Marth and Navahl trailed the assailants through the city. One followed a hundred feet behind while the other kept pace in a side street. The two pursuers switched positions every five hundred yards in an attempt to remain unnoticed.

The muscle men tread slowly, joking and jostling each other, completely carefree. Marth watched them, seething; these terrorists felt at ease in Altea, confident in their power. He and Navahl could trail ten feet behind them without prompting any alarm. The young king could tear off his cloak before them without inspiring any fear.

"They are the silent rulers of Altea."

Marth's hand twitched over Falchion; from the very first moment he could recall, he had only thought of his beloved nation, of protecting her. These men violated her with an easy smile. Marth felt his Lowell blood screaming in his veins. He restrained himself. Altea couldn't afford his anger; their prey would do them no good dead.

On the outskirts of the city, the two men approached a nondescript house. Navahl and Marth kept their distance.

"Safehouse?"

"Yes." Navahl confirmed. "There are security wind-currents."

"Let's find out what they're hiding."

Marth circled the small, square shack, leaving his wind user to assess the sensitivity of the currents. The house was hardly bigger than the one he'd found Roy in. For all the power these secret rulers possessed, they clearly invested few resources in shelter.

"The leader is stealthy, paranoid."

The shack had no windows, but, like a good safehouse, had an entrance and an exit. He and Navahl could probably storm the place with some success, but the security currents defeated their surprise element. For now, all they could do was observe.

Marth returned to his bodyguard, recounting the house's layout, curious for Navahl's report.

"Who do we have inside?"

"He's powerful." Navahl turned a mischievous smile on the boy king, a smile specially reserved for the younger man. "He'll only allow thugs and dust past that barrier."

"Dust, you say?" Marth's smile reflected Navahl's. As boys, they had perfected a variety of espionage techniques, including sound-transmitting ice particles, for making mischief and playing pranks on Ellis. Marth manifested a flurry of snowflakes, splitting them until they were undetectably fine. He maneuvered the flakes through the wind currents, arranging them around the doors and between slats of wood. As Navahl had predicted, the powerful wind user showed no response to the tiny particles.

The two men retreated out of sight where Marth created a thin plate of ice that would serve as a receiver. He suspended the plate in the air between them so they could hear inside the safehouse.

"…keep her around? Fire boy's dead, isn't he?" Pause. The man's voice became a lustful rasp. "Can we have her, then?"

Slam. All sound from within was temporarily jarred by the rumble of the walls.

"Touch her again, and you'll join the fire user." The voice of authority dropped to an affectionate purr. "She is not to be harmed."

"I don't know why they're keeping her."

Neither did Marth. Not only was Roy's mother alive, she was protected. "If there are no more interruptions?" After another pause, the man Marth could only assume was the leader spoke again. "The Lowell brat has been successfully poisoned. He will go the way of his father."

Marth started.

"It's also slow-acting as an illness; you would have been bedridden for many days, maybe weeks. If you hadn't come to me so soon, I don't think anyone would have ever known that you were poisoned."

His father? Assassinated? His sudden death had been a shock, but his reign of reform had been a constant struggle. And though Cornelius had many enemies, foul play had never been suspected. Garnef had deemed exhaustion the cause.

Garnef.

Was he conspiring with these monsters? He was almost certainly responsible for the attempt on Marth's life. Had he killed Marth's father? Cornelius had trusted him completely, consulted him with every decision. Garnef had even chosen his wife. Why would the high priest murder his closest companion?

He tried to shake the thoughts from his head. It was outrageous. Garnef infinitely preferred Cornelius' rule to Marth's. If he was going to kill anyone, it was the independent boy king.

But Marth's assassination attempt had come only two months after. Was it so outrageous?

Regardless of whether or not Garnef was involved before, the men inside the safehouse had been.

"Now go, tell the others. Leave me"

Marth had heard those words before.

"Leave me."

This man was older, gruffer, but the silken timbre of those two words was eerily familiar.

Before Marth could place the voice, the other occupants of the shack emerged from the front door, murmuring amongst each other. The ice user dissipated his transmitters and threw his cloak over him. Navahl separated himself from his sovereign, following the cluster of heathens along another road.

Marth stayed behind, hesitant. Roy's mother was in that house. Altea's disease was in that house. Marth needed to get inside. But if this leader was as paranoid as Roy made him out to be, there were several bodyguards in there with him. Marth was a swift killer, yes, but the time it would take him to cross the security currents and lay them out would give the wind user inside enough time to react. And short of tearing the place apart, nothing Marth could do would give him the required surprise advantage.

He couldn't. There were too many variables. The frustrated king clenched his jaw. He was so close, so close to the man violating Altea. But now was not the time.

