Last chapter. As usual, standard disclaimers apply. Everybody send my lovely beta The Tears of Ages love, because she's amazing for slogging through so many chapters' worth of drafts!
Anyway, there are no real warnings this time. Enjoy!
He dreamed that before him floated a sphere of golden light. Of course, it wasn't just light—he knew that much, for from within the sphere were voices—three female voices, singing harmoniously in a language he had never heard before.
But the harmony wasn't the only thing he heard—there was the inexplicable quiet. The angry warlock, the weeping man—both were suddenly gone, and he felt a rift for their absence. It seemed strange, to hear silence where there had before been the clashing of spells, the shouting of the raging warlock, and the weeping man's tortured cries. The cacophony was reduced to nothing, and he was alone.
Alone. Unloved. Unwanted. He'd betrayed his love and let the angry warlock possess him, twisted by lust for power and crazed by the knowledge that his love no longer remembered him. For a moment, he wished only to die—and then a ray of warmth pierced him, and a voice spoke in him.
"He wished that you were happy. We shall make it so."
The light blazed brightly, and he was consumed.
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"—that's why he doesn't even remember what he did when he wakes up next to you after screwing you into the floor. I hear he might actually propose to some princess who wandered into the castle a few days back. She's pretty, you know. And female… you never could give him an heir, after all."
"… Shut up," he told the voice calmly. "I know what you want now, and I don't care what you'll offer me. No."
Once upon a time
An arrow was flying straight at him, blackened tip glinting deadly in the moonlight. Reflexively he sidestepped and snagged the arrow by the shaft, looking around for the archer who'd shot it. When he looked at the fletching, though, he recognized it as one of Belle's arrows—and that meant only one thing. Stepping out of the shrubbery, he met the guard's eyes with a nonchalant greeting.
"Oh no… General?"
"If I had been an enemy scout I would likely be dead by now. Well-shot," he told her, idly spinning the arrow in his hand. Turning it so that it was pointed tip-first at himself, he walked over to her—he knew this moment was dangerous, knew it when he found his eyes involuntarily straying to the lightly tanned column of her throat, eyeing her jugular—"Here. Save you arrows for the ones you intend to turn into pincushions, will you?" He grinned, and she took the arrow from him with a smile.
"Thank you, General. Shouldn't you be resting, though? Your watch isn't for another two hours or so, sir."
"Mm… two hours, is it? I've been rather restless, and I don't think I'll be able to sleep. Perhaps I'll occupy my time some other way…" He paused, and smiled morosely. "Maybe I will write him a letter."
Long ago and far away
He blinked back the tears welling up in his eyes and nodded, allowing the Sixth Unit to escort him as he carried Marth to the healers' bay, and if the healers who tended to the prince noticed the saltwater tracking its way down his face they said nothing. Caleb nodded at him, patting him solidly on the back in encouragement before leaving to help the unit determine who was to be left behind to guard the infirmary. Roy felt no less guilty about the whole affair, but when a healer informed him that the prince was in stable condition and should wake up soon he went to sit by the prince's bedside.
For all that Marth had closed his blank eyes, lying still on the bed like a beautiful corpse, his hand was warm. The general closed his own eyes and remembered to keep his grip on the prince's hand relaxed, so he wouldn't hurt him any further.
When the prince opened his eyes, blue orbs regaining their usual lively spark, the general leaned down and planted a soft kiss on his cheek.
There lived a prince
The blank look on the prince's face as he asked that deadly question registered, and immediately Roy regretted his jubilant affection. What if he'd scared him away? But… Marth was no careless player—that, the general knew for sure. Something had clearly happened for them to have fallen into bed so fast. He cherished the memory of their shared passion, but knew he would have to wait until the prince's memory truly returned. "… Ah. Well, I was under the impression that we had been making love," he answered, thoughtfully rather than crushed like he felt he'd been once before. "I… must confess I did enjoy myself," he added mischievously, grinning like a schoolboy as the prince turned three shades of red.
"I see," the prince replied, not quite meeting his eyes.
"Worry not, Highness, I was quite willing to be on the receiving end." Roy pulled away for a moment to don his breeches. "And… Marth, I know it will sound strange, and possibly you may wonder what strange poison the apothecary has dosed me with, but I swear it is the truth—I love you. And I will always love you, and I'll wait for the day when you remember what it was we had before my rash folly turned everything upon its head."
And a general
"—to inform you that His Royal Highness has found a lovely woman who will serve as his official companion for all royal functions from here on. Your presence will not be required, General, save when it is requested." The man's oily tone made him feel sick, but—had he been here before? It felt so familiar, like he'd already been here, like he'd already done this, had this conversation…—for some reason, he felt curiously at peace when he reached up to his throat to toy with the pendant hidden under his collar.
"Is that so?" he heard his voice reply, coldly. No, stop. This is where everything began to go wrong… "I cannot imagine you are the most reliable source of the prince's feelings, however. Though he may be occasionally exasperated with me, for my youth and hot temper, my lord prince does respect me enough that he would come tell me this to my face, Xavier."
"Heh. You, boy, know nothing of which you speak. You see, 'tis this woman who has become His Royal Highness' new favorite companion… in more than one way. You may ask any of the castle servants, and those who gossip will tell you exactly that." The man looked insufferably smug—how did he ever fall for it? He'd never liked him, even if the prince trusted him—and suddenly Roy understood. The man was lying.
