We meet again, my faithful reader! Glad to see you're still reading! This new one shot will be an angst-shot, however... it has been made (with love XD) for my bestie, Teresap1ss_baby, (for you, broski.)

We'll be taking a trip back to the "Smash Mansion." An oldie, but a goodie.

It's quite a long read this time, so I apologize. Regardless, I hope you enjoy! As always, happy reading!~

~ POV: Marth ~

Clash. Our swords collided, creating a thunderous sound that rang throughout the stage. Link reeled back from his strike as I attempted to counterattack, blocked by his Hylian Shield. Damn his shield, wish I had my Fire Emblem, hah.

I scoffed as Link quickly drew an arrow, my willingness to charge forward until he released, with fast reactions, I leaped above. With my Falchion ready to slash, his shield nearly stopped my blade once more.

"Tch..."

None of my attacks are following through. If I can alter my style by a slight amount, he won't be ready to parry, nor rely on his shield so much. I exhale forcefully, my grasp around the handle tightening. I dash towards him once more, the Hylian Shield held up to my face. Swiftly, I roll behind him and strike his back. He's rendered weak.

I bring my blade behind me, charging for a stronger attack. Link slowly gains balance, nearly stopping my slash, his body is launched across the stage. My breath is heavy as I watch him firmly hang on the ledge, desperately trying to get back on. He just won't give up. Respectable.

The surrounding area tints grey, our eyes collectively dart towards a multi-colored orb as it floats around the air, taunting us both. A gateway to our Final Smashes. I flick my wrist face-up, a holographic image of my face shows up, 2 silhouettes are outlined in blue, yet one remains untouched. If I have 1 stock left, I can freely assume Link is in the same condition.

After a bit of struggle, he's finally able to make it to the ledge. No time is wasted as he throws a peculiar bomb in my direction, causing me to panic and dodge the explosion. An arrow shoots above me, landing directly onto the Smash Ball. The crowd watching us from afar gasps.

"Bullseye!" He exclaims, I nearly scowl.

It's not enough to break it. Maybe, just maybe, if I allow him to strike the orb continuously, I'll steal the last attack needed to unleash my "Final Smash." However, focusing on fighting Link and keeping watch of the Smash Ball will prove difficult. I'll have to be observant of his every move.

In order to agitate Link, or rather, make him panic, I leap far into the air and slash the Smash Ball with grace. His eyes widened, then returned to normal, relieved I didn't break the orb. With a slight flick of my fingers, strands of my hair are moved out of my field of view.

I smirk, "Hero of the Wild, were you nearly scared?" I raise the tip of my blade and point towards his chest, chuckling to myself, "Don't be afraid. What can a measly prince do to you?"

"That's the thing. The fact you're a prince..." He frowns, bringing his shield in front of his body. His feet stand firm as he locks his arms in a defensive stance. "There's plenty of tricks you might have up your sleeve."

"Hah!" A genuine smile spreads across my face, bringing Falchion back down to my side. "You know that so well."

My feet rush towards Link, sword at the ready as I aim to penetrate his arm from the side of his Hylian Shield. As to be expected, he's ready to block my strike. Little does he know, I'm not slashing him head-on. I side-step to his right, twirling around, Falchion in hand and strike his arm, knocking him against Final Destination's cracked walls. He groans as his back slams against the hard surface.

The iridescent Smash Ball floats in front of me. I chuckle underneath my breath, glancing at Link who is still trying to get back up. Grasping the handle with both hands, I plunge Falchion's tip into the colorful orb with full force. It shatters into tiny pieces, floating around my body.

The shards circle themselves around me, causing slight gusts of wind, allowing my tunic and cape to ripple among their windy current. I glance down at myself, a fiery, rainbow aura emanates from every part of my body. Here it is. One chance, one strike. At any moment, I can unleash my Final Smash. Critical Hit.

Link's Master Sword penetrates the stage floor, using its sturdiness to help him stand back upright. Before he can react twice, I raise my sword above my head, dashing forward at light speed. My body comes flying at him, leaving a light-blue trail behind me as I slice through Link, finishing him. A red bar flashes above his head. Multiple small, yellow boxes lined up in 2 rows immediately darken, demonstrating his depletion of health.

After my follow-through strike, Link's body flies out of view, a very familiar beam of light shines through, where he had left off. Maintaining my breath, I exhale heavily until the booming voice of the announcer exclaims, "Game!"