He tore away from the shadows, following a pair of stragglers. Sure that no others were around, Marth signaled his cohort and the two silently descended upon their prey.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

"You might just be the quickest learner I have ever met!" Ellis excitedly exclaimed as Roy mastered drill after drill.

The two sat across from each other, cross-legged, while Roy created concentric rings of fire around them, carefully tracing them out on the ground. It was a difficult exercise, especially for a fire user; not only did he need to manage creating the rings, he had to keep them steadily burning.

Once he completed the task. Ellis instructed him to expand and shrink them simultaneously. But after the previous assignment, it required almost no effort on Roy's part, so he turned his focus on his teacher. She had been the one to finally capture him after he had been caught stealing and though she had imprisoned him, he had felt no ill-will from nor toward her. She was more relaxed than her brother and more open than Navahl.

"So what does being Altea's fire user entail?" Ever since she had labeled him as such, he had been wondering what exactly he had gotten himself into. When he agreed to study fire using, he hadn't foreseen much longevity in the arrangement. He would learn, save his mother and then leave.

Clearly, Marth and Ellis thought differently. The young king had already given Roy blood access to the Lowell castle and Ellis had said he belonged to Altea.

And why not? Once he had his mother safe and secure, he didn't actually have anywhere to take her. A castle would do just fine.

Ellis smiled, pleased that he was warming up to the idea. "Little more than a figurehead, I'm sure." Roy raised an eyebrow, silently questioning the royal attention he was getting. The princess giggled quietly. "Fire users are intimidating to unfriendly nations, yes, but should the bluff be called, you must be ready." She paused. "And alive, of course."

"Of course." The dagger, the lockdown, the Lowell room. Roy scowled. "Because I can't keep myself alive."

"Apparently not." Ellis teased. "It seems like every time Marth leaves you alone, you get yourself killed!"

"Not every time!"

"Well, darling, two near-misses isn't going to convince my little brother."

"Those weren't my fault!"

"So you didn't let your temper get the best of you? You didn't run away from a warm bed in favor of poison? "

"I couldn't leave my mother!"

"Marth would have gone with you." She said gently, trying to calm him. "But you refused him." Roy frowned. He felt like a child, being scolded for his bad judgment. It seemed her brother had told her everything.

"I wasn't going to hand him over to them." The princess smiled Navahl's smile.

"In any case, you need to be more careful; Altea needs you alive. And trust my brother. I know he can be a bit…vague… with his actions, but his intentions are always good."

Roy ran frustrated hands through his hair.

Trust.

Marth regarded Roy as something to be protected. He saw him as a means to an end.

Not yet.

The princess unfolded herself and stood up. "I think we can stop here for today. You should rest; your training will only get harder tomorrow."

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Marth and Navahl had hauled their quarries back to the castle and thrown them into separate dungeons. They would be interrogated alone.

Marth hated the dungeons. He had been happy when his father had built a prison on the other side of the city. He had been less happy when his father had reopened a few cells during the Doluan war.

Spies and assassins met sinister fates in the castle dungeons; King Cornelius spared no sympathy.

Marth had been ten years old when the war had started, when the tortures had started. His father had deemed him ready to face Altea's enemies. The ice prince witnessed interrogation after interrogation with wide eyes. He had been horrified, but he knew his father's victims deserved their deaths.

When Cornelius told him that he too would need to participate, he had thrown up at his feet. His father had scolded him for his cowardice; he was royalty; maintaining order and eliminating enemies were his sacred duties; he needed these skills.

So Marth had followed his king into the dungeons where a Doluan awaited him. The man had been starved, chained to a wall, beaten. Marth wanted to throw up again, but he held his composure. He didn't dare show fear in front of his father. He was royalty.

He had drawn his sword. He wouldn't lay his hands on this poor soul.

Cornelius had asked the questions while his son inflicted the damage. Marth was hesitant; the cuts he made were quick and shallow, superficial. He had known his father was growing impatient, but he couldn't stomach any more than that.

The man gave up nothing.

Cornelius let his son stop.

They would continue the next day.

Marth had bolted from the dungeons, streaming tears, and run straight into his sister's reassuring embrace. He had trembled and cried and cursed.

"I can't do it. I'm such a coward."

Ellis smiled softly. "Don't be ridiculous." He blinked curiously up at her, tears clearing away. "You may not be father, but you are not a coward."

"But…" His protest died on his lips.

"Altea needed father's severity, yes, but soon Altea's strength will be restored and then she will need your integrity. King Cornelius will get Altea on her feet. King Marth will teach her how to walk." She gave his shoulder an encouraging squeeze. "Don't try so hard to be like father."

Marth untangled himself and knuckled his eyes, feeling a little better.

"I have an idea." The prince paused and peeked over his hands. Ellis removed her headband and placed it atop his head. "A new kind of crown for a new kind of king!"