"Mm. I see. I believe I shall have to go congratulate the prince for deciphering the secret of falling in and out of love, then. The last I heard he was very much enamored of a certain muscular redhead shorter than he with an affinity for sharp metal objects." The corner of the general's mouth perked up into a half-smile, and inside where the advisor could not hear him he laughed uproariously. He'd heard exactly that from some of the serving maids as he walked by one day, the girl laughing merrily as her gossip partner realized exactly who she was talking about.
"What? P-preposterous!" Ah. So the man was indeed lying. He wouldn't stutter if the prince had truly sent him. "This woman is blonde, and very well known at court!"
"So he's fucking Raine? Wow. That's a surprise. She's quite the fiery one, although I assume you'd know that from the several times you made passes at her and got summarily rejected." Roy couldn't stop the ear-to-ear grin on his face, even as the advisor turned several shades of red—he looked angry, at that—for his uncouth language.
"N-no! He's not having anything to do with those heathens you call soldiers! His Highness' companion is a respectable woman of the court!"
The general laughed, at this point. The advisor had taken the bait—hook, line, and sinker. "Well, now. Do you want to know what I heard? Even if you don't, I'll tell you anyway." He walked up to the advisor and stared him in the eye, confident and proud. Xavier, a head taller than him, flinched. "I heard, you see, that my lord prince is in love. Very much, so… so much that he will never have any children, for the one whom he loves cannot bear him any."
The advisor glared as best as he could, but quailed under the general's steady gaze. "I-is that so? What, does he love a nun?"
"Let me tell you a secret, Xavier." Roy smiled, toothily. "He loves a soldier. A soldier who left his homeland in search of the prince who accidentally took his heart home, you see. Would you like to know who that is?"
"P-preposterous! What prince would fall in love with a lowly soldier? And a male soldier, at that?"
"Oh, but it's true." The general grinned like a schoolboy, then, knowing the tide had turned in his favor this time. This time, things were different. He knew better, now. "You see, I know. Because there is one person whom he holds at night and whispers tender things to, and swears he'll always love and always cherish."
Xavier had gone pale, perhaps sensing that the conversation was rapidly shifting out of his favor. "How would you know that, knave? You're naught but the stuck-up young general His Highness took in out of pity!"
"Hm. Pity it may have been, but respect it is now." Roy turned to look out the window at the gently falling snow outside. "And how would I know, indeed? For love of my lord prince, I came here. And for his love I will stay. This is my home now, and I will remain here for as long as my lord prince will have me. It matters not what you say to me."
And they were very much in love.
He rode out into the gentle snowfall, sticking his tongue out to catch a snowflake as if he were but a small boy. It was cold, but not terribly so—his black gelding whickered at him, as if sensing the turmoil in his thoughts. Absentmindedly he patted the horse's neck. "I missed you, boy."
The gelding snorted, as if saying, "You silly man, what are you talking about?"
"The wind is picking up. Let's go back, Artemis."
Turning back towards the castle, Artemis trotted easily towards the warmth of the stables he knew waited for him. The expression on his rider's face was something of a deep, profound calm—as if a conundrum he'd long sought the answer for had finally been resolved.
-----
Outside, a blizzard raged. He'd barely finished tending to Artemis before it had come, howling its fury and piling snow everywhere. It would be beautiful, once the storm had passed—new snow everywhere, unbroken, clean, white and wonderful. He could take Marth outside, get him away from those matrimony-minded advisors and let him loosen up a bit—maybe even throw a couple snowballs at him.
But that was something for later. Right now, he had someplace to be.
-----
"—is unbecoming, that you grovel for a commoner! No matter that he is your general, he is still a commoner and no amount of frills, lace, or prestige that you might give him will change that!" The man's voice sounded out into the hallways, so adamant he seemed.
"That would be all right. I've never liked frills or lace anyway, and I don't really see the need to doll someone up in such when more practical fabric would do just as well," Roy drawled from the doorway.
Marth looked up from his desk, shocked. "Roy? Is… is that you?"
"I apologize for forgetting to knock, my prince."
The prince replaced his pen and stood, abruptly. "Xavier, please leave. I would like to have a conversation with my general in private."
Looking as though he had something to say, the advisor left… reluctantly, one might add. Roy closed the door after him.
--
"I thought you had left this place," the prince murmured.
"And leave you behind? Never," he answered. "Never, my liege."
Marth walked up to him, wetting his lips nervously. "I was writing you a letter, my love."
"Oh? And what did this letter say?"
"… I love you. And I will always love you, no matter what." The prince laughed. "It is funny, to think of it—I wanted only to say this, and yet in the letter it is phrased so badly!"
"My prince… Marth, may I ask you something?"
"Of course, Roy."
"… Might I kiss you?"
There was a pause, and a genuine smile spread across the prince's face. "You need not even ask, my love."
And their lips met, his arms unconsciously wrapping around the prince—his love, his and his alone, for all of time if he could help it—as the kiss deepened. From somewhere far away there came the chime of a single, tiny bell.
"Well played, young general. Well played."
The letter, incomplete, lay where it had been forgotten.
-end-