My Sins Won't Leave Me
-Two-
Author's notes: A big huge thanks to Asherien, who beta read this and helped with cultural ideas and attire, and Xirysa, who helped me with the funeral scene.
When Marth was a child, his mother used to tell him bedtime stories, stories about the gods and of legendary heroes, of forgotten lands and forgotten dreams.
"If you are good," she had said into his hair as he sat upon her lap, the book of old folktales opened in front of them, "then the gods will look favourably on you as well."
"But what about Papa?" He had turned to look at his mother inquisitively. "He's a warrior..."
She had turned the page and he remembered the rich illustrations of the afterlife where heroes who fought for their gods won eternal glory.
"Papa will be justly rewarded as well, just as I've always told you. He fights the gods' enemies after all, and does his best to protect his people."
Marth had squirmed in her lap. "Will Papa always be here to protect us?"
He remembered his mother's gentle smile, the way it always reached her eyes.
"Always, Marth. Always."
Marth forced himself from his reverie and looked to the body in the tent he had had Jagen and the others erect - a tent of mourning.
My lady mother... Forgive me, but you were wrong.
He pressed a hand to Caeda's cheek, frowning at the absence of warmth in her face. It had barely been a day and he felt each second ticking by so slowly it was a wonder it was so late in the day. Caeda looked so pale, pale like a porcelain doll, and just as fragile. Marth remembered when he arrived in Talys, how she had remarked on how he was so light compared to her sun-kissed skin. "We used to joke about how I was always protecting you," Marth whispered, his hand moving from her face to her hand, the same one that wiped away his tears as he tried to keep her there with him, "but... You were the one protecting me." He felt overwhelmed, like he was drowning and unable to find shore, find something to grasp upon. He took a deep breath and nearly choked.
Steady yourself, Marth, he thought. You are the face of your people - act like it!
He pulled his hand away and got to his feet, willing himself to regain his composure. The camp was quiet, save for the murmur of the watchmen and a noise in the bushes and Gordin shouting that whatever it was would be breakfast the next day. Marth opened the tent flap to let in some cool air and a smell he should have been used to by now wafted through the air, left over from the battles they fought today. The stench of blood and metal and dirt drifted in on the wind, cool from the downpour earlier, and the canvas of the tent wrinkled in Marth's fist. He felt like tearing it all down and just walking away.
If only it was that easy.
oOo
"Sire, we can't just take a detour like this."
Marth was well aware of Cain's eyes and envisioned that Cain must have thought him crazy for asking this.
"I must do what I feel is right," was all Marth said, straightening in his seat.
"Forgive me, sire, but I don't think right now is a good time to be planning funerals." Cain pointed to the map where 'Talys' had been scrawled out in less than perfect writing. The map was old and well-used and whoever wrote the names on it appeared to have had a shaky hand.
"We would have to take a severe detour and, quite frankly, sire, we just don't have the time. Gharnef is almost right in front of our eyes. If we don't defeat him both now, the consequences-"
"I know the consequences," said Marth calmly, and Cain looked like he had just been backhanded. "Everyone around me has made it perfectly clear that if I don't do this or that, then there will be consequences and the gods won't look upon me favourably. For once, can I do something not because it is expected of me, but because I choose to?" He wore a look of defiance, he knew, and he knew it didn't really suit his features. He took after his mother in facial structure - or so he had always been told - and she always wore a smile, never a frown or a look of opposition.
Marth could tell Cain didn't know what to say or how to answer him. Marth knew he had a point, but then again, there was the issue of being practical.
"Once the funeral services are over and done with," Cain said, and the look he had on his face was one of resignation and reluctance, "you must return to the immediate problem, which would be defeating Gharnef so you can retrieve the sacred blade Falchion."
Marth nodded. "Certainly." There was just a hint of resentment in his words and he hoped Cain didn't pick up on it. "Please tell Jagen at once of my plans."
Cain stood up from the table, his actions causing the candlelight to flicker, and asked, "Sire, what about an escort?"
Because it isn't like Father didn't teach me how to use a sword.
"I'll have you, Merric, and Jagen accompany me."
"And the army? Who shall lead the army in your absence, sire?"
