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White Scales

"Surrender your souls! All shall be torn asunder by my claws and scorched by the flames of divinity!"

Fafnir's voice, warped as if a feral voice had spoken in unison with his own, was carried by violent winds. The whorl was overpowering as his wings pushed downward, lifting him from the earth as his arms spread to his sides. His head tilted back and he stared up towards the still-clouded skies with a mad grin.

Marth grasped onto Roy's tunic to keep himself held still, and Roy did the same with Marth's cape; the unnatural force had nearly swept the two of them off their feet.

"Your fight is futile! Your lives are already claimed; for if you are not shred apart by my talons, you shall be smote by flame—your existence shall be purged!"

Feathered wings curled around Fafnir's body as if to form a cocoon, and Roy could sense the growing bubble of power from within the blanket of feathers. Without thinking, he pulled Marth to his chest and whipped them around so that his back was to Fafnir.

Before Marth could even mouth his question, he was silenced by a bone-chilling roar. His limbs quivered as he pressed himself further into Roy's chest, his fingers pulling at Roy's clothing. That roar shook the world as if an explosion had burst behind Roy's back, and he dug the heels of his boots further into the mud to keep himself from toppling over. Wind gouged the skies and the clouds split like shorn fabric.

Finally, the tempest quelled, though the unmistakable sound of flapping wings filled the silence. Roy's fingers trembled as he hesitated to turn his head, for he knew what sight awaited him. His mind screamed to retreat, and the heavy flapping was drowned out by the screams and roars of events hidden far in his subconscious.

Fear welled up in him swift and suffocating, the screaming in his head so loud he almost failed to hear Marth's voice as he called for him. The gentle tone beckoned him back from the darkness and he found the courage to open his eyes.

Marth was still in his arms, looking up towards him with those eyes: genuine concern was reflecting back at him in those pools of blue, and his fear was washed away.

"… I'm… okay," Roy whispered, his voice hoarse.

Slowly, carefully he loosened his grip on Marth, and the bunched fabric of his partner's cape draped free as he removed his hands. Relinquishing his hold on Roy, Marth looked forward as Roy turned to face their foe.

Before them stood a dragon whose presence demanded the eyes of the world: with scales of white and teal, and wings made of fur and feather, it was perhaps the most incredible of all the dragons they had yet witnessed. Golden horns glinted in the pale sunlight, and the crown of feathers and fins at his head shifted in the now-calm breeze. Red eyes trained down at Marth and Roy, and his finned tail swayed as he considered them.

Roy's soul quivered and balked at the critical gaze of the dragon before them, and he swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat.

"Morzas was naught but a waste of time," Fafnir spoke, his voice resonating in their minds. "To see a Mage Dragon fall so quickly to… you. An insignificant creature… a "Prince." Pathetic."

Marth's jaw set as he held Fafnir's glare.

"… Though I commend you. Both of you. You've proven to be much more entertaining than I ever expected," Fafnir continued, the edges of his maw curling into what one might consider a grin. "To force me to stray so far from my original plans… that I would end up here, standing as a Divine Dragon in front of you as you continue to defy my will."

Fafnir's words sent a chill down Marth's spine as his eyes widened in disbelief. "A… Divine Dragon?"

At that, Fafnir raised his head in laughter. "That's right," he hissed. "One of your beloved Divine Dragons. Those that you hold in so high a regard you consider us as gods!"

Both Marth and Roy were similarly shaken. Roy's grip on his sword faltered slightly as the gravity of Fafnir's words weighed on him.

"Why would… a Divine Dragon side with Medeus?" Marth questioned. "He is evil! Not only does he wish to subjugate humanity but also—"

"Silence," Fafnir spat as his nostrils flared with a snarl. "Your kind have had enough time to rule… you will not make it beyond me! Especially… you."

With all attention turned to Roy, the mercenary stiffened and his knuckles ached as he gripped his sword tightly once again. "… Me?"

