Sheik stood quietly, eyes darting quickly as her breath. She felt the sunlight seeping into her, the flowers in her lungs; she closed her eyes, counted to ten, and plunged into the water below.

Zelda moved quietly into the crowded room, feeling the questions in the air, the excited ramblings of thoughts. She smiled slightly when a few caught her attention, and continued through the colorful throng.

On the other side of the room, her hawk-like vision spotted a familiar blue-headed boy, and she found herself waiting for him to notice her. Desperately? She rolled her eyes. She, a princess, was never desperate for attention.

But...why wasn't he looking?

She shrugged it off and studied the stage built in front of the crowd. Intricate marble engravings and patterns were etched into the side of the pillars that held it up, resembling what she recognized as the Pantheon of homosapien mythology. Dancing in the vaulted ceilings were several chandeliers, just like the dining room, and Zelda was vaguely impressed with the amount of candles. Curious as to the meeting, she turned to find Link.

Across the room, Pit tucked in his wings and landed gently on the cold floor. He spotted Lucas, the blond psychic boy, and went to say-

"Glad to see you made it," a voice said, louder than the rest of the dim chatter.

Caught off guard, Pit wheeled around, stumbled, fell, and managed to catch himself as he made eye contact with the owner of the voice.

Looming at least five feet above him stood an enormous, dark-skinned man with blazes of hair. Ganondorf grinned crookedly from ear to ear. "Startled you."

It was a fact, not an apology, or a question. It made Pit's already uneasy feeling grow worse.

"Yeah," he chuckled awkwardly, looking for an escape in the multiple pockets of Brothers. Maybe if he said he knew a guy-

"I think," the Gerudo King rumbled slowly, his deep voice and dark eyes piercing through the angel, "we should ally ourselves."

So surprised he wasn't even frightened, Pit gawked up at him. "Me?" he squeaked. "Why? I'm not even good," he spit out before he caught himself.

Ganondorf let out a long, deep laugh, and Pit could have swore he felt it shake the floor. "I believe that we newcomers will fare better if we stay true to each other." He looked directly into Pit's eyes, innocent blue meeting stained, sinful, and tormented amber. The angel stood, stunned, almost mesmerized by the depth, the pain those eyes contained.

But he also felt something else. He felt...honesty.

"Um..." conflicted by the signals he was getting, Pit floundered with his tongue, but couldn't make more than a few guttural noises. Thankfully, as he abashedly broke gaze to stare at his feet, a few echoing steps were heard. As Ganondorf turned his attention away to observe Mario climbing the tile steps, Pit took his chance to slip away, his legs still jittery and his mind utterly boggled.

"Hey," a voice said casually, and Pit jerked, jumping until he felt Ike's warm hand on his shoulder.

"Whoa, it's okay, kid," Ike said, looking into Pit's face like a concerned parent. "What's up? I saw that thing with Ganondorf...you okay?"

Pit gazed back, mildly confused, but it was pushed to the back of his mind as Mario began talking into the crowd.

"Yeah, I'm okay," he muttered, his voice dropping to barely audible as Mario talked. "I'll tell you about it later."

Ike nodded solemnly, and turned to give Mario the everlasting attention he so deserved.

"Hello, Brothers," Mario was saying, his chin held high, making the word 'brothers' sound like a sad attempt at associating himself with the lowly. "In honor of the continuation of the Super Smash Brothers Tournament..." here he awaited the approving applause and cheers of the Smashers to quiet down, "...we will be celebrating with a little party. Nothing fancy, mind you..."

The crowd broke into excited jitters, voices whispering here and that. Ike watched, interested but removed, as Mario grinned at the electricity running through the crowd.

"Quiet. It won't be anything special, as I mentioned. Just a party for all of us here, starting at eight. Of course, visitors - approved visitors - are allowed."

And with that, moustache positively brimming with excitement, he turned and quit the stage with such an air of grace one would almost wonder how he hadn't snaked his way into the likes of politics.

Ike observed this with a slight smirk on his face. Better to die a poor, honest man than a slimy rich one.

As the Brothers dispersed, whispers of both excitement and resolved sighs, Ike let them flow around him, like a fork in a river, eyes scanning the crowd for his oh so majestic prince.

He caught sight of his friend talking animatedly with a young black haired boy, who was nodding encouragingly and pulling things out of his pockets to show Marth as he marveled over them. Ike grinned, unsurprised by Marth's awe. He himself was a little harder to impress.

