Fan Fiction / Fire Emblem Fan Fiction / Fire Emblem Fan Fiction / Pokemon Fan Fiction / Pokemon Fan Fiction ❯ Empty Hand Loser ❯ tragic hero ( Chapter 3 )

Disclaimer: The following contains characters and concepts that are NOT the property of the author. They are the intellectual property of Nintendo, HAL Laboratories and their associates. The author has received NO monetary benefit from this piece of shit.

Chapter synopsis: A bounty hunter accepts an assignment without pay, and Marth remembers a time when his heart was free.

Warnings: mature themes, violence, offensive language, implied homosexuality, minor bigotry, darkfic (yuri//anti-yuri, yaoi//anti-yaoi).

Status: Uncertain. Revised draft.

A/N: Thanks for reading. Feedback by review or email appreciated.

Tragic Hero

The soft noise of sand grinding beneath heavy shoes distracted Zelda from her music. She lowered the ocarina and slowly rose to her feet. The moon sat low in the sky, barely off the horizon. She watched it, taking a deep breath, then turned around.

It wasn't who she expected.

Falcon nodded at her. "Princess," he offered in way of greeting.

"Captain." She returned his use of the honorific, bowing slightly.

He stepped forward and extended a gloved hand. The princess saw the pale envelope between his fingers. She carefully withdrew it from his hand.

Falcon looked on as she delicately worked the letter open. "If you'd rather be alone…," he said. But she stopped him with a shake of her head.

"Your presence is fine," she assured him. "I may desire your assistance."

Silence lapsed between them as Zelda read the letter, the pendant around her neck letting off a soft light. It wreaked havoc on the night vision tint of his visor, so that Falcon had to switch it off. Behind shaded glasses, Falcon's eyes watched Zelda's expressions, but she revealed little.

"She would have come herself," Falcon was finally able to say, "but some major bounty just made himself available tonight. So she sent word to me."

Zelda nodded. "I understand."

For a moment, neither spoke. Then it was Falcon who breached the silence once more. "Sam's got her hands full these days, Princess. I don't know the details of the assignment, but if there's anything I can do…"

Zelda sighed, eyes closed. "I have not the means to pay you, Captain."

"I know."

In her mind, Zelda remembered the day she had undertaken a trip into the outside world, a day's ride on the skytram, into the heart of the metropolis. "I thought a venture outside would help improve my perspective." She had run into Samus Aran (had sought her out, in fact). They had exchanged promises then.

Zelda reminded herself that it was too early to lose all hope.

* * *

Marth told me how he had found Roy watching an old movie by himself, late one night in the general lounge. He had been sitting on the floor, legs splayed out, leaning back on his elbows. Marth crept up behind him and knelt down to peer over his shoulder. Their eyes met in the reflection on the screen, picked up by ambient light in the otherwise darkened room.

They were watching the dramatized trials of an ill-fated prince in exile. Marth tilted his head to the side in consideration. He said nothing. Roy was the first to speak.

"Your namesake had some bad luck, didn't he?"

"That is what makes a tragic hero."

"So what happened later?" Roy asked, eyes still on the screen. "Do you know? How does the story end?"

"They never finished the series."

Silence settled between them.

"I can see you as him," Roy said after a while.

"Really? I'm not like that at all."

"Maybe not. But you have that air of royalty about you."

Roy repositioned himself, sitting up a little, focused intently on the movie. He took a can of beer off the floor, hooking his arm around a knee while taking a sip. Marth didn't move.

Roy gestured toward the screen with the beer can. "All except for that one part."

"Hm?"

"Him and that girl. You and her would never have gotten along in real life."

Marth smiled. "How do you know?"

"I can tell," Roy said. "And that part about the deer. You know when the king shot it down and told the prince to finish it off, but he couldn't. That's not you either." He glanced back at Marth. "You'd kill it without question."

Marth ducked his head. Roy watched him for a moment before returning his attention to the screen. He leaned back slightly. Their shoulders touched.

Marth watched the movie, but it didn't entirely hold his interest. He'd seen it before. The light of the screen sharpened Roy's profile, and story images were reflected in his eyes. Marth took turns watching these things as much as the movie.

Months later, when he could no longer recognize himself, Marth would remember the comfort of Roy's assertions.

Eyes would follow him through the hallways of the decaying mansion whenever he walked by. They wanted to know what had happened to their cold, sad prince. He had been the master's favorite. But something had gone wrong.

It couldn't have been the rumors that drove Roy to his decision, could it? The house was coming undone, and no one really knew why. As their sullen master, I had grown more and more reclusive. Marth stayed as silent and withdrawn as ever.

When Ganondorf intentionally brushed shoulders with him in passing, one day in the dark corridors, Marth had only uttered a polite apology before moving on.