Marth thought for a moment. It wasn't just a matter of someone who could lead, but someone he could trust as well.
"Abel," Marth suggested. "He is the only other who can do so since he is second captain of the army."
Cain looked contemplative for a moment before nodding his head, a bit of red hair falling into his eyes. He smoothed his hair back and said, "Yes, sire." After all, there was no one else to turn to who had the same rank as Abel, and no one Marth trusted more. Marth nodded his approval.
"Send for him at once."
Cain bowed. "Yes, my lord." Cain left without another word, leaving Marth to his thoughts. His eyes drifted to the mark on the map, where Talys was, and wondered if the messenger he sent yesterday reached there yet. Merchant vessels were usually made of high quality materials, designed for space and to weather the heavy storms that went through the waters at this time of year, as well as for speed. Well, at least these were what the boats that docked at Talys for the purpose of trading goods were made of.
"Prince Marth, if I may intrude for just a moment..."
Marth's muscles tensed at the intruder's voice, that soft, feminine voice that sounded so unsure, like a child's; she was outside his tent asking for permission to enter.
Nyna.
Marth straightened and cleared his throat. "Princess Nyna," he said, trying to sound like his father always had in meetings and audiences - neutral, "come in."
The tent opened and there, standing in a stark, unadorned dress with a cloak to hide her features, was Princess Nyna, her hands clasped in front of her as Draug - the knight guarding his quarters - permitted her to enter. The flap closed behind her and Marth stood, as etiquette detailed. He offered her the seat on the other side of the table and she sat slowly, as if unsure if she wanted to sit or stand, and removed the hood from her face, letting it fall onto her shoulders. Marth hesitated a moment before sitting down as well.
"What do you need, Lady Nyna?"
Nyna looked guilty of something, like a child who was caught sneaking sweets before supper.
"I couldn't help but overhear that you are planning on sailing to Talys," she began, staring more at her hands than at Marth. Marth hated it when people talked to him and yet refused to look directly into his eyes. His father always said it was a sign of dishonesty; his mother always said it was a sign of shyness.
I certainly hope it is the latter, and you are not trying to take me for a fool.
"Yes," Marth confirmed. "It is my duty as commander of the army to take the dead to their loved ones."
Nyna nodded and looked up at him. "In Caeda's case, it is even more important to do so. She is a princess and deserves to return to her homeland…."
She didn't deserve to die in the first place, Marth thought, the slant of his eyebrows changing ever-so slightly. "What have you come here for, Lady Nyna?"
Nyna cleared her throat and looked at Marth a little more intensely. "I wish to go with you."
Marth shook his head once. "I cannot allow that, Princess."
"Marth-"
He raised a hand and she fell silent.
"As it stands," Marth said, returning his arm to its original position on the half-rotted table, "it is already a risk with just myself and a couple of knights. I cannot afford to let you come with us when so many people are after you."
Nyna shook her head, her eyes narrowed. "I wish to pay my respects. After all, King Mostyn has just lost his only daughter."
Marth clenched his jaw. Hearing that was like squeezing lime juice into an open wound. He saw an apologetic look flash in Nyna's eyes.
"F-Forgive me, Marth, I did not mean to cause you any more pain."
Marth reached across the table and gently placed his hand on hers and shook his head. She stared at it.
"Marth?" She grasped at his hand and he pulled it away quickly. "Please, let me come with you."
"I cannot-"
Nyna silenced him with her hand on his, hers grasping tightly at his. "Do not forget that I have lost loved ones as well." I can sympathize, she said with her eyes.
"You will not relent, will you?"
Nyna shook her head. "I can be just as stubborn as you, Marth."
Marth sighed. "Lady Nyna..."
"I will be sure to remain hidden at all times, and I will not wear anything that would give my status away. Are we in agreement?"
Marth nodded curtly. "We will be setting sail just a little after dawn. I expect you to be ready at that time."
Nyna bowed slightly. "Of course."
Marth stood, signaling this meeting had gone on long enough. "My lady."
Nyna rose with ease and let Marth lead her to the entrance of the tent. He opened it and watched as she drew up her hood to protect herself from the sudden rain.
"Be well, Prince Marth," she said.