My vision flashes white. After blinking a few times, however, I find myself standing on a large, flat platform surrounded by grass. The infamous Smash logo is carved into the ground, I look around to see many well-known buildings floating on clouds, off in the distance.

Grasping my handle firmly, I leap high into the air, slashing twice, one after another. Landing swiftly on my feet, I cross Falchion in front of my chest, mimicking my counter-ability. The words I know by heart escape my grinning lips, "I cannot afford to lose!"

As if our fight never happened, I see Link out of the corner of my eye, clapping. Sportsmanship is always important when it comes to these types of battles, truth be told. We exchange respectful nods before shaking each other's hand.

"Good game, I'd say." The joy in Link's voice never fails to falter, now does it?

I suppose taking these battles extremely seriously would ruin the fun. We've all been brought to this world through the means of an envelope. Whether we fought in a war or not, the victory is sealed, and this realm... "Smash Brothers..." could possibly be considered a way for us to test our strengths. Find our weaknesses. Put our skills to the test.

Two circular teleporters wait for us, slowly rotating as they pulse through colors of red, orange, yellow, and blue. It's time to go back. We simultaneously step onto our respective platforms, before being teleported back to the infamous mansion. Cheers spread throughout the spectator's lounge once we arrived.

Link's beloved comes rushing from her chair, greeting the hero with such open and loving arms. Such a bright and caring smile... Reminds me of a woman I once knew. Her arms wrap tightly around Link's body as she exclaims, "You did amazing! So close," She glances at me, a cheeky smile spreads across her face, "But wonderful job to you too, Marth!"

I shrug, slightly embarrassed by Zelda's words of praise. "My gratitude. Once again, Link," I hold my hand out for him to shake, "Good game." Before we can properly complete our act of sportsmanship, a sharp elbow nudges into my stomach, making me hunch over and groan.

"Oh sorry...was that too hard...?" A young boy's voice quietly murmurs, his hands are hesitantly held out towards me. I chuckle, looking back up to see a fellow lord. Followed by a few more familiar faces.

Roy's awkward smile beams as he scratches the back of his neck, "Heheh, my bad..."

I shake my head, patting the boy's shoulder. "No worries. You're getting stronger everyday." My elbow jams back into his stomach, a small taste of revenge as Roy nearly reacts the same way I did.

"Alright, alright. No more, you two." Ike's voice chuckles from behind me, pulling me away and pushing Roy back. He separates the two of us, looking back and forth between us before scoffing, "Marth just got out of a fight. He doesn't need another one."

The young red-head rolls his eyes jokingly, swatting Ike's hand away from his shoulder. I, however, don't flinch. His grasp still holds onto my upper arm, and if I'm being honest with myself, I don't want him to let go. My eyes discreetly glance at his hand—such a firm grip... Forget it, he'll have to let go eventually, might as well do it now. I forcefully pry his hand off. Despite me being successful, there was a slight force... pushing back on me... Ah, nevermind.

I clear my throat, catching the attention of the bickering duo as they look back at me. "Night will soon fall, I suppose it's about time we rest." They nod, and the cheerful crowd dies out, followed by a sudden change in emotion. Everyone was now tired. Due to me and Link's battle being the final one for the day, I can safely assume some people were waiting until it was over, rather than paying attention. Oh, but I don't blame them.

The roster of fighters disperse little by little as everyone finds their rooms and goes their separate ways. Ike and I, with our designated rooms being right next to each other, find ourselves walking together. Standing in front of our doors, we say a final "good night" before entering.

The lock clicks behind me as I let out a heavy sigh of relief. The darkness of my room immediately fades away, glowing with light as it composes itself back together. My room shines a soft baby-blue as the empty, dull walls flip over to reveal its true furniture. My bed and table slide in from within the walls, its covers neatly put back into place, just as I had left it.

Emerging from the floor, a black leather armchair is propped near the bed as a small shelf presents itself to me, the bookmark in my novel left exactly where I had stopped reading. A soft smile spreads across my face as I sit down on the armchair, taking the book into my lap. A familiar robotic-voice speaks, "Welcome back. Marth Lowell."

I chuckle, reaching to turn on the lamp resting on my bedside table. The blue lights switch off, leaving the lamp as my only light source. Perfect. The atmosphere that always puts me at ease during my times of reading. I glance up at the ceiling to thank the robotic-voice for setting my room back into place.

You know, for a mansion, it sure is advanced... technology-wise, I mean. Back in Archanea, we never had such a thing. I was told my world seemed to take place in "medieval times," compared to some other fighters. "Modern," is the word they used, I believe.

