My Sins Won't Leave Me

-Three-

Author's Notes: This chapter caused much turmoil for me because I am not one for writing weddings and I knew nothing about coronations, but I was told, basically, to just "make shit up" and so that is what I did. Shit made no sense, of course, so thank God for my lovely beta Xirysa for making this readable.

The sun was high up in the sky today, with warm weather and light blue skies above. Though many were relieved to see the warm, beautiful weather as a sign from the heavens that the war was finally over, Marth was not able to rejoice with them. He smiled and celebrated with them, of course, because he was expected to, but deep down there were too many emotions welled up inside, many of which he couldn't even name.

Marth managed to eventually escape the festivities and find a quiet area not too far away from the camp, yet not too close so as to be disturbed. He had a lot on his mind and he needed to prioritize it. He found a felled tree and sat on it, careful to avoid splinters since it looked particularly old.

It's over, he thought. It's finally over.

His hand went to a pendant hanging from a chain around his neck and toyed with it absent-mindedly.

Father… Mother… Caeda… You can all rest easy now. I took up arms against our oppressors and won.

"Marth."

Nyna appeared from behind a group of trees, her skirts hiked up enough so she wouldn't trip over the tree roots littering the path. She approached him carefully so she wouldn't fall, and Marth stood instinctually.

"Princess…."

Nyna motioned for him to sit as she slowly sat on the rotted log, her skirts arranged around her. He sat back down, but not before moving over, enough so their elbows would no longer be touching. She smiled softly at him.

"You should be celebrating with the others."

Marth focused on his hands. "I met with them before. This celebration is for them, not me." He looked back towards the camp. "I needed some time alone, away from them."

Nyna nodded. "I just wanted to thank you."

He looked at her strangely. "Thank me? For what do you owe me thanks?"

Nyna smiled. "For saving our world, for defeating Medeus, for…so many things, Marth."

Marth shook his head. "I am not the only one you should be thanking, Princess Nyna. I couldn't have done this alone. Many fought by my side… Many also fought by my side and died as well." His voice grew quieter as he realized just what this war had cost him.

"You loved her, didn't you?"

"Loved who?" He shifted on the log—it wasn't very comfortable at all, worse than what he had used during the war. He cleared his throat, unhappy with how his voice was coming out, choked and strained.

"Caeda."

Marth laughed, and though it might have been convincing to Nyna (it certainly looked like she was convinced, or at least confused), it didn't sound real to his ears at all.

"What makes you think—"

He closed his mouth when he saw Nyna's look, a look of such intensity the likes of which he had never seen from the Archanean princess.

"I don't have to think, Marth," she said, and it sounded like she was scolding him. "I know."

Marth didn't want to know how she knew. The fact that she knew at all surprised him.

"If there is something you wish to tell me, feel free to," Nyna said, and the way she spoke reminded him of his mother, how she would speak to him after a nightmare. Marth hesitated.

"…She was the one I most wanted to keep safe. But I failed, and I have lost her forever." He sounded so bitter. "Caeda… Why did you take up arms with a fool like me?" He muttered the last part.

One more injustice to add to my list.

"Marth, it does you no good to blame yourself. Remember Anri and Artemis. We are their descendants; perhaps we were always meant to share their curse as well as their blood."

The curse to never find happiness in love. Marth knew the story well.

"This peace we have attained must be cherished. We made a lot of sacrifices for it." She grasped at his hand, and he flinched. "Let us work together to ensure none must endure a tragedy like ours again."

Work together?

"I'm afraid I don't quite understand what you're getting at."

"I have done a lot of thinking during this past year," Nyna confessed, her gaze elsewhere. "I have been advised to seek a man to marry as soon as possible. Archanea needs a king, after all." She looked to him again.

"Why are you telling me this?"

Nyna still did not look at him.

"You are one of my choices," she said simply. "Should you want to."

My wants have nothing to do with anything.

Marth gently placed a hand on top of hers and smiled softly.

"I would be honored to be your—" He couldn't make himself say the word 'husband'. "—king."

He knew the smile on his face was fake, but when she smiled so genuinely and her eyes lit up, he knew his only option was to go along with it.

oOo

It seems like I just returned here, and now I am leaving again.