"Look at you. I'm surprised you've even made it this long," Fafnir said. "You've survived every single attempt I have made on your life… every one of my carefully orchestrated plans has unraveled at its seams in your wake. It infuriates me. You are as persistent as Eliwood!"

Eliwood. Roy winced as the name rung in his head.

Eliwood? He knew that name—but how?

However, Fafnir's voice tore Roy from his thoughts. "But it is no matter now. I will take your lives myself!"

His head reared back as his maw was set aglow embers. As he threw his head forward, white-hot flame billowed forth and scorched a line across the earth, aimed right towards Marth and Roy. Grabbing Marth's wrist, Roy ran with him to the right to escape the inferno. The temperature rose considerably as the air was warped by the heat of the flame, and the pungent scent of burning earth assaulted their noses.

The light of the sun was blocked out and both of them immediately turned their gazes skyward. A huge shadow barreled towards them from above, and Roy let go of Marth's wrist so each of them could move out of the way. Fafnir's tail collided with the ground between them, throwing dirt and stone into the air. Marth tumbled across the grass, having barely dodged what would have been a fatal blow.

The scaled appendage served as a wall between Marth and Roy. Marth grimaced and he threw his hand to his forehead as his head continued to swim. The black dots in his vision further consumed his sight and it was as though a shadow had been cast over him as he struggled to see anything.

The dread he felt was palpable as he realized that the darkness was not caused by those specks alone—a huge claw loomed over him, waiting to crush him.

Fafnir bore his fangs. "Perish!"

Marth's eyes clenched shut as the claw was brought down on him.

However, a pained roar beckoned his eyes back open and he realized the claw had not fallen. Marth's heart raced as he turned his head as he tried to focus his vision on Fafnir. The huge beast had reared back, and what Marth noticed on the dragon's back caused his fingers to dig into the mud and his heart to leap in fear.

Roy was dangling from Fafnir's right shoulder, his blade buried in all the way to the hilt.

Fafnir let out another agonized screech as his wings flapped, stirring up the winds once more as he lifted from the ground. Roy's grip remained firm on the hilt of his sword as his feet kicked and pressed against the dragon's shoulder to try to find some semblance of footing.

As Fafnir flew higher into the air, he writhed as he tried to force Roy off him. Roy's left hand slipped from his sword and he quickly tried to grasp at anything that might keep him from falling. He found a ridge of one of Fafnir's scales and gripped it tight—though the intense pain that radiated from Roy's palm as the glass-like scale cut into his flesh drew a hiss from him.

Marth, having pulled himself back up to his feet, cried out for Roy. Unfortunately, Roy was so high up into the air that Marth's voice could not reach him. The fact that his partner was stuck and struggling to hold on scared Marth more than it seemed to scare Roy, who was wholly focused on the beast before him.

Blood trickled down Roy's arm from the cut in his left hand as he continued to hold tight to Fafnir's scale, while keeping a desperate grip his blade with the other. With another hiss, Fafnir flung his head to the right as he whipped his body to the side—the stretch of his muscles forced Roy's blade to push out just enough from where it had been embedded, and it slipped loose.

Roy lost his grip on the sword as it came free, and his left hand slipped as well. His eyes widened as he was suddenly left in a freefall.

The wind howled in his ears and his stomach lurched as he plummeted.

"Roy!" Marth yelled as he ran. Perhaps if he could get to Roy fast enough, he could catch him, or cushion his fall—

But Fafnir had flown too far, had been mercifully low when Roy had been flung loose and he had not been fast enough. Roy's body slammed into the earth, the force of the impact causing the ground to fracture. The tip of his sword pierced the earth many paces away as it, too, had fallen.

"Roy! Roy!" Marth yelled as he ran, swiftly leaping over pointed stone and crags, to his partner's side.

The loud ringing in Roy's ears drowned out all sound as his eyes stayed tightly clenched, and he lie there, unmoving. Pain racked his body so much that he could not even think to budge. Marth continued to call for him as he knelt by Roy's side, and the firm yet careful touch of Marth's hands on Roy's arm and stomach made the redhead twitch. Though he still did not open his eyes.