This mansion has been constantly renovated over time, due to new recruits, needing more rooms—you get the idea. I suppose, within the span of those years, we've also been able to improve our "quality of life," here. It'll take some getting used to, as our new addition of "Ultimate" takes place, bringing light to the new technology we have.

I shake my head, wanting to focus more on my book. Unfortunately, a new thought comes into mind. After all these years, not only have I watched this realm grow, but... in a sense, I've watched Ike do the same. Ever since our first war, we fought side by side with the help of a third friend. My word, how time flies by so fast...

Giving up on reading my story, I close the book and place it back onto the shelf, watching it slide into the wall, leaving no traces behind. Switching off my bedside lamp, the darkness surrounds me once more, sending a slight eerie chill down my spine. I never, truly, have gotten used to the darkness. It always frightens me. Nonetheless, in the end, I must rest.

Once I'm able to finish doing my essential night routine, I collapse onto my bed, yanking the sheets over me as a sigh escapes my lips. I can barely see myself until my eyes adjust to the darkened room. I quietly yawn, stretching my arms out before falling sound asleep.

My vision goes dark. Everything is silent.

Then, out of nowhere, multiple thin strings latch onto my body. They tighten around my arms, glowing a bright red, pulsing in sync with my heartbeat. I can barely move. What is happening...? As I struggle to break free from the ties, I glance down at myself.

My clothes... Why am I wearing my battle attire?

The strings shine brighter, tying around me even tighter. I groan in excruciating pain as my eyelids press against each other, tears form in my eyes—not just from my eyelids but from the strings. Their thin and rough texture is clutched so close to my body, I feel myself nearly go numb.

My eyes dart open when I notice my clothes flash between blue and black. They repeat back and forth until, finally, my attire reverts back to blue. I shudder as a cold breeze presses against me, two firm hands grasp onto my shoulders so suddenly, I scream. A soft laugh, one that sounds too similar to my own, can be heard directly behind me. One hand cups over my mouth, muffling my shrieks of fear as the terrifying stranger reveals themselves, standing in front of me.

The red strings wrapping around my limbs begin and end at their fingertips. The horrifying stranger yanks their clenched fist towards their chest, pulling the strings taut. I yelp in pain, baring my teeth as tears flow from my eyes. Looking up at this torturous person, my heart sinks and stomach endlessly knots.

I'm... looking up at myself... And yet, they aren't me. Everything on my body, from my clothes to my hair are no longer blue, but black. His eyes are the same piercing red on the strings as his vision flashes with grief. He cackles maniacally, his palm partially covering his curled lips. "Look at you... What a poor, foolish prince."

My throat runs dry. I nervously gulp as the strings grow tighter, curling around my arms and legs, wrapping around my stomach—making me gag. I gaze back up at this... darker version of myself, his expression is... insane.

"You're helpless." His dark red irises contract, the tips of his mouth raise as he smiles at me creepily. "Marth Lowell, Marth Lowell... Tsk-Tsk. I don't think you realize," he leans in towards my face, "...how much trouble you've gotten yourself in." I quickly tilt my head away, silently pleading under my shaky breath for this horrible experience to be over. "Very soon..." The darker version of me firmly grabs my chin, turning my face to meet his. "You'll see... just how much chaos I will ensue upon this realm."

His hand tugs towards his chest once more, the strings grow as tight as they possibly can, I scream at the top of my lungs.

I feel so light headed...

Everything is hazy...

"Marth? Marth, are you alright?!"

Who...

"Hey, Marth...! Speak to me!" Ike's voice blares in my ears as he shakes me awake. My eyes dart open in shock, everything about my body is now in a cold sweat. I feel Ike's hands caress my forearms as I gaze up, meeting his worried expression with my clouded eyes.

My body grows limp. I slump against Ike, collapsing into his arms as he catches me unexpectedly. "Marth?! What happened to you?" He carefully lifts me up, resting my head on his shoulder as I sit on his lap. "You're so warm..." The back of his palm presses against my forehead, the cold touch of his skin making me shudder.

"Ike, I—" My breath hitches in my throat. Tears reformed in my eyes as I began to choke on my sobs. "I'm so sorry..." I mumble, helplessly wrapping my arms around Ike's neck. He hesitates, but after a brief moment of silence, he hugs me tightly in return. I feel... safe and protected... in his arms...

Ike rests his head in the crook of my neck as he lets out a soft exhale. I feel him hug me tighter, until he finally speaks, "Are you alright? I...heard screaming from your room and was worried." Pulling me off his chest, he stared at me, fear flushed in his gaze. "You're not hurt, are you?"