Marth was still not one for ships, even for a ride as short as this—Jagen said it would only take a day and a half to reach Archanea at their current speed. He said his goodbyes to Altea once more and watched as it disappeared into the horizon, his heart with it.

In three days' time, he would no longer be the prince of Altea.

When they entered Archanea's main port a day later, there were people on the dock to greet him, each dressed in robes that signified they were of some importance in the court. "Welcome to Archanea, Prince Marth," Boah said, and bowed. The people behind him followed suit.

"If you would follow me, I will lead you to your place of residency until the wedding."

Marth gestured to Jagen behind him. "What about my escort?"

Boah sighed. "You have a lot to learn, Your Highness. We will provide you with escorts if they are needed."

"But—"

"Sire," said Jagen, "do not concern yourself with me. You must do what you have to do."

Marth hesitated a little while longer before reluctantly following Boah, leaving Jagen at the docks.

You have a lot to learn, Your Highness. Boah's words echoed in his mind. A lot to learn.

The palace was huge, but Marth expected this—Archanea was the hub of the entire continent, after all. Though he thought it was quite lovely, with its marble work and the plush runners that seemed to go on and on forever, it felt alien to him. How could he ever consider this 'home'?

There are no tapestries hanging from the walls, Marth thought. It looks as if no one really lives here.

After what seemed to be a labyrinth of staircases and hallways, he was shown into a sparsely decorated room, and the door was closed behind him. It looked like he was in a sitting room of sorts, and upon further examination, he found a door that led into a small bedroom, with just the bare necessities. In the sitting room, in the corner farthest from the bedroom door, was a chair big enough to seat two of him, a table next to that with a large tome on it, and what looked to be a cushioned bench.

"This room is smaller than my sitting room back in Altea," he said. He wasn't expecting an overly extravagant room, either—but for a guest room meant for a foreign dignitary? He expected something a little more impressive, especially since the palace was known for its rather large and expansive rooms. He sat on the chair and glanced at the book on the nearby table.

"'Archanea's Traditions and History'," Marth read, and opened to the first page, where a piece of parchment was folded. He took that out and read it quickly.

"'I thought this might be of use to you.'" It was signed by Nyna, and Marth sighed.

Just because I come from Altea doesn't mean I am completely ignorant of other countries' traditions.

Nevertheless, he noticed certain pages marked by a slim piece of parchment, and decided that those were the relevant traditions needed in order to perform well at the wedding. As he read, he couldn't help but mentally compare everything to Altea's traditions.

oOo

After being in Archanea for two days and burning the midnight oil hunched over books on Archanean tradition and decorum, Marth did not appreciate being awoken at dawn. He wouldn't have minded it so much if it was a familiar face waking him, but he did not know this person at all, and they seemed to be in awe of him.

"Why have you awoken me?"

"Begging your pardon, Prince Marth," the maid said, "but you must be prepared for your wedding."

Marth blinked in confusion. "But why at dawn?"

"It takes hours, Your Highness. We have to start now. Now if you would please get up, Srilu will begin the cleansing process."

The girl, whose name was Amelia, wasn't lying when she said it took hours. First she locked him in the wash room with a girl named Srilu, whose accent was hard to understand at first. He nearly fell into the tub, and when he managed to get half-way in, he realized the water was absolutely freezing. When he questioned why, Srilu said, "Cold water cleanses the body as well as the mind of any impurities."

I can't feel the lower half of my body.

Once he was good as frozen, he was pulled out and given a towel so he could dry himself off. Srilu insisted she do it for him, but Marth was taught that girls should not see boys naked until their wedding night, let alone touch them. She ended up drying the upper half of his body because he "wasn't doing it correctly."

What have I stepped into?

Marth, half naked and with naught but a towel covering him, was confronted by three other girls in his room. Marth, used to dressing himself, was absolutely mortified when the girls insisted he let them dress him, saying, "That is the way things are."

Marth was left by his bed as the girls assembled the pieces of his outfit on his bed, starting with the underclothes. Marth simply closed his eyes and pretended he was back in Altea, back when Merric used to live there with them as a part of his nobility training. Merric was the only one he would let dress him, and he imagined, in his head, that Merric was the one dressing him in article after article of heavy, overly starched clothing.

