vii
i
Boots cross the slick floor of a foreign keep. Banners play against the gentle draft that dances through the space, amber in the warmth of the sun.
Welcome. All are welcome here.
Here they will fight, but hatred, pain, they will not birth. There will be only light, like that which fills the foyer of the great Stadium and tickles the skin. Here there is no inhumanity under the crest of the worlds united, just rivals standing side by side.
Hands brush together. Draconic violet flashes against the crown of a prince.
The future collapses. The dragons are dead.
i
"Maybe we can skip introductions! A joke, of course."
ii
The sleepy sunsets stroke their fingers through their hair, caressing the worlds. The stars blink open their eyes, guardians of the sleeping world and fellows of the dwellers of the night.
The suns reach out a gentle hand, lowering their weapons of play before it and its children lower their heads. The healing has begun. Silence only for those who need it and crave its peace, though adventure never sleeps.
The suns are roused, shining fire on the bitter earth, by the clashing of metal on the horizon that terrorise the grieving moons. The very earths bellow in fury, agony, subjugation, desperation for no escape.
The new wars are beginning.
ii
"We'll see each other again?"
ii
(Something goes wrong. The world flickers.)
iii
Flames
Lick at the ankle
Chars fingertips
Burns knuckles through gloves
A flash halts the sword
A jaw halts the fist
Crash to the floor. Starry sky floods the eyes
Hate. Hate. Hate
Grab by the hair with hands shaking with hate.
Smash the face in
Bleeding noses, bruised foreheads, spittle aflight, hair moist and nose filled with the reek of sweat mingle with the waters of the holy fountain.
Vision clears
Eyes burn by a white world, shaded only by the abandoned, singed banners of old camaraderie.
iii
"We miss you, I miss you. Write back soon."
iv
They let their friends burn in the apocalypse surrounding them. Cries mingle with the roar of beasts. There's nothing but a silent ring of ash and the two bodies embraced within it.
iv
"I'm not ready. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm not good enough for you."
v
The world fades away. The silence whines in the ears. There's always peace in the darkness, these days.
Hands wrap around the green pommel of the sword. Go.
Blade nestles under the chin.
A gentle hand parses the gap.
He says no.
He says no. Let me have this.
I won't let you.
Let me have this!
I reject this.
Leave me or die!
Aims beneath the breastplate. Cuts their hands as they push the blade away. Again. Again. Swipe at the side. Down at the skull. Slice the scabbard off their hip. Slash as they scramble for the weapon. Kick it away. Ignite and rend the ground.
But he pushes through in singes, smashes his elbow into his jaw and claims the blade as his own.
The battle is won.
Then no more.
Yes, no more.
Wind rustles their hair and Falchion is in Roy's hands. Instinct takes over: Marth deflects the blow and impales Roy, again. His arms shake and turn to jelly as they both crumple to the floor.
"Thank you." Roy looks down at the ravaged flesh and then at Marth, eyes crinkled in happiness. He coughs violently and slumps forward, Marth catches him. He wails into Roy's neck, chest heaving in suffocating agony, knuckles white and clutching fistfuls of flame hair, arms wrapped around a lifeless life raft.
A/n: Didn't know what to do with this one for ages so I wrote the same thing lol