A rumble shook the earth as Fafnir landed with labored breaths. Transforming into a dragon was always a major tax on a manakete's body: the power of a dragon unleashed was difficult to control and the volatility of the magic itself would be enough to drive one mad if it was not sealed back within their dragonstone soon enough. Fafnir knew this well; however, there was something this time that made his transformation much more exhausting than it ever had been.

The magic in this world was foreign compared to the magic of Elibe; what would be considered equilibrium here was wholly unlike what his body had been attuned to. The elements reacted to his magic much more violently and sapped his strength at a pace that was alarming. His gaze fixated on Roy, who was still lying amongst a crater of rubble. A realization dawned on him then: perhaps this was why he suddenly could not control the power of the…

Fafnir's thoughts were cut short as he noticed Roy's eyes open.

Marth's fingers knotted into Roy's tunic as his eyes widened. "R-roy!"

Roy's pupils were thin—like the eyes of a dragon, and his teeth had grown sharper. Scales continued to spread and freckle his skin under his eyes, and Marth could have sworn he saw the faintest glints of teal strands in Roy's hair. His breathing was labored, and the rattling of a growl escaped his throat with every exhale.

"M…arth… let me stand…" Roy whispered as he strained to speak.

Marth tensed in hesitation, though in searching Roy's eyes, he found himself able to relax his grip on Roy's clothes. Roy grunted as he shifted to the side and propped himself up with his elbow, before placing his bloodied left hand into the dirt to help push himself up to his feet. His vision was swimming and his head was reeling from the impact of his fall, and his knees shook as he found his footing.

He brought his right hand to his head and threaded his fingers through his hair as he tried to ignore thunderous throbbing radiating through it. The screeching of the dragon within himself as it tried to wrestle control was overwhelming, though he knew that he was in no position to allow it to break free.

"I see you're still fighting it," Fafnir growled as he masked his fatigue. Roy's eyes opened just barely as his attentions were drawn up towards Fafnir. The dragon rumbled in amusement. "You keep fighting your own nature. If you hate it so much that you would deny yourself, why not just let me end your struggle now?"

Roy's jaw set as he bared his teeth, though he said nothing. Fafnir's words angered him, for he did not hate his dragon half; no, he just did not understand it enough yet. He refused to put his comrades in any more danger than he already had in the past because of it, so he had to deny it. He insisted to himself that he would not allow it to come free until he felt like he could control it.

Fafnir, realizing that his words had yet to pull a strong enough reaction from Roy, decided to try another angle. "… That dragonstone at your breast. It is your mother's, isn't it?"

Roy's eyes widened in surprise. "How… do you know that?"

A glint flashed in Fafnir's eyes. There was a weakness he could use, he thought to himself as he raised his head. "How disappointed she would be in you, seeing you so vehemently refusing to accept the power she left you before she died. You sully her memory with your guilt."

Fafnir's words stung like venom as Roy's breath stilled; his anger spiked more fiercely, though he refused to show it outwardly. That mattered little, however, as Fafnir could feel the energy in the around him shift and twist with Roy's heightened emotions.

In fact, those emotions were so strong that Marth could feel them too. "Do not let his words get to you…" Marth whispered to his partner.

"Quiet, princeling," Fafnir spat in interruption. "You understand nothing of our kind beyond what lies at the end of your blade. This conversation does not include you."

With a growl, Roy took one step forward as he continued to ignore the agonizing pain in his limbs. His fists clenched at his sides and his nails dug into his skin, reopening the injury and causing more drops of blood to drip from the aggravated cut on his left palm.

"No, he understands a lot more than you give him credit for," Roy hissed back.

Fafnir's eyes narrowed as his head cocked to the side haughtily. "Ah, so you think some promise of a future together is enough to be considered an expert on dragonkind. Is that it? I can sense how the two of you are bonded. You've sworn your loyalty and your soul… what a fool you are to give your heart to a human. It looks like poor decision-making runs in your family."