Marth gave her an exasperated look. "This is a tiara!"

"It is not! It's very regal… and masculine." She playfully glared at him.

"It makes me look like girl! I look absurd!"

"Oh, so girls are absurd are they?"

"Yes! They are!"

Marth took a snowball to the face. He wiped the slush off and found his sister shaking with laughter. The ice prince immediately retaliated, nailing Ellis in the stomach.

By the end of their snowball fight, the two Lowell children were reduced to giggles and Marth felt much better.

Later that night, Marth had returned to the dungeon to visit their prisoner. He summoned a blade of ice and gripped it tightly, raising the tip level with the Doluan's heart. The prisoner stirred from his sleep to find the ten year old boy once again before him.

"You are Altea's enemy, but you are also a man. Your silence is commendable, but your treachery is unforgivable. You will endure no more torture, but you will not escape judgment." The prisoner's eyes silently questioned the boy. Marth held steady. Finally the Doluan's eyes fell shut and he let his head slide back in surrender.

Marth drove the blade through.

He left it there for his father to find.

Father and son never discussed the incident.

Cornelius never called Marth a coward again.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Navahl knew how his king felt about torture, but he didn't have the same qualms. Growing up in Dolua, he had found it essential to his own survival; information had been more precious than water.

But so far, Navahl hadn't managed to draw anything but blood from his captive.

The wind user tore his twin blades from the prisoner's shoulders and wiped them clean, sheathing them.

More drastic measures were required. Under different circumstances, it would be difficult, but his target was tied to a chair. Navahl placed his hand over the panicking man's mouth, smiling sadistically into his victim's eyes as he stole the air from his lungs. The man thrashed against his binds, suffocating, forgetting his other wounds in a desperate struggle for life. When Navahl felt the resistance weaken, he stopped, leaving the nearly unconscious man to gasp for air.

Navahl waited patiently while he caught his breath.

"Who are you working for?"

Despite his disheveled state, the prisoner leered at him.

Navahl sighed and repeated the process, to no avail.

He hoped Marth was having more luck with his man, but it was unlikely. The young king was too kind, too fair.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Marth waited for his opponent to stand up again. He was putting up a good fight, but the lowly cohort was no match for Altea's king; he hadn't landed a single blow.

The man pushed against the wall, shaking, unable to lift himself. Instead, he raised his hands and tried to call upon his earth element, managing only a smattering of dirt. Marth gracefully avoided it.

It seemed he and Navahl had selected the weakest of the bunch; he hadn't even fed his man Garnef's element suppressant and the earth user was already too exhausted to summon a pebble. The young king knelt before him, causing the man to flinch; he didn't know why; Marth hadn't touched him, simply let him wear himself down.

"Why are you keeping the woman?"

The man smirked. "Which one?"

Marth felt himself reach a murderous edge. He may not believe in torture, but he felt no misgivings about killing his enemies. "The fire user's mother."

"Oh..." The prisoner purred his realization. "Her."

"Why are you keeping her?" Concern for Roy's mother slipped out as he spoke.

"Well…" Marth saw a malicious smirk spread over his opponent's face. "…everyone needs a little fun." The prisoner turned that smug grin on his captor, only to find it reflected in his eyes. Marth had heard for himself that she wasn't being violated.

"What are you really keeping her for?" The smile died on the man's lips, worrying at Marth's apparent resolve. He shook it off, putting on another brave face.

"Our Lord, you know, he wants her all to himself. Never lets the rest of us play with her." The ice user was growing impatient. If he knew why or how they were keeping her, he might be able to save her, might be able to stop them. The prisoner mistook Marth's impatience with anger and continued to prod him.

"Her son though…"

He had the king's attention now.

"…he let us play with him."

Marth very obviously blanched. The captive needed no more encouragement to continue.

"It was so good to have him." The temperature in the dungeons dropped considerably.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Navahl paused as he sliced off his man's pinky, feeling an ominous chill permeate the air. Something was wrong. Something was wrong with Marth.

The wind user sprinted from his cell.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I may not have had the first go at him, but he was worth it." Frost began to creep up the walls. "His body was so hot. It was like touching fire." The prisoner leaned forward towards the frozen king, lowering his voice to a vindictive whisper. "He moaned like a bitch."

Marth drove his fist through teeth.

The man slammed into the dungeon wall. Marth heard skull split against stone. The prisoner lifted stunned and fearful eyes to the seething sovereign. He saw death in that icy stare.

"Don't worry, Lowell." The prisoner spoke through a broken mouth. "We drugged him, seriously mind-fucked him. He doesn't remember. I wouldn't be surprised if he didn't even remember his own name."

"What is your name?"

"Roy."

"Just Roy?"

"Just Roy."