"Had he cared for you, don't you think he would have stayed?"

At the question, Marth's steps faltered, just for an instant. Pausing, he spared a brief glance over his shoulder. Ganondorf was neither smug nor malicious. For once, he held himself upright with an expression on his face that was almost noble in its calm. The look in his eyes both claimed and denied nothing. He spoke with the voice of someone who knew.

The prince turned away and kept walking. He couldn't see but he could feel the wizard's eyes following his departure.

Unbelievable,I thought when he told me this. Roy had taken something with him when he left.

* * *

Samus Aran secured the motorcycle inside the small garage. She stepped back, her back brushing against the wall in the tight confinement, and lowered the heavy metal door, turning the latch to lock it tight. A heightened awareness she had developed over the years hinted to her that she was being watched. But it wasn't accompanied by a sense of threat. She paused for a moment then turned around cautiously, muscles tensing.

Zelda returned her gaze from across the narrow street. Aran held up a hand in greeting, and Zelda smiled. Hands shoved into the pockets of her black jacket, Samus watched as the other woman approached.

Her coat was lavender and long, nearly concealing the heels of her shoes. Its fur-lined collar parted in the front, showing a glimpse of a pale neck and a jeweled pendant. Her heeled shoes clipped softly against the concrete.

Samus kept a temporary room in the city. It wasn't much, but it was all she had to offer. As she led the princess inside, Samus become aware, not for the first time, that Zelda was of another world. With elfish features and ghostly movements, the princess was out of place here in the slums of the Mutant City. Her hair, long and soft gold, was paler than Aran's had been, before the bounty hunter had decided to experiment with a bottle of black dye bought from the corner store.

Zelda declined the obligatory offer of a drink. She was engaged by the view at the window. It was late afternoon, and the dull sun shone over the grey monuments of the urban metropolis. In the distance, structures on the horizon shimmered in mist like the places of fantasy sims.

"You didn't have to come all this way," Samus said, for lack of anything better to say.

"I thought a venture outside would help improve my perspective," the princess answered. "Sometimes, I rather like being in the world."

The bounty hunter slumped against the wall, pressing her shoulder into it. "Some of us don't have a choice," Aran said. She stood watching the princess, as Zelda took in the streets and buildings outside. Bland light, filtered through smog and clouds, couldn't dull the glimmering in her eyes.

"I had to see," she told Aran, "I had to see the world to which we lose one another."

"What do you see?"

"I've lost." Worry tightened the line of Zelda's mouth.

"I don't think he would leave without intending to come back," Aran said. "I don't think he's capable of that. And anyway, wouldn't you feel it if something were to happen to him? Both of you are bound to each other."

"I used to believe that." Zelda set a hand on the window ledge and gripped it tight. She bore the tension of a drowning victim, but also a passivity that suggested it was not happening without her complicity. Her eyes filled with images of steel and concrete. Machines. "I don't understand this world," she admitted. Then she turned to Samus. "I don't understand it, but you do, bounty hunter."

Aran said nothing. Arms crossed, she stared down at the floorboards. It was a grey day. It was a cold day. No rest for her in sight. And she was tired.

Zelda's hand reached for her, gripping her arm. Aran watched the way fingers in lavender folded and took hold of her sleeve. The weight was lighter than her arm cannon.

"Samus. I need you now. Will you help me?"

Aran managed a crooked smile. She raised her head to meet Zelda's eyes. "I guess I can't refuse."

Relief flickered briefly across Zelda's face. But only briefly. "I will find a way to pay you," she promised, eyes falling.

"Not necessary," Samus replied almost immediately. She was rewarded with a grateful smile. "But I can't promise you anything."

"Also unnecessary," Zelda assured her. "I have faith."

It was the smile (or was it the hold on her arm?) that radiated warmth through her veins, straight to Aran's heart. It was something, or else her pulse would not have quickened.

* * *

They wouldn't speak until the film's ending credits had started scrolling up the screen.

"The deer," Marth had said to Roy, eyes downcast. "I used to have dreams that the deer was really a man. I think in reality it must have been, and they changed that part of the story when they made the movie."

He could feel Roy's gaze, fixed onto him. There was low-toned laughter. Marth looked up.

"That doesn't surprise me," Roy said. He offered a sly grin, which Marth returned with a ghostly smile. "When you dream about something like that, it must be true. No one would imagine it like that in their fantasies, not even in dreams."

That place where their shoulders touched-Marth leaned further into it. He chuckled quietly to himself, head ducked down. "You," he murmured, "have a way with your words."

Roy's breath slid warm on the top of Marth's head, disturbing soft strands of hair. "I don't care about the deer," he said. "Had it been a man, you would have killed him too."