Marth's lips pursed at Fafnir's words. It was clear that their foe knew quite a bit about who Roy was, though he was purposely avoiding saying anything more specific beyond names or sweeping statements.

Roy bared his teeth as he let his frustrations be known—the constant mention of his family that he was unable to even remember only served to stoke the fury in his heart. With a vicious roar, he ran at Fafnir without weapon or thought.

Roy's mind was unable to follow his actions as he leapt into the air, his right hand pulled back in a fist behind him. Everything was a blur of fangs and snarls as his fists met scales, and finally, a claw swiped at him to throw him back. This time, however, Roy had been able to flip himself as he flew towards the ground, and he landed on his feet. His cape fluttered as the breeze chilled and swirled around him.

Small flecks of snow dotted the air, and Marth's breath caught in his throat as a snowflake drifted past his vision. Roy's heart was pounding in his chest as he fought tooth and nail to keep in control, though he was losing the fight within himself fast. The amused, knowing look in Fafnir's eyes as he glared back at Roy told him that his foe could sense him unravelling as well.

"Roy… one more time," Ninian's voice echoed in his mind. "Remember… I am with you."

His chest burned as he breathed in deep. His skin was numb as the temperature around him continued to drop, and even his scale cover provided little insulation from the cold. In fact, it only seemed to conduct it more.

"You cannot hope to defeat me," Fafnir rumbled as he spread his wings, "I am the voice of ruin… all shall vanish with my song, and you shall be the first to disappear!"

Fafnir reared his head as embers built in his throat—a sign of the inferno to come. Ninian's dragonstone at Roy's chest glowed as a surge of strength coursed through his weary muscles, and with one final push, Roy ran straight towards Fafnir.

His left arm ached as his hand changed into one more draconic, and sharpened claws stretched from his fingertips. A ball of flame blasted from Fafnir's maw as Roy leapt into the air one more time.

In Roy's left hand formed a spire of ice. His talons wrapped around it, and he reeled his arm back before throwing it forward into the oncoming inferno.

The collision of fire and ice caused an explosion of magic so violent that all their surroundings were swept away in bright light. Marth was unable to keep standing as he was pushed back by howling gusts, and both Roy and Fafnir were forced from the epicenter of the blast and shot in opposite directions.

Fafnir, having exhausted his power in his dragon form, transformed back as he soared through the air. Both manaketes hit the ground and tumbled across the grass before they each finally came to a halt, lying on their sides.

Marth pushed himself to his feet and ran towards Roy, who was hacking from the impact. The wind had been knocked from his lungs and he shakily pressed his right hand into the mud as he tried to lift his chest off the ground.

"Gods, Roy," Marth said between pants as he quickly knelt. "Breathe! What were you thinking?"

With another rough cough, Roy looked up towards Marth, his face half coated in dirt and blood. "I… wasn't thinking…" he admitted as he gasped.

"Certainly not," Marth practically shouted, "To run at a Divine Dragon unarmed…!"

With a grunt, Roy pressed his still-clawed left hand into the dirt before he pushed himself up, and with the help of Marth's arm wrapped under his own, he was able to stagger back to his feet. His body was as cold as ice, and a shiver ran down Marth's spine as he held Roy up.

Weary cackling drew both of their attentions across the battlefield. Fafnir had managed to pull himself up to his feet, though his back was still curled as he stared at the ground with tired eyes. "You… Are far too persistent…" he said, his voice strained.

Marth frowned. "So are you," he responded. "You can barely stand."

Fafnir's gaze rose to Marth with a glare so full of pure hatred that it silenced him. Then Fafnir's gaze shifted to Roy's.

"I am not done… with you," Fafnir hissed.

After a tense silence, Roy loosened his grip on Marth, and the prince looked to him with confusion. "He's right… we're not done here yet," Roy said, and Marth immediately tensed in alarm.

