"Fubuki no Kaen"

(MarthRoy)

Authors: Xan and Vallen
Rating: R
Warnings: One thing… Or, lot's of things: This is a story with yaoi/shounen ai/slash, whatever you want to call it. If that sort of stuff isn't your thing, then don't read it. But, we hope that you do…
Disclaimer: The characters Marth and Roy, plus "Altea", do not belong to us. We just use them for our pleasure.
Feedback: Yes. (That means we would love to hear from you and what you think!)
Notes: Vallen: Yay! Another chapter! *sweatdrop* Sorry for making you wait…

          Xan: Hey, here we are with another chapter...  At long last... *nervous cough* Sorry it took so long, but hopefully it was worth it!  This is a good one for all you Trave fans out there!  Enjoy! 

Thanks (SO MUCH) to: LilFilipinoGurl (A cookie? Me and Xan love cookies! And yes, we try to make chapters long…), BlueMage15, Partner of Cyan (Too short? Oh well, I guess we can't please everybody… *frown* I don't know of a Marth basher, but he/she better stay away from Xan's Marth!), Shadow Princess (heheh… so you're liking the description almost as much as we like writing it!), V-Amy (Ahem… They can't escape because… They can't! Marth realizes that in this chapter. They're imprisoned in a fortress-mansion here!), Sneasel (Love your reviews! You're one of the three people that actually like Trave! That's me, you, and Xan…), LiL PriNCeSs Me (hehe… We're so glad you're hooked on our little ficcie! Oh, and there's TWO of us, not just one writer behind this!), RcA (Oh, complaining b/c of the lack of action? We're sorry! We promise things will speed up, but we like torturing them too much and leaving them helpless to our own devices…), Evil Anime Chick (We like shackles and chains too! *ponders* Oh, don't worry they'll both get tortured, only Roy is a bit stronger in the pride area…), Li Kayun (*laughs nervously* Relationship? What relationship? Oh, they'll become friends eventually, they just have to go through some trauma first! Then the fun starts…), Asudem (We love to make people happy! Just as your reviews make us happy!), Person-y (You shall have more, don't worry!), turquoisefox (I guess we know that its good, but if we did, we'd be really self-centered, wouldn't we? That's why we like having people tell us what we're doing wrong or right and what the readers like about it! Oh, and about your fic, I read it!), and Mirrormere (Dead pleased? *grin* We liiiike that… Oh, and you made Xan happy by saying that you liked Marth better… Just to tell you… ^_~).

They were marched down several long halls before stopping at one door in particular. One of the guards inserted a key into the lock and opened it. Marth and Roy were shoved roughly inside.

In the dim lighting of the room, the two young men could make out a fairly large bed and several other pieces of furniture. Another guard went around and lit candles, providing light and revealing the medium-sized room further.

A particularly well-built guard took charge over Marth and Roy themselves. He practically threw the lighter Roy and shoved Marth roughly onto the bed. Chains welded to the headboard were once again hooked to the loops on their collars.

The men left without giving any explanation and locked the door securely behind them.

Roy gave the ex-Prince a sour look and moved to the far side of the bed, as far as the chain would allow him. "This is all your fault…" he growled, hugging a large pillow fiercely and not bothering to crawl under the blankets.

"My fault?" Marth repeated softly, running his hands through his dark blue hair and producing a hairpin. He inserted it into the lock that chained him to the bed and after a few minutes of fiddling with it, there was a faint click and the chain fell from his collar. Marth turned and gave Roy a quizzical look, raising one brow.

"I fail to see how something that is totally and completely out of both of our control is now suddenly my fault." He stood up and stretched, keeping one eye on Roy. "Would you like me to help you out too?"

The ex-general eyed Marth warily, trying to figure out why his former Prince would want to help him. Instead of being stubborn and refusing help, Roy moved closer to Marth. He turned his head and tilted his neck to give Marth better access.

"Yes," he gritted his teeth. "Please…"

Marth took the pin and put it in the lock. After a few moments of skillful lock picking, it was done and Roy was free as well. Marth flopped onto one of the chairs and tucked the pin back into his hair.

"You're welcome," he said, not expecting actual thanks from the general.

As expected, he didn't get one. Roy shook the chain off and kicked it aside, hearing it clank on the fine hardwood floors. He yawned sleepily and crawled under the soft, inviting blankets.

The auburn-haired teen looked as small as a child against the large bed as he curled up, tucking his knees up to his bare chest. He raised a hand and removed his royal-blue headband, the hairs falling freely now to frame his face softly.

"As for my accusation earlier… It was said without any real reason behind it. I was just looking for someone to blame this matter on. Forget and forgive this childish logic," Roy said quietly, closing his eyes.