I shake my head slowly, forcefully wiping my tears, "No, I'm okay..." My palms grasp at my upper arms, shuddering as I hug myself, Ike's hands reluctantly holding onto my own. "It was most likely a nightmare..."

"Could you tell me about it?" He asked, slight curiosity overcoming him as his eyes widened. My eyes dart away, ashamed, a quiet huff passes through me. I catch a glimpse of Ike's reaction, his face regretful. "Sorry, maybe... not." The tone in his voice sounds apologetic, as if he realized he might've crossed a line.

Embracing me once more, Ike holds me close, "You sure you're alright?" I nod, embarrassment washes over my shoulders. Was I truly that loud to the point Ike could hear me? Through the walls, even... Despite it being a mere nightmare, I can't get over whoever that... person... was. If recalled correctly, they were an exact replica of me, but everything blue, darkened into black.

...And their chilling, cold stare. Pure red eyes, not an ounce of mercy in them.

I shudder, hiding my face on Ike's shoulder. My hands grip his back so firmly, I can't bear to let go—I don't want to let go. A heavy breath escapes my quaking lips, Ike's arms holding me secure. He softly pats my back, soothing my nerves—calming me down. "It was horrible..." My voice trembles, biting my bottom lip.

"I get it, Marth." Ike sighs, wiping away a tear, touching my cheek softly with his thumb, "Don't scar yourself anymore. At least it isn't reality."

"Oh, but it will be..."

~ ~ ~

Rays of soft sunlight beam through the gap in my window blinds, shining onto my eyes as I awake. Drowsy and still tired, I glance to my left, noticing my blanket crumpled and folded over—leaving an empty spot on the left side of my bed. Did someone...sleep with me?

Then I remember. Right... Ike came into my room last night, consoling me over a random nightmare. A chill runs down my spine, merely from remembering what happened. And yet, I can still recall the way Ike acted... Caring and gentle, keeping me warm and safe in his arms. I nearly hugged myself, wishing I could relive that same warmth.

Snapping my thoughts back to reality, I go through my usual morning routine. Once done and over with, I leave my designated room, hearing the quiet "whirring" sounds of the furniture hiding itself—from behind the closed door. The muffled robotic-voice speaks, "Good luck in your battles today. Marth Lowell." I nod in appreciation, despite the voice not being able to see me.

Morning breakfast rolls through quickly, many fighters are back in high spirits for the new upcoming battles of the day. The large, lively crowd gathers near the entrance of the spectator's lounge, examining the holographic screens with excitement.

Names and faces of champions slowly begin to pour into the database, displaying the upcoming matches.

Match No.1 - Pikmin & Olimar VS King Dedede

Match No. 2 - Captain Falcon VS Peach

As the names continue to display, I eagerly wait for mine to appear. And...to my "luck," after a few minutes, my name finally shows up. Unfortunately, the majority of the crowd has disappeared and collected into the lounge.

Match No. 41 - Marth VS Palutena

The last match...again. I glance around me, the green-haired goddess approaches the holograph with graceful struts. Palutena smiles, then gazes back at me. Holding her hand out for me to shake, she chuckles, "I look forward to our match, Hero-King." With a simple nod in agreement, we exchange joyful expressions before walking into the spectator's lounge.

~ ~ ~

Match No. 39 - Sheik VS Ness

"Game!"

The wide televised screen that covers the whole wall flashes white, a red silhouette of Earth fades onto the screen before revealing Ness, who happily skips onto the solid platform engraved with the Smash symbol. A proud smile is worn upon his face as he nods, hands balled into a fist as they press against his pants. With one simple nod, Ness' name flashes onto the screen, alongside the announcer's voice, "Ness... Wins!"

Soon after, the recent competitors are teleported back, nodding in gratuity to one another as a sign of peace between them. The large screen shrouds in white once more, "Match No. 40 - Joker VS Ike"

A red symbol of the Phantom Thieves comes flying in from the left, clashing and bumping into a blue symbol of a sword for Fire Emblem. Behind them, two stiff images of Joker and Ike are charging at each other. The announcer's voice exclaims, "Now traveling to Town and City."

"Waiting for contestants to enter..."

Getting up from their chairs, Ike and Joker nod to each other before stepping onto the teleporters. Joker makes it onto the stage first, jumping down from Futaba's persona; Necronomicon—landing on his feet, quickly fixing his gloves as he stands upright. Soon after, Ike is summoned from a golden circle, slashing Ragnell once to dramatize his entrance.