But as he waited for them to finish, Ike watched Marth, studying him more closely than he had before. The prince was clean, impeccably dressed, suave and handsome as a prince was supposed to be. His face was young and seemingly impressionable, but something in the lines of his face seemed to suggest to Ike a hardness about him. There was a shrewdness in his gaze, a calculation in his face, without one trace of naivety. And Ike could respect that. For one so young, so inexperienced, Marth seemed to know quite a lot about people, and even more so about what he wanted, what he believed, and what he had to do to achieve those things.

Purpose and confidence seemed to exude from the prince like light from the sun, warming those around him with comfort and stability. Ike didn't know how real it was, how long it would last, but sometimes, he knew, it was just nice to pretend. Destiny seemed to be written for Marth, or perhaps the prince was playing her hands, telling her when and what to write as she stared awestruck at his charm. Regardless, the fate and power this boy - young, impressionable man - carried seemed beyond his years, almost beyond his abilities. He was so inexperienced! He didn't even know how the world worked! And, even if he did, or thought he did, he had never been in it, never fought for his life on a field while he lay dying, never saw his friends' heads slashed off cruelly before his wide eyes, never struggled so hard for something he could never attain.

Sourly, Ike regarded Marth as he smiled and nodded. Young and excited, young and impressionable. Growing up a prince left quite a stain, or lack thereof, hadn't it? Whatever destiny this boy seemed meant for, none of it was going to be easy.

Ike sighed at his own bitterness. It wasn't Marth's fault he'd grown the way he did. He still understood the world was cruel, without having had the world be cruel to him. Wasn't that the mark of an intelligent mind? But, Ike thought, the saltiness returning to his thoughts, understanding was a million lives away from knowing.

Quietly, quickly, Ike closed his eyes and said a small prayer for the boy. Whatever gods or goddesses could hear, he hoped Marth wouldn't be hurt too badly.

Because the boy was good. He was innocent. Don't ruin it too much. Stop taking the good away from the world.

Marth noticed him far away, looking resigned, removed, and slightly sad. Concerned, he called to him, and Ike met his gaze, smiled, face instantly clearing. He joined him, and Marth said goodbye to Red, the boy with the outlandish animals, and the two chatted back to their room, laughing and carrying on as though they'd been brothers their whole lives.

-Break here cause this editing suuuccckkksss sorry for 4th wall break-

Everything was different in the mansion tonight.

Maybe it was the fact that Mario had randomly decided to throw a dance, as he called it. And everybody seemed excited. But, why?

Maybe it was that even though Mario ran such a tight fist, he seemed to come clean, friendly, and a pretty great dancer when such events occurred. And nobody begrudged him.

Maybe it was that Marth wasn't used to loud music, but he flinched every time he heard the crash of cymbals and the clang of the weirdest looking drums he'd seen, earning a bout of laughter out of Ike each time.

Standing in the corner, acting the part of the wallflower, the prince was content to watch the more - spirited - fighters jerk it out on the dance floor.

Underneath the dim chandelier and laser bursts here and there, bottles swigged, women flung their hair, and men swung their partners around like ropes. Eventually, the crashing and bursting noises ended, and a few Smashers left the floor to refresh themselves.

"Bottoms up," Ike slurred, leaning contentedly on Marth's shoulder. Taking a wine bottle to his lips, he nudged the prince. "Hey, hey, here comes that fine girl! The blonde one, with the...the hips that could lead an army to war...yeah..." He stumbled off, directly past said blonde woman, staggering onto the floor and taking one of the female staff workers, a girl with lovely blue hair, into his arms. She blushed.

Marth nodded politely as Samus approached, and couldn't help but grin at the sweat beading her smooth brow.

She looked him up and down. "What are you lookin' at, boy?"

He smirked. "It's just interesting, isn't it? Mario is like a dictator, yet he still knows how to 'get down', as Ness put it. Strange."

Her green eyes softened. "I know." She sighed, then smiled too. "A little alcohol will do that to you. So...why are you over here, wallflower?"

He chuckled. "Not a huge fan of dancing."

"What, they don't dance like this back in your country?" she teased, body bobbing in time to the music.

"Not exactly." They exchanged grins, Marth suddenly wondering if that warmth that filled his torso was felt by everybody.