"You as well," he replied, and watched her walk through the rain to, hopefully, shelter of sorts.
"Draug," Marth said, "find me Cain. I need to tell him of our changed plans."
Draug bowed. "Yes, sir."
Marth looked skyward, blinking whenever a rain drop would fall on his face.
"Lord Merric said it was going to be a windy, stormy day tomorrow," Draug said. "Be careful, sire. We cannot afford to lose you out at sea."
Of course you can't.
oOo
The dampness in the cold air had Jagen complaining about the aches in his bones. Marth watched his breath condense in the air and took that to mean it was a lot colder than he felt right now.
"I don't recall it being so bitterly cold at dawn," Cain said, pulling his fur lined cloak tighter around him. "This is the coldest it's been since the dead of winter."
"You forget, Sir Cain, that it's barely into the thawing season," Merric said, "and that the waters around this time of the year are not yet warm."
Cain leaned against the side of the sea vessel. "They are in Altea," he muttered, hugging one knee to his chest.
At the mention of Altea, Marth became just a little homesick. It was bad enough that he, Cain, and Jagen were on a boat to Talys once before - here they were again, with the addition of Merric and Nyna and the exclusion of Gordin, Abel, and Draug.
It doesn't help that I hate sailing.
He shivered and Merric moved so he was closer to him.
"If you need me to, I can always start a fire to warm us all," said Merric. Marth did not fail to miss the hopeful gleam in the mage's eye. He remembered the last time Merric used fire magic around him—his mother and sister spent the better part of a day fixing Marth up. He smiled faintly at the memory of his mother and sister's gentle hands hovering over the burns, their voices chanting soothing sounding words. Of course, the healing magic they were using hurt more than the burns themselves.
"That's quite all right, Merric," Marth said, his mind drifting back to the present, his eyes lingering on the hidden scars still left over from Merric's childhood magical experimentation. "I think if we huddle together, our body heat should be enough to keep us from catching a chill."
Merric just shrugged and moved so his shoulder was touching Marth's.
"I don't mind sharing body heat with you."
Marth tried to not blush.
"How much longer until we are to Talys?" Merric questioned.
Jagen gave him a look. "We just left about an hour ago, Young Merric."
Merric looked to the sky. "It's hard to tell the time - there's too much fog."
It was foggy then, too. Cold, foggy, and absolutely miserable. Marth stood and walked over to the port side of the ship, his eyes cast to the ocean below and then to what he could see of the horizon.
Caeda won't be there to greet me this time.
oOo
Marth was more prepared for walking on land this time, or so he thought. Merric kept a firm grip on his arm the entire way down the walkway leading to the port. There were mostly fishermen at the docks at this time of day - the rest of the bustling port town would be deeper inside, going about their business inside their homes or shops. Marth kept his hood up, as he had done two years ago, and began the long, familiar walk to the castle, Merric next to him, then Nyna, dressed in a simple off-white gown, and Cain and Jagen following up the group. As he walked past, few even noticed him, and those who did didn't even give him a second glance. To them, he was a stranger, someone just passing through, someone who would be gone in a day or two. Marth kept a tight hold on the bundle in his arms and a queasy feeling arose from the pit of his stomach as Talys Castle came into view.
It was just as he remembered, with large stone masonry, wrought-iron gates, and beige cobblestone leading to the drawbridge and then continuing into the castle grounds proper. He shifted what he was carrying and stopped at the castle gates, where two guards were stationed.
"What is your business, sir?" quipped the guard close to Merric.
"I have an audience with King Mostyn," said Marth, as he removed his hood. "He should be expecting me."
The soldier quirked an eyebrow. "Prince Marth of Altea? But you are supposed to be in-"
"If you need further proof of who I am, I am willing to show it." He held out his hand and showed them the royal insignia engraved on his ring.
The guard gestured to the other and the gates rose.
"Right inside, Prince Marth." He tipped his helmet to the prince and Marth nodded before leading the way inside.
oOo
"The throne room is quite large," Merric remarked. "I don't recall seeing anything like it."
Cain made a shushing noise and Marth almost felt Cain collide into his back. There, sitting atop the throne was King Mostyn, who looked at them with saddened, yet relieved eyes.