~ Brief POV Change: Ike ~

Staring at the infamous thief standing before me, we wait for the announcer to start us off.

"3... 2... 1... Go!"

The two of us rush towards one another, my sword at the ready, Joker's hand gripping onto his dagger tightly. Unfortunately, before I can make the first move, he grabs my collar, slamming me onto the ground as he strikes an elegant pose. Trying to dodge his follow-up attack for the combo, the messy-haired thief performs a corkscrew, flying kick, launching me further into the air. I wait for his final chain attack, the grappling hook clasping onto my cape, dragging me back down to the stage floor.

This kid's combos...are definitely a threat to me.

My body flings towards the edge of the stage. I pierce Ragnell's tip into the floor, stopping me mid-flight as I grasp the handle firmly. Once I regain balance, Joker and I share a smug smirk as I wipe dirt off my cheek with the back of my hand. "You've got real skill, Akiren." I chuckle, "But I'm not dead yet."

He rolls his eyes, pulling out his gun, pointing it directly at me. With a quiet scoff, he replies, "That was a warm-up, Ike. It's showtime."

I forcefully pull Ragnell out of the ground, charging at Akiren again. In an attempt to hit him with my fast dash attack's strike, he barely budges as a blue aura of fire circles around his feet. Hand held up to his mask, Joker laughs, "Not yet!"—before the flames immediately burst outward. With quick reactions, I counter his passive attack, launching the boy off stage and onto the ledge.

Without hesitation, he lunges his body back up and past the edge, maintaining his balance once stepping foot back onto the stage. Necronomicon, as well as Futaba Sakura, hover out in the distance behind Akiren. Her voice can be faintly heard, "Joker, you took a severe hit just from Ike's counter! This guy's no joke when he attacks."

Akiren glances over his shoulder, "Percent check, Oracle?"

"15%. Now stop talking to me and focus on the battle!"

I chuckle, bringing Ragnell to my side, "You don't have to bother checking your wrist, eh?" I flip my palm over, showing it off to Joker as a holographic image of my face appears three times. Next to the three-stock diagram is my damage percentage. 26%.

He shakes his head, "No need. Anyway, where were we?"

Our blades clash against each other, Joker's free hand whips out his gun once more, aiming for my forehead. Tilting my head to the side quickly, the golden bullet whizzes past my head, a short "Zip" sound flies by. With my force still pushing onto his dagger, Akiren swiftly rolls behind me, catching me off guard as I stumble forward.

The sound of his charging attack begins. As I'm about to face him and prepare my counter, he quickly releases his strike, slashing at my shoulder blades, launching me off-stage. To ensure my safety on coming back, I toss Ragnell near the ledge, using my body strength to propel myself in the same direction. My open palm reaches out as I slowly get closer to the golden blade. "Aether!" My hand firmly wraps around the handle as I grab hold of the ledge.

~ POV: Marth ~

As the match continues on, I find myself sitting closer and closer to the edge of my seat. After a few more minutes, the two contestants are on their final stocks. Joker briskly hops off his respawn platform, attacking Ike from above as he swipes his dagger in the form of a half-moon. I chuckle, his attack reminds me of my own.

The two are still battling it out until, after what feels like forever, a familiar figure appears behind Joker's body. The young boy's mask disappears slowly as a blue aura burns it off his face. His voice echoes throughout the lounge, "Arséne!"

Ike chuckles, pointing the tip of his blade to the—now powerful—persona user. "There's Lupin!" He scoffs through smirking lips, "I was beginning to think he wouldn't show."

Resuming their fight, with Arséne at Joker's side, the fight is as good as won. For a stylish finish, a meteor smash involving the thief's dagger and the persona's sharp pointed heels, Ike was forcefully sent downward—a bright beam of light replacing where he had been spiked.

As per usual... the announcer's voice exclaims, "Game!"

The screen is slashed twice, representing the infamous Smash symbol as the logo of the Phantom Thieves appears in the main centerpoint. Strutting in from the right, Joker glances at Morgana—who is bouncing up and down with glee. The "frizzy-haired" thief gestures to the cat-like creature before running endlessly around the victory platform.

Without wasting time, the two are teleported back into the lounge, laughing with each other—clearly entertained from the fight they went through. With a pat on the back and a firm handshake, it makes me realize they're closer than I originally thought. Nonetheless, the crowd congratulates the opponents.