Marth exploded. Jagged icicles shot in all directions, impaling his enemy against the dungeon wall. He felt his body trembling with rage, saw only white. His thirst for blood was far from quenched. These monsters had not only violated his beloved Altea, they had violated Roy. They had taken everything from him. Good-hearted, hot-blooded, smart-mouthed, quick-minded Roy.

Navahl burst into the cell to find Marth's captive riddled with shards of ice, an especially large one lodged in his brain. The eighteen-year-old boy stood statuesque in the center of the room, cold rage pulsing through him. When Marth turned those ice blue eyes on him, Navahl's heart-stopped. The purity and kindness in them had been replaced with bloodlust. And then realization sparked in them. The deliriously violent king shoved past his friend, racing toward the other cell.

Navahl chased after him, but the smaller man was far faster. Navahl didn't know what had happened between Marth and his prisoner, but he knew what the ice user had in mind for the other prisoner.

He had to stop him.

As he slammed through the cell door, he saw Marth put an ice blade through the man's knee. The man let out a terrible yell, the like of which Navahl had never heard.

The wind user immediately reacted. He sent a powerful gust through the cell, flooring both Marth and his victim. The ice user was on his feet before Navahl could draw his blades. Marth charged him, icy spikes manifesting in the air around him. Navahl propelled the airborne weapons back, shattering them against the wall. He thanked the elements that Marth wasn't in a particularly strategic state of mind, or he would probably be dead already. The younger man drew Falchion and made another charge. Navahl deflected his blow with one blade and slammed the flat of the other against Marth's temple, knocking him to the ground.

Navahl threw himself over the ice user, trying to keep him still. He hurriedly sealed Marth's mouth shut and sucked the air from his lungs. The crazed king thrashed against him, throwing all manner of ice and snow at him. Navahl deflected everything with powerful bursts of air. He held him there until Marth passed out from the lack of oxygen and then immediately forced air back into his body.

He pushed himself off the unconscious boy.

No doubt the young king would awaken soon. Navahl could only hope he had his sense back.

But just in case…

Navahl untied the gasping prisoner and instead bound his friend's hands and feet. Once he did awaken, if he was still in a frenzy, he wouldn't have the wherewithal to cut himself loose, but if he did have his wits, it would be an easy escape.

The wind user left Marth's icicle in the prisoner's knee to keep him from movement, hefted the young king over his shoulder and slammed the cell door shut. He didn't bother locking it. That man wasn't going anywhere and even if he was, he was going leave a very clear trail of blood.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

As Navahl carried his sleeping sovereign through the halls, he felt the young king stir. He halted his footsteps and waited to see which man was on his shoulder.

He sighed relief when he heard the ropes hit the floor. Navahl eased the younger man down. Marth ran agitated fingers through his bangs. The two stood in silence for several moments before Marth collapsed against him.

"They raped him, Navahl."

The wind user wrapped his arms around the fragile boy king, whispering reassurance.

"If I had known about them… I could have—"

"This isn't your fault, Marth." Navahl knew it was useless. The young king felt responsible for guarding every Altean against every evil. And he knew Marth felt especially responsible for Roy. Navahl remembered the panic and desperation in Marth when he had burst through the castle doors, a deathly pale Roy cradled in his arms. Navahl had watched at his side as Sheeda performed the detoxification. Marth had been agitated and crazy every moment. Even when Sheeda had declared Roy perfectly healthy again, Marth had refused to leave the boy's side until he saw it for himself. The young king had blamed himself for Roy's escape and attempted murder. He always blamed himself for the transgressions of others. "There's nothing you can do to change it now. All you can do is protect him, heal him."

He heard Marth choke back a sob before standing upright again, his royal mask of resolve back in its place. The ice user coolly strode towards his bedroom and Navahl faithfully followed.

The room Navahl found at the end of the hall was empty of all its furniture and there were sinister scorch marks on the walls. Marth had just descended into the royal chamber, but Ellis was emerging from it.

"Navahl, what's wrong with him?" She greeted him with an affectionate embrace, but anxiously pulled away. He explained what had happened in the dungeons, what her brother had told her afterwards. The Altean princess nestled herself against him and sighed.

"Are you going to talk to him?" He hugged her tight, placing a comforting kiss against her temple.

"It can wait. I think he needs to be alone right now."

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Marth found Roy sleeping peacefully in main room of the Lowell sanctuary. He looked exhausted. Marth silently approached and carefully sat down on the bed beside the fire user, determined to preserve his rest. He placed a hand on Roy's forehead, gently pushing his bangs back. He was so amazed by the strength in this boy.

"I failed you once." The young fire user leaned into Marth's cool palm, sleepily murmuring. "But I swear, as Altea's king, I will never let anyone hurt you again."