"Roy, you—" he started, though Roy simply spared Marth a glance of defiance before he turned.

He walked a few paces away to where his sword had sheathed itself in the mud and grasped the hilt with his right hand. "Marth… you trust me… right?"

The question parched Marth's throat. "… Yes… I do."

With a slight nod, Roy pulled his blade from the earth. "Then trust… that I can handle this, like you did Morzas."

Marth remained silent for a few moments before slowly nodding. This was still Roy's fight, after all. Roy's gaze rose from the sullied blade in his hand to Marth. The prince was just as dirtied as he was, with bits of mud and blood stuck in his hair and to his face. His clothes and armor were a mess. Even in such a dire situation, Roy felt his mood lighten just slightly at the sight of Marth so disheveled.

Fafnir scoffed. "The way you two look at each other… it makes me sick," he spat as he shoved his hand into his cloak. "I hate it!"

He yanked a tome from his cloak and opened its pages. Roy turned to face Fafnir and his eyes hardened before he dashed towards the opposing manakete. His right palm felt like a fire was burning him as he clutched his sword, and just before Fafnir could cast his spell, Roy swung his arm skyward. The book flew loose from Fafnir's hands, having been cut clean in two, and at the peak of his strike, Roy let go of the hilt of his blade.

The next move was something Fafnir never anticipated: Roy balled his hand into a fist as he released the sword, and pulled his arm back before thrusting it forward. A powerful punch rammed straight into Fafnir's cheek, sending him right back into the dirt.

"Gah!" Fafnir choked out as he hit the ground. The metallic taste of blood flooded his mouth and he snarled, wasting no time trying to push himself back up.

However, his movement was halted by the unmistakable press of a blade at his throat. It was like a brand pressing against his skin, searing hot, though there were no flames gracing the steel. His gaze rose from the sword to Roy, who was looming over him with eyes just as unreadable as his own.

The two stared at one another in silence. Finally, Fafnir had enough of waiting.

"What are you waiting for?" he questioned with vitriol. "Just end it already. Kill me."

Though at Fafnir's command, Roy found himself hesitating. Even though venom dripped from every word, there was something hidden deep within the manakete's eyes that made Roy falter:

Sorrow. Pure, genuine sorrow.

Roy winced as the memory of something dark towered before him. Reflected at him in that mysterious beast's mismatched eyes was an emotion so depressingly lonely and real that his heart reached out for it.

Before he even realized it, he had lowered his sword from Fafnir's neck. A bead of sweat ran down Fafnir's temple as he swallowed behind clenched teeth.

"What are you doing?" Fafnir questioned. "Won't you finish the job?"

"… No," Roy muttered as he opened his eyes once again to look at Fafnir. "We're finished here."

With a scoff, Fafnir curled his fingers into the ground, pulling bits of grass from the dirt as he did so. "You ignorant fool. Do you really think that showing me mercy here will do anything? Just end it already—kill me! Why won't you just end my—"

Roy only continued to stare critically down into Fafnir's eyes, and the teal-haired manakete inhaled sharply to cut himself off. His eyes closed momentarily as he thought, and then they opened again, clouded with animosity.

"Fine. Spare my life if that is your wish," Fafnir hissed. "Though you will regret this... I will make certain of it."

Tendrils of black reached out from beneath Fafnir as he pushed himself up and away from Roy. Fafnir's knees quaked as he stumbled backwards a few more steps, and Roy scrunched his nose as he frowned deeply at the sight. Their eyes remained locked until Fafnir fully receded into the darkness.

That whole time, Roy had seen something familiar in those red eyes glaring back at him.

Though with their threat now gone, Roy suddenly felt every ache and pain hit him like a ton of bricks, and he dropped his sword as he groaned. The scales on his body began to fade, and his energy was completely sapped from him as he began reverting back to normal.

The field around him swung out of view as he tilted his head and fell backwards into the grass and mud, and he could barely hear Marth calling out his name as his eyes slipped shut.