"Now traveling to Skyworld, Omega Form."

As Palutena gets up from her couch, she smiles before elegantly sitting herself onto the teleporter, legs crossed. "Good luck, Marth." I nod, grabbing my sheath that was resting against my chair, stepping onto the vibrant colored teleport next to hers. "You too."

~ POV Change: Third Person ~

Making her grand entrance from the right side of the stage, a set of golden doors swing open; emitting a bright shining light as the goddess, Palutena, walks out. Staff and shield at the ready, she awaits her opponent to appear.

To the left of her, a golden circle with peculiar symbols laid across its entirety fade onto the stage floor, Marth twirls mid-air as he unsheathes his sword, bringing it down to his side as he lands on his feet—facing the goddess before him.

The countdown begins. As the booming words, "Go!" are declared, Palutena makes her first move. The azure-colored orb at the tip of her staff points towards Marth, a large circular ball of Explosive Flame appears. Tracing his steps backwards, the prince manages to dodge the attack before charging head-on towards the goddess.

Sword at the ready, Marth reels his arm behind him, mimicking his "Shield Breaker" move. Warping further away, Palutena disappears, then reappears a couple feet from Marth's pierce. The tip of his blade nearly cuts a piece of fabric from the goddess' dress as she dramatically gasps.

Hand pressed to her chest, she allows the staff to float momentarily next to her as she scoffs, "This fabric is expensive!"

Marth shrugs, "You're a goddess. Mere scratches on your dress won't be a problem." He strikes the ethereal woman once more, the attack blocked by her sturdy shield. With one brisk follow-up, pearly-white wings grow from Palutena's back as she flaps them forward with force, sending the prince flying.

Shoes digging into the stage, the soft-yellow paint of the stage smears, revealing where Marth's boots had marked. Hunched over, his hand roughly grips Falchion's handle, while his other is leaning atop the firm surface of Skyworld.

For a moment, the prince's ears ring loudly. Panicked, he glances around, everything slows down then comes to an abrupt stop. It's as if the world has come to a halt, with the exception of himself.

A familiar cold breeze washes against his back, he shudders. A dark, smoky figure closes in from behind, grasping at Marth's shoulders, the figure chuckles.

"My, my... Look what you've gotten yourself into."

His heart sinks. This voice...it's the exact same as the one in his nightmare.

"Marth Lowell..." The dark replica of the prince gently slides his hands down Marth's arms, grabbing hold of Falchion, "Allow me to help you. This... once." As the dark counterpart edges his fingers closer towards the gleaming blade, he scoffs. "Don't resist it." His body transforms back into smoke, engulfing Marth entirely as the prince's scream of shock and pain is suddenly muffled.

Falling to his knees, Falchion falls onto the floor as Marth breathes heavily and rapidly. Head hung low, he slowly controls his breath, before gently raising his attention upward, glancing back at Palutena—the frozen world coming back to normal. His bright red eyes flash, piercing through the goddess' soul as her eyes widen in fear.

"Accept it."

Freakishly standing back up on his feet, "Dark" Marth picks up Falchion, an insane, wide grin spread from cheek to cheek. He gazes down at his palms, before cackling loudly, "It's been so long...! Finally," Dark Marth's maniacal laughter sends shivers down Palutena's spine. "He's no longer in my way."

Dark Marth flickers away, his body invisible to the naked eye, reappearing so suddenly behind the goddess, frightening her—barely able to block the surprise strike. She stumbles backwards, falling onto her arms, barely holding her weight.

Twirling his sword downward, the tip of Marth's blade glimmers in the light. With both hands grasping the handle, the dark counterpart is preparing to pierce through the woman. Cowering in fear, Palutena hovers her arm over her face. She shivers, mumbling under her breath, "You monster..."

Dark Marth's eyes widen, flashing a soft blue as Marth's soothing—yet terrified—voice speaks, "Palutena...!" Falchion struggles to inch closer to the goddess' flesh as the prince fights over control of his body. With a raspy, urgent voice, he manages to cry out, "You have to leave!"

Without hesitation, Palutena nods, swiftly gesturing her hand in the air. No time is wasted as the respawn platform appears, the goddess immediately flies on top.

Vibrant red and mysterious black take over as Dark Marth reaches out, blade in his other hand—rushing towards the teleporter to prevent Palutena from escaping. Marth protests, staggering his dark counterpart's actions as the two fight for control. With enough time to stall, Palutena is able to make it back safely into the spectator's lounge.