"Prince Marth, you should open your eyes or you will stumble."

Marth opened his eyes and was led over to a mirror tucked away neatly in the corner of his bedroom.

That looks nothing like me. He looked closely at himself in the mirror. From the neck and up he looked like himself, but below that and it was like looking at a stranger. For one thing, Marth rarely, if ever, wore green, let alone a green tunic such as this. It was certainly fancy looking, with rather ornate filigree, or whatever the clothing equivalent of filigree was, with epaulettes on the shoulders. His trousers and mantle were both white, another colour Marth didn't wear often, not even to Altea's fanciest banquets. Marth noticed one thing missing.

"Where is my diadem?"

One of the girls came forward. "I have it right here, Prince Marth."

He took it from her and placed it on his head. He felt a little more comfortable now that he had something from Altea on him that didn't look foreign. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves and another one of the girls handed him his rapier. He looked at it as if he had never seen one before.

"Your Highness is supposed to wear that."

Marth attached the sheath to the loop on his sword belt and smoothed out his clothes. He could do this.

It wasn't like he really had a say in the matter.

oOo

To Marth, it was all a blur. He remembered the doors to the palace opening and being ushered down the aisle, Merric at his side, looking into the faces of people he didn't really know well, or at all even. He supposed he should have felt nervous—What if I mess something up?—but instead he just went through the motions of everything, just as Boah told him. He took his place at the front of the palace near Boah and watched the back of the mess hall anxiously.

He didn't remember when Nyna entered, but he remembered her walk down the aisle, how calm she looked as Hardin escorted her down.

"Why is Prince Hardin here?" Marth whispered to Merric. "I thought King Aurelis was supposed to escort Princess Nyna?"

"He fell ill," Merric answered, "and sent Prince Hardin instead."

Linde and a few other girls trailed behind her, holding the train of Nyna's dress, dressed in ivory gowns as a contrast to Nyna's light purple. Marth was not surprised at the colour choice since in Archanea it was a sign of royalty, though if she were to get married in Altea, it would have been ivory instead, like her bridesmaids. Even now he compared the two kingdoms. She arrived in front of Boah, right next to Marth, and Hardin next to her. Her bridesmaids stood on her side.

Marth barely remembered anything Boah said. He knew Boah asked who was giving Nyna away, and Hardin spoke up and turned towards him with such a calm look. Marth remembered his eyes, though, and the hurt that burned in them. Hardin took Nyna's wrist then, and said, "I give you this girl, so that she may become your wife and mother of your children." He placed Nyna's hand on top of Marth's open palm.

"I accept."

Boah placed a length of silk cord over their hands and said words in a tongue Marth didn't understand. In fact, there were a lot of things Marth didn't understand, but he responded when he needed to and promised to love Nyna for the rest of their lives before placing the ring on her finger, one of the last symbols that marked her as a married woman, the woman of his choosing, or so the vows went.

Marth almost forgot to kiss his bride, and didn't remember the kiss itself at all. All he remembered was walking out of the mess hall with Nyna on his arm, and two finely dressed men whispered something in his ear before leading him off to a place Marth didn't know at all.

oOo

"Where are you taking me?"

The two men showed him into yet another room, where the same group of girls from before were waiting for him with clothing that looked even more ornate than what he was already wearing.

"You must be dressed for your coronation," was all one man said before they took their leave. Marth sighed and let Srilu and Amelia undress him again.

The minutes ticked by slowly and Marth felt like he was encased in a suit of armor instead of actual clothing. It was heavy and stiff and it had a rather strange smell. His clothes were so heavy, in fact, that his arms felt like they were weighed down by lead blocks. The fabric was definitely expensive, and soft against his skin, and when they presented him to the mirror he looked even less recognizable than he did before.

"My diadem—"

"Forgive me, Your Highness, but you won't need it any longer," said Amelia, who placed the diadem with the rest of his things.

Won't need it? Hearing that caused his heart to plummet into his stomach. But that is all I have left of Altea.

"I understand," Marth said, willing himself to remain calm.

Marriage is about sacrifice, Marth thought. Isn't that what Bishop Boah said? Everything requires sacrifices.

The door opened and one of the men from before was there in the doorway.

