"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: Xan: Here it is! The next chapter! We managed to get this one out a helluva lot quicker too. A note on Marth's parents' name: As far as I know, Marth's parents are never named, so I made them up. If you know their real names and feel the need to correct me, tell me and I'll remember for future reference. Thanx!

Vallen: Hmm… Nothing really much to say, except you get a lot of Marth-and-Roy-alone-time in this part… Deep thoughts!

Thanks to: LilFilipinoGurl(*chows down on the cookies and keeps them away from Xan* Hehe… That was supposed to be disgusting! Trave is not a likable character, but we love him anyways!), tikimoof( naw, you suck at reviews! Anything is better than nothing! Plus, don't worry, you're just addicted to torture… It's VERY common. Both Xan and I are past all help and hope… There is no cure!), V-Amy( More spirals! Pretty… *gets dizzy and stops* Yes, she is! I'm so glad you noticed poor little Gwen…), Areatha, Defender of Opinions( We DO feel honored! Thank you! Yes, yes, feel sorry for them! That's what we want… I think. Heh.), turquoisefox( … lazy butt(S)… But hey, its summer- we're allowed… Sometimes!), Mirrormere(Rat bastard? Ee-hee-hee… Funny! I'll have to tell him you said that… (Trave:*growl*…) But anyways, we like writing him… Glad you're reading!), Asudem( *happy tears* *pokes Xan* Did you hear that? We made someone feel better! I'm so happy! *pats back*), Sneasel( Sadly, I didn't indulge in my wicked fantasies… We fast-forwarded in time… Because if I had actually written the torture, I probably would have to change to rating… O.o… We have a banner now… Go see! I'll put the link up further down… Oh, and we'd love to have our fic mentioned on a site! What's the URL?), and Li Kayun( *glares at ff.net* gr… But anyways, yes, you got the character development and there's more soon, but the plot doesn't REALLY pick up again till next chapter… And I'm not allowed to say more than that…)   

Also, since the mentioning of "xan and vallen banners" inspired me (Thanks, Sneasel!!), I made a little pic… Go see it here: http://groups.msn.com/AnimeFreaksRUs/vallenssecondgallery.msnw?action=ShowPhoto&PhotoID=486



Ten days later…

Roy stared up at the ceiling blankly. He didn't bother nor did he have the strength to move from the spread-eagled position that his body had been forced to endure for more than a week. Perhaps it was because his limbs were chained to each corner of the large bed, or maybe it was because he looked like he had suffered, the marks of cruelty plainly visible on his skin.

It had been ten days. Ten entire days of torture and pain served by none other than the sadist, the man he now knew as Master.

A soft creak told him that Trave had gotten off the bed, but not before he placed a rough kiss on Roy's unresponsive lips.

"Sorry to be so hard on you, but it was necessary," Trave said, not a shred of regret in his voice whatsoever.

Shortly after the slave-owner had left, the door was once again pushed open and the ex-Prince Marth was shoved inside. Roy's eyes flickered and sweat beaded across his forehead, dripping down his face to mingle with dry, crusty blood and stinging as it entered the small cuts there. Marth could not see him like this! But fortunately for Roy, the ex-prince didn't look like he was in a position to notice much of anything. What little clothing he still wore hung in rags off his thin and battered body and his dirty, unkempt blue hair fell unchecked into his face. Like Roy, dark bruises and cuts littered his raw body, tokens of Trave's sadistic methods of breaking him. Unlike the red-haired teen, however, most of his wounds were self-inflicted.

The icy Prince had been just as much a challenge for Trave to break as Roy had been, but in a completely different way. While Roy's spirit had been beaten out of him, Marth's had destroyed itself.

The ex-monarch was shoved into a sitting position next to the bed to which Roy was chained. The guards didn't bother to restrain him in any other way aside from the ever-present shackles and collar. They knew he was too weak and too beaten to try anything.

Once the guards had gone, the two young men were left alone in utter silence. They stayed like that for a long time before Marth stirred. Wordlessly, he stood up and unchained Roy. The mechanism was simple, but it required two hands to release. He sat back down, with his knees hugged to his chest and his face buried in his arms. Try as he might, Trave hadn't been able to completely shatter Marth's icy soul… Yet. It was intact at the moment, but it was uncertain how much longer it would be able to hold up under the conditions.

The auburn-haired youth inhaled sharply as his limbs were finally released from their long tension. His torn and stretched muscles screamed in pain as he rolled himself over bonelessly to face his former Prince.

"Hey," he called hoarsely, trying not to remember what had caused his voice to weaken to nothing more than a rough whisper. "W-what did you do that for?"

Marth lifted his head and turned it slowly to look at him.

"Because I wanted to," his voice was raspy as well. "Because nobody should be forced to be like that."

"Oh. Well, thank you…" Roy said uncomfortably, unable to move any more. He laid there, staring at Marth with a mixed expression on his face.

"How did you become a General?" Marth asked completely out of the blue. He turned his icy face towards Roy, his face questioning.