Fighters assist her up on her feet, her legs trembling in fear from what she experienced first-hand. Arms draped around their necks, her loyal angels carry her to the open couch. She collapses into the cushion, her face pale in fear. Glancing at the screen, Palutena exclaims, "That wasn't Marth... I've never seen a fighter like him."

Peering over his shoulder to the goddess, Ike's eyes narrow as he directs his attention back to the wide screen. The sight of seeing his beloved prince in trouble stirs up an impulsive feeling within him.

The surrounding area of the stage fades to black, the flooring of Skyworld cannot be found anywhere. Everything is shrouded in darkness. A sickly feeling passes through Marth's body as he feels a sense of relief. Had Dark Marth finally left him alone?

Before he could answer his own question, a bright red line stretches forward, latching onto his body, curling around his limbs. This experience feels all-too-familiar. Marth panics, aggressively wriggling his body out of the strings' wraps.

His eyes follow the beginning and end of the strings as Dark Marth's body comes into view, revealing himself.

From the spectator's lounge, gasps of fear bounce off one fighter to the next.

Strings tied securely around his fingers and palm, Dark Marth chuckles, "I thought I told you to accept my control..." Clenching his fist, he yanks his hand behind him, the strings are pulled taut. "Not to defy it."

With a hoarse throat, Marth yells back in return, "I refuse!" Falchion in hand, the prince twists his wrist, the blade slashing through the strings securing his arm in place. With free movement, he then continues to slice, eventually breaking himself free. Getting off his knees, Marth locks his grip around the brown, leather handle. "You shall not...control me!"

"If you must act continuously stubborn, then so be it," Dark Marth cackles behind his palm, "Let's dance, Hero-King."

Hands firmly holding the handle, Marth slightly tilts Falchion's tip forward as he prepares himself in a starting stance. The neon-red strings disappear as Dark Marth holds his open palm out to the side. Almost immediately, an exact copy of Falchion flies in from the empty abyss. Its blade glows red as the handle is now made of black metal, rather than gold.

Marth's heart drops. Glancing down at his own sword, he's frightened—not only due to his dark replica's mere existence, but how the same can be true for his own weapon. Everything had been altered into a darker, mysterious matter.

Body flickering away, performing this act once again, Dark Marth reappears in front of Marth. The vibrant blade nearly slashes through the prince's body, luckily able to block the strike. Fighting for dominance, the two princes struggle to push their weapons against each other; powers equally matched. With enough force, they follow through with their swings—both princes are sent far backwards, boots scraping against the pitch-black floor.

In the spectator's lounge, Ike is off his chair and onto his feet. His eyes stare deeply at the screen, his heart faltering as he watches Marth continue to fight. Deep down, he knows this battle won't end well. Not for his Marth, at least...

As the fight continues on, over time, the blue-haired prince loses stamina. Fatigue gradually overcomes him; his breath heavier, his legs trembling, his arms aching.

Slash after slash, Dark Marth is relentless as Marth cannot keep up. Eventually, the neon-red Falchion swipes cleanly through the prince's tunic. The sharpened edge reaches his flesh as Marth cries out in pain, desperately clutching his chest.

Through a husky breath, Ike grabs Ragnell. Walking towards the teleporter, Dark Pit calls out from behind, "What are you doing?!"

The mercenary pauses, turning on his heel to face the collective, worried crowd of fighters. He grasps the golden blade tighter. "We hesitate, Marth might end up dead." Nearly plunging his sword into the floor, Ike catches himself, changing the position of Ragnell to rest on his shoulders. "If no one's bothering to help him, then I will."

Despite some fighters' protests and worried pleas, Ike refused to listen. Stepping onto the teleport, the mercenary shuts his eyes, silently hoping for Marth's survival to come out on top.

There's an eerie silence that immediately gets disrupted by the clashing of swords and Dark Marth's maniacal laughter. As Ike emerges from the golden, shining circle, he slashes the air with Ragnell, exclaiming his entrance. This manages to distract the dark prince's attention for a brief moment.

With a wide grin, he chuckles, "Well, well... What do we have here?" His body disappears suddenly, nowhere in sight.

The mercenary's eyes dart towards the weakened Hero-King. Legs numb, arms weak, covered in cuts and patches of blood. Marth wearily glances up at Ike, tears streaming down his face. The crimson liquid seeps from his cut through the chest, coughing harshly.

Rushing to his side, Ike drops Ragnell next to him as he kneels down on Marth's level. Hands cradling the prince's face, his lip quivers as he gently lifts the shorter man's head up. Their eyes meet. Gazing into the same clouded, teary eyes he saw last night, Ike's heart softens. "...What has he done to you?"

