop doing that.

"Ah, uh, no," Marth mumbled nervously. "I apologize."

A small hum was all he got in response as Roy turned his attention elsewhere again.

Once again, another silence fell between them—the only sounds were the buzzing of cicadas and the distant, muffled sounds of the army's camp in the grasslands below. The prince's heart was beating hard in his chest.

"… Marth," Roy finally said, though he continued to stare out into the distance. "Something's been… bothering me."

"Bothering you?" Marth repeated as he turned his full attention towards his comrade.

"Yeah. Earlier, some of the guys back at the camp tried to talk to me about it. I was feeling and acting very much… not like myself," Roy admitted. "Which they mentioned… and they were completely right. They tried to dig to the bottom of it with me, but…" The mercenary bit the inside of his lip as he scrunched his nose. "… Urgh. I am not good at this," he grumbled.

"Good at what?" Marth asked. Carefully, he reached out to put a hand on Roy's arm, but as soon as his fingers touched the fabric of Roy's sleeve, his comrade pulled away. Marth brought his own hand back and furrowed his brow as he stared at Roy, who was staring very firmly ahead with a strange expression, and even in the darkness of night, Marth could see his cheeks were red.

"… Roy, what is it?" the prince repeated, albeit quieter.

Roy gulped hard—his throat was completely dried. There was no denying it by this point, he thought.

"… We… I…" he started awkwardly. "… The conversation… we had the other day, back in Pales. I wasn't just kidding you know…"

Marth blinked once at Roy's words and opened his mouth to request further clarification, but Roy motioned for him to stop before he had the chance.

He clarified, "When I said you had a way with words. The whole thing about understanding each other more than anyone else has?"

Ah, that. Marth simply nodded in response.

"… I… have been thinking about that," Roy muttered. "A lot. It's been on my mind ever since we had that conversation. Earlier today when I asked if something was bothering you, you said there wasn't. But I knew you were lying."

Caught red-handed, Marth had no rebuttal. "… You're right, I was lying," he admitted quietly. "I thought that killing Jiol would be the solution to my grief… and yet I see now that vengeance will only heal so much. I was just remembering that I still have a long way to go before this war is truly done."

Roy finally looked to Marth, his blue eyes clearly expressing his relief at finally being told what had been bothering the prince. "Finally."

Marth smiled a little bit sadly. "I am sorry. I should have just told you earlier. I am just processing a lot of emotions right now... as it seems you are too."

Having the conversation focus back to Roy made the redhead quickly withdraw his gaze, and he stared back out at the sky again. "… Yeah. I am. Actually, I think I've figured it out."

"Is that so?" Marth asked with a smile. "That is good to hear. What have you discovered?"

His question brought about a long silence as Roy squinted, seemingly trying to determine his next words. The buzzing of the cicadas quietened as he thought.

"… Do you really want to know?" he asked in a hushed tone before turning his gaze to Marth.

There was something unreadable about his expression, and his eyes darkened with emotion. Marth held his breath for a moment as he reciprocated Roy's gaze.

"… Yes," he finally answered.

The mercenary pursed his lips into a line as he turned to face Marth completely, and he lowered his arm back down to his side.

"When the guys back at camp tried to dig to the bottom of my troubles earlier, they ended up asking some questions that made me realize… something," he said. "I had to walk away from them and figure it out by myself. That's why I came up here."

Marth craned his neck to the side slightly. "Right… and I take it you figured it out."

"I did," Roy affirmed with a nod, "And… it's… not what I was expecting, but it's the only answer that makes sense with how I… act… around you. Dragonstone aside."

The low tone of Roy's voice, coupled with his unreadable gaze, caused Marth's heart to stutter.

"… I may not remember my past… but I do think I know what this… feeling means," Roy whispered as he motioned to his breastplate. His eyes closed for a moment before he reopened them, and he carefully reached out to take Marth's hand with his own. The feeling of crystalline fingers on Marth's skin made his hair stand on end.

"… I understand," was all Marth could say. Even without Roy saying it outright, he had gotten his point across, and it was as if every fiber of Marth's being was screaming in reciprocation.

Roy must have felt it too, because his body visibly relaxed as he held Marth's hand in his own. A small smile tugged at his lips.

"… I think… it goes without saying… I will be here by your side for as long as you will have me here," Roy said quietly.

Marth's cheeks burned as he smiled up at Roy. "Then you will be stuck with me, even after you regain your memories," he responded, to which Roy laughed.

"I guess you're right," Roy said with a smile. "I'm certain there are far worse fates to have befall me. Though you should be more worried than I…"

Marth laughed gently. "Perhaps I should be… but I cannot bring myself to mind."