"You have made it in record time, Prince Marth," he said, rising now from his seat. Marth got down on one knee and bowed as best as he could.
"I wish we could have met under happier circumstances," Marth said, his eyes looking at the floor. Marth felt a hand on his shoulder and saw it was the king's.
"Stand, Marth. You do not need to show subservience to me."
Marth stared at him for but a moment before standing once more.
"Now what is the news you have to share with me?"
Marth felt confused. "Have you not received my letter?"
"I have not received any letters since the beginning of the month."
That's the last time I trust merchants from Medon.
"So then you do not know..."
"Do not know what?"
Marth swallowed the lump forming in his throat and willed his heart to stop pounding against his rib cage.
"I have brought Caeda back to you, Your Majesty."
King Mostyn's eyes brightened. "Caeda? Where is she?"
Marth cleared his throat and pulled back a corner of the cloth wrapped around what he was holding. King Mostyn's face drained of all colour and he stumbled back a few paces.
Marth was holding the only child King Mostyn had in his arms as if she were some precious, priceless object, and his heart sank at the king's reaction.
"Forgive me, Your Majesty," Marth said, his voice soft, "I could not protect her."
The king said nothing, his eyes wide as Marth fell back onto his knees.
"I tried to save her," was all Marth could whisper. "I tried..."
King Mostyn kneeled down in front of Marth. "You did nothing wrong, Marth. You cannot blame yourself."
Marth looked him right in the eye.
"I loved her," he said, finally admitting it to himself. "I loved your daughter..."
The king nodded. "I know," he said. "She loved you as well."
I know, Marth thought. I know.
King Mostyn looked at his daughter in a way only a father could.
"You did well, Marth," he said, glancing back at him. "You brought her home."
oOo
In the days that followed, the sky had brightened some, and Merric predicted that the weather would be warmer by week's end simply by gauging patterns in the winds. Marth tried to remain as unobtrusive as possible in the funeral arrangements, instead keeping himself busy with mundane, boring activities. Skipping rocks, especially, seemed to keep him from the fray.
He and Caeda used to come down to the beach near dusk, where she would feed the birds and skip the rocks on the ocean's surface. She even made a game out of it, and taught him how to play it. He chuckled as one of his rocks simply sunk in the water.
Even now I'm rubbish at it.
He didn't care, however, how great a rock skipper he was. The point was to keep his mind preoccupied with other things that had nothing to do with why he was in Talys, or the war that was still being waged in his absence all the way in Medon, or Gharnef or any of it. There was a creeping sense of irresponsibility, of rebellion, behind the decision he made.
"It feels good," he said to the seagulls above, as a cool ocean breeze swept over him, "to not have to listen to someone else for a change."
But what about your comrades in Medon? What about Gharnef? What about retrieving Falchion? What about Elice?
Marth sighed. "My conscience, however, does not agree with me."
He threw the last of his rocks into the water and took one last look at the beautiful view before turning on his heel and leaving.
oOo
When Marth woke up on his third day in Talys, the sun was peeking in from between the clouds and through the thin curtain covering his window. He rubbed at his eyes and turned over in his bed, his back to the window now. He didn't feel like admiring the sun today, not when today was going to be the bleakest one yet. He stumbled out of bed and pulled on his shirt and trousers before covering that with his tunic and fastening it closed with his sword belt. He pulled on his boots and fetched his cape from the corner of the headboard, made sure he had all of his personal effects, and left, closing the door behind him. The eastern castle was strangely quiet, despite the fact that it was occupied, and he figured Jagen and Cain would have been up by now, talking about battle plans and strategies they could use for when the fight against Gharnef came. He walked down the stairs and bumped into Merric along the way.
"I was just coming to get you," the mage said with a smile. "Sir Cain sent me to wake you."
Marth peered past him. "What of Cain, then?"
"He went on ahead to the castle with General Jagen... Just to scout the place out, of course."
"And Princess Nyna? Where is she?"
Merric seemed lost in thought briefly. "She is still secluded in her room. Sir Cain checked up on her this morning and said she was very deep in prayer."
Marth nodded. "I see... Is it too late for breakfast?"
Merric grinned. "Nope! I was just going to start it after I got you up and ready."