"You don't like rock music?" Samus asked, turning her head, her slim jaw and portrait-worthy profile back to the dancers, whom had slowed down with the change of another song. Ike hadn't been exaggerating about the way she moved her hips.

"Is that what all that banging and screaming was?" Marth answered, partly surprised and partly curious, but mostly embarrassed.

Sensing his confusion, the green-eyed beauty took him by the hand and led him to the floor.

Warmth, filling his tummy like the finest wine. Blossoming like a sunburst.

"Now, I know we barely know each other," she said, placing his hands around her lower back and in her other hand, as if it meant nothing, "and this will be one of the few times we can talk so casually..." she adjusted his hand, placing her on his shoulder, "and we're both probably drunk as hell, so just remember:" she finally met his eyes, "I wish you luck. I think you're going to be something goddamn special. Don't ruin this for us, Prince. We need a man like you."

The music swelled, and suddenly they were off, and Marth felt his heart begin to return to its normal rhythm. He knew how to dance like this. They did all the time in Altea, with the formal lords and ladies, with stupid, air-headed girls, puppets really, dolls for their fathers and nothing more. But Samus was a warrior. She was smiling softly. She was occasionally glancing from her flushed cheeks, from under her fluttering eyelashes into his blue eyes. She giggled quietly as he spun her around, and grew slightly amazed, eyes wide as Marth felt the music sweep to his feet, pull him forward like a commander, a master.

And, as soon as it began, it was over - Samus was out of his arms, those green eyes burning into his, pressing into his memory until his heart felt it would pump so fast it would stop, like a rabbit or a deer. What - wait - this wasn't the mansion he knew. What was going on?

He looked around, stumbling on the floor, catching a glimpse of Peach pressed against Ike, Mario dancing nearby and merely laughing! There was that beautiful princess, eyes like a goddess and wiser than the sages, laughing brilliantly with the racer and the angel - Pit, right? - both of them seemingly mesmerized at her sun's awe! Was that Link toasting to the fox and his bird friend?

"...strange," Marth murmured, standing stunned in the middle of the floor as all types of creatures swayed in and out of his vision.

Something like dancing can bring people together? Surely this isn't what Sheik...Sheik...

A pair of bright ruby eyes.

Marth gasped, but it was nothing but a blink of his eyes. How many drinks had he had? It hadn't been that many...speaking of drinks...

He turned, feeling as though the world had slowed down, grabbed a bottle out of Lucas's hand - wait, a kid? Okay, he shrugged - and poured the sourness down his throat. He smiled as he gulped, feeling the warmth spreading through his tummy. More, more, and -

- Break -

It was a dream. It was a dream. But you need not forget the little talks. Even dictators are human. Everybody has something in common. But one moment of freedom cannot buy a lifetime...

"Gah!" Marth yelped, flying up from whatever he was lying on, a bed? and then the pain rushed to his head like sand dumped from a bowl.

"Gods of fire," he moaned, putting his hands to his head, lying back down, trying to sort out his thoughts from the pain.

"Keep it quiet, will you?" Ike grumbled, "my head feels like it's being smashed by bloody bricks."

Marth ignored him. "What happened last night?"

Ike gave him the death glare from underneath the pillows on top of his head. "A party. Never had them in Altea? Us peasants knew how to live life. Drink, dance. But this...was futuristic. It was fantastic. I've never been to something like that..." Seemingly worn out by all his talking, Ike trailed off and recovered his face with pillows.

Slowly stretching out his aching muscles, Marth pulled his body off the bed with quite a lot of difficulty. Damn, why did he drink that much? He'd had drinking sickness before in Altea, but his father made him swear off the stuff. The sweet, warming stuff...warming...Samus...Samus!

"What?" Ike shouted half-heartedly at Marth's blurting of her name.

"Nothing," he mumbled back, pulling a comfortable pair of trousers and thin tunic onto his body. "Want anything from the kitchen?"

"Nope," Ike said through heavy breaths, his nose sounding quite a bit like a trumpet.

Assuming most of the Smashers were in bed with the drinking sickness, Marth trod barefoot down the thick plush carpet, through the hall, down the stairs, passed the stained glass windows, pushed his hand on the dining room door -

The sight that greeted his eyes was the last sight he ever expected and ever wanted to see.

a/n: I CANT BELIEVE I UPDATES GUYS

PLEASE GIVE ME ALL THE REVIEWS, I MISSED YOU ALL SO MUCH

-Ace