"They are ready for you, Prince Marth."

Marth nodded and tried to look happy. The man gestured out into the corridor, and Marth left, but not before looking back at everything that used to be his.

oOo

Marth was not prepared for the long walk to the palace proper, or for the early summer heat, or for there to be so many people waiting for a chance to see their soon-to-be king. Marth felt so awkward in these kinds of clothes, afraid the weight of them would cause him to fall to his knees. He touched the spot on his head where his diadem would normally be and he frowned when he remembered its absence. That was the object that marked him as the prince of Altea, as the son of King Cornelius and Queen Liza, heir apparent to Altea's throne.

He felt like nothing right now. Nothing but a seventeen year old boy in fancy clothing.

Marth was led down a path lined with knights in full regalia, Archanea's citizens behind them clamoring for a peek at their new king. Marth did not look at the citizens nor at the knights—he was more focused on trying to not trip on the heavy robes they dressed him in. The oversized double doors leading into the palace opened and Marth walked up the palace steps, a look of confidence on his face as he focused on each step he made. Bishop Boah was waiting for him a little ways from the dais of the throne.

The beginning of his coronation, like his wedding, was a blur of motions and words and prayers in a language Marth could barely recognize. Boah took the king's crown and said some sort of blessing over it before asking Marth to repeat after him.

"I, Marth, promise and pledge in the sight of the gods and on this crown that I will be the protector and defender of Archanea in all ways useful to her."

Boah placed the crown on Marth's head, and though it was quite heavy, he suffered under its weight in silence.

Father's crown wasn't this heavy. He supposed the weight of the crown was relative to the size of its kingdom.

"Do you promise and pledge on this sword to fight for and protect Archanea and lead her to victory in all her battles?"

"I do." He felt a heavy weight in his hands and saw, upon looking down slightly, that it was a ceremonial sword, one similar to a sword used for knighting ceremonies.

Marth felt them drape a mantle over his shoulders and Boah blessed him by sprinkling some sort of oil on him.

"In the name of the gods, I have crowned you the King of Archanea."

Boah bowed down before Marth, and everyone else in the room did the same.

"Your Imperial Highness's throne awaits…"

Marth walked the remaining distance between the dais and his coronation spot, his body numb as he walked up the steps of the dais and turned around to face Archanea's citizens—his citizens now. He could tell they were applauding, but he couldn't hear their celebration over the pounding of his heart in his ears.

He sat down on the throne at last and as his eyes scanned the crowd, he realized just how out of place he felt.

This is not my kingdom, he thought, as he smiled and waved to his subjects. This is not my home, and yet…

There, towards the back of the crowd, was a flash of blue, and when he focused his eyes he could just make out the familiar, comforting image of a woman.

My dear sister. I must leave Altea in your hands, at least for now.

oOo

Marth was ushered into his bedroom, the one he would now share with his wife, and heard the door click behind him. There were servants there to help him remove his clothes, and Marth, bogged down by exhaustion, gladly let them do all the hard work as they dressed him in his bedclothes. He climbed into bed and the servants closed the canopy of the bed before leaving for the night.

Marth was surprised Nyna was still awake, but she was. He couldn't make out much in the dark, but he was all right with that. He settled under the covers and he felt her move closer to him, one arm draped over his side.

"You do know what has to happen now, don't you?" Nyna whispered.

"Not tonight," Marth murmured, unable to look at her now. "I had a rather exhausting day."

"Marth." Nyna sounded so serious now. "I know you are unaware of Archanea's laws and traditions, and they are probably vastly different from Altea's, but it is the law here."

"What is law here? That I must make love to my wife?" Marth wished he could see her face in the dark. He hated not knowing people's reactions.

"In a word, yes. Otherwise I am still not your wife."

Nyna caressed his face and Marth had to try so very hard to not move away.

"I know this is hard for you, but can you at least try?"

Marth blinked. "I never said anything was difficult for me. I said I was tired."

"Marth." She sounded like she was pleading now. "This is something you must do."

Marth took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. He should have been used to this already, doing things because that was 'just the way things were'. She took the initiative and kissed him, her lips were soft against his.

Like Caeda's, he thought, and that sparked something inside of him. Just like Caeda's.