Marth grimaced once Merric's back was turned and followed him down the stairs. He had good reason to be wary of Merric's cooking. For one thing, he made a mess. For another, the last time he tried to cook, he nearly set fire to the camp.
Unfortunately for Marth, Merric was the only one in the castle right now who knew how to cook.
oOo
"This place seems abandoned," Merric said, as he escorted Marth throughout the town. Cain and Jagen returned from their scouting and accompanied Princess Nyna to the castle, where they would meet up with them.
"Why would someone go and leave their town like this?"
"Sometimes you just need to move on. Perhaps they ran out of resources, or it just wasn't practical for them to live here anymore."
Marth looked around at all of the closed shops, signs nailed to their doors declaring in Talysian that they were closed for a week of mourning. Marth lingered in front of one particular shop and Merric nearly walked on without his charge.
"Marth?"
Marth shook his head and caught up with his friend. "Nothing. Just a-"
"Memories," Merric finished, nodding with understanding. "You and Princess Caeda used to visit this place a lot, or so you told me."
Marth continued walking. "It was her favourite place to go."
Merric eventually fell in line with Marth's steps. "Do you know where it's actually taking place?"
"Where what is taking place?"
Merric shot him a look. "The funeral."
"Oh." Marth paused for a moment. "At the beach, the one right by the castle."
They stopped at a fork in the road and Merric tried to read the signs. One pointed up a rather large hill lined by houses and trees; the other descended down a minor slope and was lined with brush and hedges.
"Which way?"
Marth pointed to the ascending path and Merric followed close behind. Merric's face was alight in excitement as he gazed at the scenery.
The path led into a clearing and there, right in front of the gates, were what looked to be hundreds of people clamouring about.
"Should they know you're here, Marth?"
Marth pulled the hood of his cloak up and made sure it kept his face hidden from view. "I am sure they will find out sooner or later, but I'd rather they not." He looked around, his eyes looking for something in particular... He grabbed Merric by the sleeve of his tunic and said, "This way."
He heard Merric yelp as he pulled the mage after him, down a path that followed a stream. No one would know it was even there, the plants were so thick, and vines made it difficult to walk.
"I'm guessing this is a secret path?"
"Yes. King Mostyn and Caeda brought me this way when I first came here. The villagers were a little...wary of my coming here in the beginning."
Merric cried out and Marth steadied him so he wouldn't trip over an overgrown tree root.
"Wary?" Merric questioned.
"They thought I was going to lead the war here."
After stepping over some bramble and dodging a low-hanging branch, they came to the back of the castle, near the courtyard, and again there were two paths - they could continue down on the road they were on, or they could go right and into the courtyard proper.
"The princess and the others will be expecting us inside," Marth said. "We will have to go this way." He gestured to the clearer, more maintained path.
"Will we have to bring them through here?"
Marth shook his head. "No, I don't believe so. Not as long as no one can recognise us." He walked into the courtyard and Merric followed him, found the door that led into the kitchens, and tugged it open.
oOo
The sun was high in the sky, causing the water to shimmer in the light that managed to filter through the clouds. Though the sky wasn't as cloudy as it was in the morning when he first woke up, it was still a little overcast. He met Princess Nyna at the bottom of the sandy hill that led to the beach itself, sand marring the otherwise ivory fabric. The wind tugged at her braided hair, as if trying to remove the black netted veil from her head. If Marth didn't know any better, he could have said that the young woman in front of him was just an ordinary person, not a princess. Certainly not the princess of Archanea.
"Sir Cain said to wait inside the castle for you, but the view was just so lovely..." She turned around, away from him. "It saddens me that it is such a beautiful day and such a mournful occasion..."
She walked all along the shoreline, towards the boat tied to the shore and Marth followed her. When she reached the starboard side of the boat, Nyna fell to her knees and clasped her hands in prayer. Marth went around to the other side and knelt down in the sand, took Caeda's hand in his and kissed the back of it.
Caeda...
"From the sea, we are born," said King Mostyn, his hair looking even greyer in this light, "and to the sea, we return." He looked down at Caeda with a bittersweet smile.
"And now, my child, it is time for you to return."