Unable to respond, Marth bites his bottom lip as he shakes Ike's hands away. Stabbing Falchion into the ground, the prince reluctantly uses its weight to help him stand up. Worried, the mercenary grabs hold of his own sword. One arm wraps around Marth's waist as he helps keep him sustained. The two bluenettes glance around the endless, dark abyss. Dark Marth is nowhere to be found. With a sigh of relief, Ike pulls Marth closer to his body, not daring to let go.

Sensing danger immediately, the weakened prince yells, "Behind...!"

Whipping his body around, Marth still secured within his arm, the dark prince rushes in. Blocking his strike, Ike uses his free arm to force back Dark Marth, sending his body a few feet backwards. Trying to pull the prince's slump body upwards to gain a better grasp, the taller male lifts Marth up from under his arms.

Accepting Ike's help, the shorter male wraps one arm on the mercenary's back. His other free hand raises Falchion higher. Despite his dry throat, Marth points his blade at Dark Marth. The evil prince scowls, baring his teeth as he rushes towards the duo once more.

Sword crossed against his chest, Dark Marth's second hand reaches out, the vibrant red strings are securely tied around his fingers, shooting out as they aim to separate the swordsmen.

Swinging their blades in unison, Marth slashes at the strings coming in from their left, Ike mirrors these actions; striking through the strings stretching out from their right.

Through heavy panting, the prince's body grows weaker, his legs barely holding his own weight. Glancing up at the taller male, their eyes meet. "Ike... I don't know how much longer I can fight..."

Not willing to give up, the mercenary shakes his head furiously, yet worriedly. "Don't say that, Marth." Five pairs of strings come flying forward, Ike tightly holds onto Marth as he slashes through all ten. Dark Marth attacks from their side, being blocked by the navy-haired male once again. "Stay strong for me. Only a little longer..."

"Do you... promise...?"

The swordsmen share a long, loving stare. The dark replica charges head-on, one hand reeled behind his head, prepared to pierce through the pair. His other, intertwined with red strings as they suddenly grow in width—now becoming rope.

Eyes still locked together, Ike and Marth cross their blades. Ragnell and Falchion form an "X" shape as Dark Marth's sword comes into contact with their own. The dark prince's eyes widen as he realizes his mistake, his heart sinking to the bottom.

With a warm smile, Ike mutters under his breath, "I promise."

A glare of blue fire and a streak of neon-blue emanate from the bluenette's swords. In unison, the two push against Dark Marth's attack.

Counter.

Soon enough, the dark replica's body is sent flying far away, out of sight. A bright beam of red and black light shines through; the evil prince's existence is no longer a reality. The pitch-black abyss fades away, revealing the duo to be standing on Battlefield.

Sighs of relief and victorious cries are let out in the spectator's lounge.

Back on stage, their cheers can be faintly heard in the distance.

"Marth, Marth, Marth!"

The setting sun's appearance greatly calms the duo as they gaze out into the distant horizon.

"We like Ike!"

No victory fanfare is heard. The announcer does not say his famous, "Game!" Fighters in the spectator's lounge are celebrating, thankful.

A soft breeze drifts through the air.

Then suddenly, Marth's body gives out.

~ A Day Later ~

Waking on a soft mattress, Marth's eyes drowsily open. The first thing he notices are the white bandages wrapped around his upper body. Hesitant, he touches the wrapping gently, whimpering quietly as his chest injury can still be easily felt.

"Marth, you're alright...!"

Bursting through the door, Ike comes rushing in. Without hesitation, his arms surround Marth's body as he embraces him carefully, trying to avoid causing him any pain whatsoever. He laughs weakly, pulling away from the prince to gaze at his beloved's face. Small, noticeable tears form within his eyelids as he holds Marth's face lovingly in his palms.

Gently holding onto the mercenary, the prince grasps onto his wrist, smiling sweetly in return as he chuckles through tears of joy. "I'm sorry..." Marth's eyebrows ruefully furrow upward as he bites down on his lip. "I'm sorry for the trouble I caused you..."

Ike shakes his head, a bright smile still worn on his face as his hands are still cupped around the shorter male's cheeks. "You don't have to apologize, Marth."

No second is wasted as the mercenary blissfully kisses the prince, setting Marth's heart aflutter as his eyes gently close. They share a moment of peace, until breaking apart, softly laughing with each other in relief.