Disclaimer: I do not own Super Smash Brothers: Brawl or any of the characters, and this piece of fanfiction is for the sole purpose of entertainment.

Pairing: IkeMarth
Genre: fantasy, dark
Rating: PG-13
Words: 802
Warnings: homosexuality, character death

A/N: SSBBSwords/LilPurplFlwr is seriously my muse. She has the most amazing ideas ever and, since I am a creative desert myself, I'm just constantly stealing all of hers because they inspire me so much. She told me she was writing a fantasy siren AU, and the idea tickled my lady loins so hard that I couldn't help but try my own hand at it. All credit completely goes to her. This is merely fangirling over her ideas once more.

Marth is a siren and Ike his hapless victim. That's really all there is to this ficlet.

Out to Sea

He isn't sure what possesses him to walk outside, but he does, barefoot into the sand in the midday morning sun. The wind blows his bangs across his face, the salt-air stinging his dry eyes, but he barely even notices; all he does notice, with ferocious and surprising singularity, is this sweet push and pull coming from the ocean—as if the waves themselves are crashing against his body, enveloping him in the undercurrent and dragging him forward, deeper out to sea. But he is standing, stock still, in front of the porch of his home.

The strange need draws him towards the waterfront, and he willingly complies, stepping through sand and gravel on his way down the beach slope. He feels melancholic and nostalgic, though for what, he doesn't even know. All he does know is that going to the water will answer that longing; that along the water, he will find the peace for this sudden and overwhelming sense of loss.

And that is when he sees him. The other man is strolling quietly along the edge of the water, the cuffs of his pants rolled up his legs as the sea foam tickles his shins. The wind blows both his hair and his white linen shirt out behind him, billowing like a translucent sail around the sharp angles of his small frame. Ike's chest seizes up with something, something foreign yet wonderful, full of release and tension all at once, and he realizes that this is what he was looking for all along.

The young man turns around to face him, the soft strands of his hair, deep and stunning as the ocean, framing his eyes. They look at each other for the longest moment, and he is riveted in place before the other levies a small smile his way, right arm lifting at a forty-five degree angle with palm proffered, saying come, join me, and it is all that he could ever want. He takes a shaky step forward, his body not quite able to catch up to his eager mind, and walks into the wet sand to join this beautiful stranger.

The water soaks his pant legs, but he doesn't even care. The other man is smiling at him serenely, features so radiant and stunning, and Ike is grasping his slender hand with such haste and need that he's startled the other doesn't fall from the force. Rather, it seems that the smaller man is in fact supporting him, completely and utterly, from the single contact of their wind-kissed palms.

Slowly, the other pulls him along the shore, and he follows blindly; he would follow this man to the end of the earth and back, and surprisingly, the thought doesn't bother him one bit. He trusts the other implicitly. He trusts that the laugh caressing his ears and soul would never lead him astray, because how could he? The other is peace and beauty personified, and he's laughing along with him, not giving a care in the world as they wade further into the waves. The other's shirt now clings transparent and wanton to his torso, outlining the dip of his waist and the curve of his hips, and Ike wants him more than anything he's ever wanted before in his young life.

A cool, wet palm reaches up to stroke his cheek, and the water is divine as is trails down his face, soothing the fire inside of him as they press closely together. And he is kissing the young man, holding him tight lest he disappear—back into the world of dreams and desires, shimmering like a promise across the mirror of the water. And he kisses him until he's breathless, drawing his strength from the soft lips beneath his, from the arms wrapped tenderly around his neck.

He doesn't realize it before it's too late—that in fact, he is breathless, because suddenly they are underwater. He didn't even realize a wave had caught them, but yet here they are, caught in the undertow as the water races past his ears with a thunderous roar. His eyes pop open in shock, and all he can think is that I must save him. So he grabs onto the other's arms, intent on dragging them back up to the air; back to the sun-warmed sand and their forever after.

And that's when he realizes that the other's arms are parallel to his face, those slender, soft hands wrapped tight around his neck in a vice, and he's choking—choking in the fear and desperation that he can't save the other; that they'll be stuck in their watery grave together. But maybe that's okay, he thinks to himself as his vision darkens and his limbs go lax, because he'll be together with the other for all eternity.

-fin-