Marth stood there, Caeda's hand still in his, his eyes watering from the strong smoke of the incense as King Mostyn cleansed the body with it. He placed them in a ceramic holder at her feet, in front of the white lilies that were spread out there. He held a small vial of what looked like water over the smoke and muttered something Marth couldn't make out before sprinkling it over Caeda's body.
Somewhere from the town, a church bell rang out, signaling the first half of the work day was over. The timing sent a chill up Marth's spine. King Mostyn untied the rope that connected the boat to an old wooden spike in the sand, and threw it out to the sea. He nodded to two men who got on either side of the boat, and they began to push when Marth said, "Wait."
King Mostyn looked at Marth with troubled eyes. "What is it?"
Marth's gaze faltered and he looked back at Caeda. "There is something I wish to tell her before she leaves me."
The two men looked to King Mostyn and he nodded.
"Very well."
Marth knelt down beside Caeda once more, his lips to her ear and he said the first thing that came to mind before kissing her forehead and moving away. He watched as the two men hauled the boat out to sea and let the current grab hold of it. He followed Caeda until she drifted past the horizon and out of view, the smoke from the incense trailing after her.
He felt a hand on his shoulder, light, filled with warmth, and saw Nyna there, her eyes red from mourning. She had pinned her veil back and now he could see her face clearly. Secretly he wished she had left it down, for her face was splotchy from her tears, but he said nothing to her, just looked at her.
"Marth..." She pulled her gaze away and instead pushed against him, her other arm underneath her as she clung to him. To Marth, it was a foreign gesture, what Nyna was doing. He had certainly been embraced before-his mother used to hold him in her arms all the time as a child, as did his sister - but never in this way. His mother always pulled him to her and hugged him from behind, as was what mothers always did. It was how she protected her children.
Cain looked like he was about to say something, motion for Her Highness to please remove herself, but Marth shook his head and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
"I am sorry," Nyna said, her voice cracking slightly. She pulled away and dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. "I am usually not like this at all."
Marth shook his head. "It's all right, Princess. We all have a moment of weakness."
He looked out to sea again, the wind blowing even harder now, tousling his hair, ruffling his clothes, almost playfully. He nodded to Cain and Jagen and escorted Princess Nyna over to Cain, who offered her his arm. She took it and mouthed what looked to be like, "Thank you," and carefully walked up the sandy slope, Cain taking care to make sure she didn't fall. Jagen took his time and looked after the two as well as watching his own footing.
"Shall we head back, Marth?"
Marth jumped as Merric seemed to appear out of nowhere. He nearly laughed-Merric was covered in sand, as if he had fallen down the sand dunes that led from the shore to the cobblestone roads of the castle town.
"Yes." He was about to lead the way when Merric stopped him.
"What?"
Merric gave him a concerned, serious look. "I'm here for you, you know. If you ever need anything…."
"Merric-"
"Promise me," Merric said, and Marth caught the pleading edge to his voice. "Promise me you will come to me if you need help."
Marth didn't know what prompted such concern.
"Merric-"
"Promise me." He stepped away. "I know you all too well, Marth. I can see right through you. I know when you need to talk, or want to say something but feel you can't. I also know I cannot force you to do so. That's why I want you to come to me." He smiled. "Bishop Wendell always said I was a good listener, after all, and...that's what friends do."
Marth was touched. "You truly are something, Merric."
"So you'll come to me if you need anything?"
Marth nodded. "Yes, I will. Now can we get back to the castle? It's freezing out here and I don't wish to catch a chill."
Merric gestured ahead. "As you wish. Your Majesty first."
Marth shook his head and would have rolled his eyes if it was proper for him to do so. "I am not a king yet."
"No, you're right," Merric conceded. "But you will be."
"I have a war to win first."
"True enough. We will win it, though."
"We can't afford to not," Marth said, and watched as Merric slid back down the slope. "Merric, you're a mage, aren't you?"
"Yes!"
"Can't you carry yourself up here using the power of wind or something?" Marth was at the top now.
"I could, but I'd end up destroying this beautiful sand dune!"
Marth sighed and, as Merric struggled to regain his footing, looked out to the horizon once more before looking down at his hand.
I will never love another as much as I loved you.