Marth blinked with mild surprise. If he had anything to say in response to that surprising remark, it was too late now as Roy was already fast asleep. But he probably wouldn't have answered anyways.

The exiled Prince leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. He was tired, there was no doubt about that, but there was little to no chance that he would sleep tonight. Marth found a comfortable position in the chair and let the ice slide over him for the long night.


The door was opened the next morning. The slave-owner was "kind" enough to allow them a generous amount of rest. It was a young girl at the door, with a beautiful body, but with a pretty face that looked like it had been though and seen hell itself. The sandy-haired girl wore a short skirt and a small, old blouse. Around her pale neck was a fancy collar- it seemed that Trave had an odd fascination with the hated things.

"Excuse me, but Master wishes to dine with the both of you this morn," she announced softly, not quite sure if the two of them were awake. Her faded blue eyes wandered around the room, to Marth sitting in the chair and to Roy, curled up on the bed.

To her surprise, the man in the chair's eyes were open and looking her over calmly.

"What is it that the bastard asked you to do?" He asked of the girl. His voice was not unkindly and he tried not to scare her further.

"He told me to bring the both of you to the dining hall as soon as you are ready… Master also said that there are other clothes in the closet, if you wish to change." She said carefully, biting her lip in her nervousness. She played with the hem of her skirt, awaiting his answer. Master had told her about these two new ones: they were untrained, unbroken and she was to be careful around them.
Marth looked her over critically out of the corner of his eye. She looked nervous. Marth snorted.

"Clothes, the bastard says. I wonder what sort of clothes he has in mind." Marth walked over to the bed and prodded Roy. "Up, general of the army of sleep."

"There are several sets of clothes, pieces of jewelry and other items in there." The girl interjected, her voice as quiet as before.

Across the room, Roy rolled over, away from Marth's offending poke. He opened his eyes slowly and sat up abruptly, figuring out where he was.

"What did you call me?" He mumbled grouchily, getting out of the large bed on the opposite side as Marth.

"I called you the General of Sleep," Marth replied, walking over to a large wooden dresser. He opened the drawers to see what was inside of them.
Within were several sets of clothes that would not have been out of place in court- jewel colored shirts, leggings, hose and tunics in expensive silks and satins. Another drawer held necklaces, bracelets, rings and earrings, all wrought in fine gold and silver and set with precious stones. Marth's practiced eye could tell that every one of them was priceless.

With a face devoid of emotion, he took a black silk tunic and a white shirt to wear under and pulled them on over the pants he was already wearing. The girl could see that his throat was red from where he had been picking at the collar all night long. She turned to Roy.

"Are you going to get dressed as well?"

The auburn-haired youth glared at her briefly before moving to the dresser. He selected a cobalt blue tunic, a startling contrast to the red and gold pants he wore.

"I'd rather you not call me anything but my own name," Roy said forcefully to Marth, referring to the title the ex-prince had called him earlier.

Marth nodded. "I understand. Forgive my transgression."

The girl, Gwen by name, waited quietly while Roy pulled on his tunic.

"If you'll follow me," she turned and led them down the long corridor. Marth and Roy followed behind her silently. Three pairs of feet padded quietly on the hardwood floors.

'He's not worried about us escaping,' Marth realized. 'Because he knows that we can't.'

Gwen stopped in front of a set of large heavy doors. She opened them slowly and gestured for the two of them to enter. Surprisingly, she made no move to follow.

"He's waiting for you in there."

With apprehension in their hearts, the two young men stepped into the large dining hall. A long table, so large that it could easily seat thirty people was set in the center. It was covered by a white cloth and set with fine dishes and utensils. Sitting at the head of the table was none other than Trave himself.

"Do sit down," he said with a grin. "I'll wager the both of you are positively starving." He gestured to the two chairs on either side of him with a sweeping hand. Marth and Roy sat down in them.

The slave-owner looked past them and towards the door, where the girl was still waiting for further instructions.

"Come," Trave ordered.

Gwen went to his side and sat lightly in his lap. He stroked her soft hair and turned to the ex-Prince and General.

"I trust you had a good nights sleep. Would you two like to eat? You are entitled to anything you want- I can't have my favorites starving, now can I?" Trave questioned.

Roy did not look at him, but instead fixed his gaze on the embroidered mantle on the table.

"I want nothing," he said flatly. Inside, however, he wanted to eat to his heart's content and replenish the energy that he had used up through the torturous journey.

Marth studied Gwen sitting in Trave's lap. What a picture they made, the beautiful tyrant and the frightened slave-girl in his lecherous clutches.