The auburn-haired teen looked incredulous for a moment. What had come over Marth? Then he forced his tense muscles to relax.

"Why would you want to know about me?" He paused and shook his head. "Aw, what the hell… I'll tell you," He pushed himself up, wincing in pain.

"It started when I was little, a little while after I lost my parents. I was watching Brock train his men and I became interested. So I snuck into the armory and I was disgusted at myself once I discovered that I couldn't even lift a full-sized sword. So the next day I asked him to train me like one of his soldiers… I think he laughed a bit and explained to me what I was getting into, but I was determined.

"The next few years were the same; learning, fighting, and training until Brock decided that I was of age and skill to be made a soldier under him. That was when I was nine… I believe you know all about the rest from there. Defeating your uncle and claiming my former rank, which had never done before by a low-born kid," he said spitefully. "They didn't think I could do it… And now," Roy fell back onto the bed. "I'm reduced to this."

Marth looked at him and tugged unconsciously at his ornate collar. "When I once again recover my place as King of Altea, I shall return you to your proper and true rank."

The ex-General looked at him with surprise. His tired and weary eyes blinked at Marth.

"You would do something that great in my favor even though I have spoken nothing but harsh words to you? Even though you do not know when you'll see the light of day again?"

Nodding, Marth shrugged,

"It is through no fault of our own that we find ourselves lowered to this. And I don't believe you to be as uncaring as you'd prefer others to believe."

"You're just saying that because you haven't seen me in battle. I bet I could beat you in no time, just like your uncle." Roy spat, glaring at Marth, but not quite with the intensity and fire as before.

Marth shrugged again and leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes. "Perhaps. But keep in mind that I'm not exactly a novice with a blade."

At that moment, the cell door opened and a guard walked in carrying a platter of food. He set it down on the floor and left without even looking at them. Roy's eyes followed the guard closely until he had left. Then the bright orbs eyed the plate of food as if it were poison.

"Bastard…" He hissed.

Disregarding Roy's words, Marth crawled (Oh, how Trave would love to see this, he thought) over to the food and pulled it back over next to the bed. He began to eat it slowly, trying to make it last.

"You're not doing anybody any favors by starving yourself," he said quietly. "Not even you."

Roy's empty stomach throbbed painfully and he forced himself to ignore it. He refused to look at the food.

"He'll make me eat if it gets serious… But I ask you one thing: Do you keep yourself alive for your country or for yourself?"

Marth stopped and looked over at Roy with perplexity in his normally emotionless eyes.

"I… Until now I thought they were the same. I never expected anything from my life except to become King and to rule my people. But now… I'm not so sure."

"That's what I thought." With fierce determination, the battered auburn-haired teen held onto one of the bedposts and pulled himself to his feet. His legs shook unsteadily, but held. "It sounds to me that you aren't ready to be King. I served your father and he had an attitude nothing like yours. You need to think about what you're getting into and how you're going to do it." He spoke those words and walked unsteadily to the washroom with as much dignity as he could muster.

Marth looked after Roy with something akin to astonishment. The boy-General had just spoken the exact truth, or very nearly it.

His father… The former King Zenreth had been headstrong and had always known exactly what he wanted and how to get it, quite the opposite of his calm, focused son. Zenreth had gone after his goals with such tenacity that he stopped just short of being ruthless. Marth had never seen the logic in the way Zenreth handled problems- with brash confidence and almost no foresight. The Prince had always been more subtle and used tact and cunning to win his battles. In truth, Marth was much more like his mother, Queen Fione than his father, both in appearance and temperament. Marth could remember his father scolding him as a child for being too indecisive and un-aggressive, while his mother nodded with approval when Zenreth was out of the room.

"Do I even want to be King?" He asked aloud, surprising himself. "Should I be King? Perhaps Gaimen is doing a better job than I would. Is a false King better than a weak one?"

Marth leaned his head back against the wall and put on his icy mask. He was tired and wished to escape from the haunting questions. He dropped slowly off to sleep, dreaming of less confusing matters.


Roy carefully lowered himself into the large, porcelain bathtub. The water burned his broken skin, causing him to hiss sharply with pain. It was as if fire was licking unmercifully at his wounds.

He reached over and grabbed a fine white cloth used for cleaning oneself. It and the water were soon dyed blood red as he ran it over his body, trying to get at least somewhat clean.

'He's a fool. He doesn't know what he wants,' the teen thought angrily, remembering the exiled Prince's words.

Roy fell asleep like that, his back leaning against the cold inside of the tub, arms dangling lightly over the side with the reddish water lapping softly at chest level.

TBC…

Xan: Well, I hope everybody likes it! This chapter was a little more focused on them, I think. Somebody asked for that. But it doesn't mean we've gotten soft! Just wait for the next chapter! *maniacal laughter*

Vallen: *cheers* Action in the next chapter! *starts laughing with xan*… *stops and looks at her* Now get typing so they can hurry up and read it!