"The only nourishment I require is bread and water." He said tonelessly. He had none of Roy's fiery pride- he had lost that the moment that Gaimen had proclaimed him in exile. He didn't care what happened, he knew that the important thing was just to survive.

Trave laughed. "How undemanding we are! But bring out whatever his Majesty desires."

Another slave brought out a plate of bread and a goblet of water and set them before Marth. He began to eat them methodically. As he did, he glanced over at Roy.

'Your pride will kill you someday.' The blue-haired man thought.

The young soldier felt Marth's eyes upon him and looked up, giving the ex-Prince a look that seemed to answer: 'I'll believe it when I see it… I refuse to eat this bastard's food.'

Marth swallowed and continued eating. If the General was fool enough to starve himself and weaken his body, it was entirely his own business.

Trave watched the two of them and smiled. These new slaves were much more amusing than any of the others. He stood up, pushing Gwen abruptly off of his lap.

"If you are done," he said. "Come to my chambers." The guards stepped up and fastened the chains once more to their collars. Trave turned and began walking down the halls with Gwen at his heels like an obedient dog. Marth and Roy followed behind, escorted by a small legion of burly guards.

Once the door was closed behind them and the chains from the wall were attached to their collars, the scenario was beginning to look as it had the night before. Gwen and the guards left the room, leaving just the three of them. Roy stood tall and firm and Marth nearly shaking from fear.

"You two are such fun to watch…" Trave chuckled, once again standing a maddening mere few inches out of their reach. He turned to Roy,

"I haven't quite figured out how I'm going to break you yet, but I'm sure that it shall be great fun…" The slave-owner smiled and they could tell that the expression was backed by pure evil.

Roy's face changed totally at the snide remark. His entire body tensed and his fists clenched tightly. The general pressed foreword until he felt the pull of the cold metal around his neck.

"You won't!" He shouted angrily. "You never will! You think just because you paid money for me that I'm going to obey your every command?! Well, think again because I will defy you ev-"

A loud, resounding smack interrupted the red-haired teen's outburst as Trave backhanded him abruptly across his face.

"Silence!" Trave snapped coldly, livid with anger. He towered above the youth, who was now on the floor, a hand pressed to his stinging cheek. Roy was silent, but his downcast eyes burned with defiance.

Trave took a deep breath to calm himself and rubbed his hand absently. He turned to Marth, the sadistic smile returning to his face.

"You… Perhaps you, with a bit of training, will be better…" The slave-owner lifted his other hand to stroke Marth's blue hair softly. He leaned in closer and curled a hand around the ex-Prince's neck, drastically shortening the distance between their two faces. Quickly, he pressed his lips to Marth's.

Marth's cobalt-blue eyes widened with horrified shock and he struggled with all his might to free himself from Trave's poisonous touch. He broke the kiss and stepped several paces back, wiping the vile taste of Trave's lips from his own. He glared icy death at his owner's smirking face, not noticing that he was shaking violently.

"Hm… So cold," Trave remarked, his smirk deepening as he noticed Marth's trembling reaction. "Like kissing a beautiful marble sculpture. I believe that you will be much easier to break than your small friend over there. But it all works out so very nicely, doesn't it? I shall have somebody to amuse me until he is ready."

Upon hearing Trave's words, the blue-haired man closed his eyes and retreated to the deepest corners of his own mind- into a state of frozen near-unconsciousness. Nothing could reach him when he was so far inside of himself. He wanted to forget… Wanted to forget where he was… All the memories that were floating up from the recesses of his mind… Marth fell softly to the floor and sat huddled against the wall with his knees hugged to his chest and his head resting on them, as far away from Trave as he could possibly get. He was so far gone at this point that he could be killed and not even realize it.

Satisfied that Marth had been completely subdued for the time being, Trave turned back to Roy.

"So what do you think of that, oh my fiery one? I shall use you and drain you until you no longer amuse me, then fill you up and use you again. You shall be mine forever."

Roy shook visibly and lifted the hand that covered the blossoming bruise on his face. He turned his eyes to the slave-owner, his fierce gaze never once wavering a bit.

"I'd say that you wouldn't be the first to try… And fail."

TBC…

Vallen: *winces* erk… Um, I didn't really mean to cut it off there- okay, okay, maybe I did… But you guys can live, right? I'm sorry for the wait, but I was too lazy to type this one, so Xan did it! *claps* So, say thank you to Xan for finally pulling the notebook out and getting it done! Anyways, you'll have a lot of angst *grin* next time…  

Xan: Well, that's all for that chapter.  Hopefully, the next one will be out MUCH quicker.  Hope ya liked it!!