Okay, for lack of anything better to do, I watched the movie: "Treasure Planet" and it inspired me somehow to write this one-shot.
Guy: Why must it be about me?
Matthew: Why not?
FireEdge: Whatever. You fitted the description… sorta. And I wanted to show the other side of you, the non-goofy one.
Guy: … That's good right?
FireEdge: Yes, it's good. But anyway, all I write is strictly imaginary. I don't really know anything about Guy's father, and I've gotten all of his supports and none mentioned him, so I'll go by what I've learned in his supports with Rath. Oh yeah, spoilers for Rath/Guy C Support Conversation.
Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem or Treasure Planet which I only mentioned in my A/N.
Guy wandered the battlefield, not realizing that he wasn't paying attention to his surroundings in the forest. His mind was deep in thought, deep in memories of his past. At a glance, you'd think he was a happy, even goofy, young man who hailed from the plains. But it was all a guise to hind his sorrow. People often wondered why he, one of the Kutolah didn't wield a bow or ride a horse, like his other fellow tribesmen. He said that he wasn't good with the bow, that horses didn't like him.
It was all a lie. Except that Sacaeans don't lie. He strictly followed that code of honour, but how could he admit what happened? It was too painful for him to tell to anyone. He could still remember what happened, even now…
The ten year-old boy sat outside on the doorstep of his ger. The late-afternoon breeze gently caressed his tanned face and blew his bangs this way and that. His braid whipped about his back and soon settled on his shoulder. The light reflected in the youth's bright blue-green eyes, as he sat alert and waiting.
Soon, in the distance, he could see the one he was awaiting.
"Father!" Guy called out, picking up his short bow from beside him.
"Ah, have you been practising, Guy?" his father asked, one of his hands ruffling Guy's hair. The young boy nodded excitedly, his braid bouncing up and down.
"Yes! Let me show you how good I am now!" he cried. His father nodded and followed the active boy as he ran to the archery range where their tribe practised.
Setting up a target, Guy then positioned himself with the bow. He carefully took aim and let the taunt bowstring go loose. With a 'whooshing' sound, the arrow planted itself into the target; right in the centre.
His father smiled.
"Good job, Guy. You'll make a fine hunter one day." The compliment made Guy beam with pride.
"Thank you, Father! I'll make you proud! One day, I'm going to be just like you!"
His father still smiled wordlessly. Giving the boy's shoulder a squeeze, he slowly walked back towards their ger.
Guy's head cocked to one side, a little confused, but he shrugged and also started after his father.
Inside the ger, his mother was cooking their supper. Carefully leaning his bow by the door, Guy started to set the table. His mother was silently stirring the pot on the stove. His father was nowhere in sight. He was most likely in the bedroom.
As he lay the dishes upon the table, he wondered why his household was always so quiet. He had noticed that his mother and father rarely spoke to one another anymore, and that, when they did, their voices were always strained and sometimes rose to yells.
But he never asked why they argued. It wasn't in his place to ask. He knew that they would only say he was too young, that it was none of his concern. Still, sometimes he couldn't help but wonder.
Soon they were all seated at the table. Their supper was eaten in silence. No one said anything, they just stared at their plates. Looking up from under his bangs, he could see the sadness on his mother's face. She was deep in thought about something. His father's was made of stone. The youth could not read his father's expressions, try as he might.
As he scooped the last of the rice into his mouth, he stood up and quietly excused himself. Setting his plate in the wash basin, he took his bow and stepped outside into the chill night air.
Closing the door behind him, he heard his parents start to talk. They had just been waiting for him to leave. Biting his bottom lip, his feet crunched upon the grass as he once again headed for the shooting range. When he was troubled, practising always made him feel better.
As he aimed and shot at the target, he wasn't aware of someone perched in a nearby tree, watching him. The young man looked to be around sixteen or seventeen years of age. His long green hair was covered by an orange bandanna, and his bangs fell over narrow eyes.
He wasn't expecting anyone to be out here tonight, but he guessed he didn't mind the young boy practising, even though he had planned to spend his last night alone. He was to leave the tribe tomorrow morning, according to their elder. Dayan didn't want him to leave, but he didn't have too much of a choice. His father couldn't look weak in front of the others. This was his destiny.
Returning his attention to the boy, he studied his fellow tribesman. He was a young boy with dark green hair that was tied into a braid. He had a strong arm for one his age and was shooting the arrows perfectly. But something about his stature told him that something was distracting the other boy.
Suddenly the boy stopped shooting. His arm was probably numb by now from the cold. A moment later, the boy left, his head down.
It's none of my business… He thought to himself as the boy entered a nearby ger. A few minutes later, he closed his eyes and dozed off. He wanted to spend the rest of his night underneath the stars of the plains.
Guy stepped back inside the ger, shivering from the cold. The candles were still lit, but the ger was quiet. His parent's must already be asleep. Setting his bow down, he walked to his room. Pulling off his headband and undoing his braid. He untied the sash about his waist and he sunk into his bed, instantly falling asleep.
The next morning, Guy shot up in his bed. It was very early and the sun had only started to show on the horizon outside his window. However, there was something in the air. Something was wrong…Something bad was happening.
Throwing aside his blankets, he jumped out of his bed, not bothering to put his boots on. Quickly taking his sash, he wrapped it around his waist as he ran out into the kitchen area of his house.
His mother sat silently, sobbing into her hands. Guy's eyes widened. Through the window, he could see his father walking, a pack slung across his back. He paled as he ran to the door. Flinging it open, he ran outside, his feet crushing the dew-covered grass.
"Father!" He called after the man, but the other ignored him. He just kept on walking towards his horse.
"Father!" Guy yelled again, desperately running to catch up to him. But his bare feet slipped on the slick grass and he sprawled on the ground.
Getting on his hands and knees, he looked up. His father swung onto his horse's back. Pushing himself off the ground, he ran over to his father. But just as he approached and opened his mouth to speak, the other man kicked the horse in the sides and it trotted off.
Desperate, Guy ran after him, but to no avail. He approached the enclosure with the rest of the horses, catching on to one of the wooden posts as his father rode on to the horizon.
He stared as the form of the horsemen faded into the distance. Guy sank to his knees, his arm sliding down the post. The morning wind blew his unkept hair around his face, tears streaming down his cheeks. He sat there, not caring as others of his tribe came out from the commotion he had caused.
Guy felt a hand on his shoulder. Looking up he could see the chief looking somberly at him. Even Dayan had known what was going on before he did. Only now did he find out. His father had once, perhaps, loved his mother. But he left now. To where? Who knew? He should've known something was amiss when his parents had stopped talking to one another, when the fights got more frequent. But he was too naïve. He refused to believe that his parents just weren't in love anymore.
Shrugging the chief's hand of his shoulder, he walked sadly to his ger. His mother was no longer in the kitchen. He could hear her sobs from her bedroom. Going into his, he put on his boots and tied his hair.
About to step out of the door again, he paused. His bow sat there, by the exit. Picking it up, he walked to the practice area once more. Arriving there, he notched an arrow onto the short bow, taking aim. But his arms shook furiously and his vision blurred with tears.
He lowered the short bow, his mind reeling. I want to be just like you! His words to his father echoed in his mind. No… He didn't want to be just like his father. His father left him and his mother. Left them to be by themselves.
His grip on his bow tightened until his knuckles were white. He wasn't going to be like his father. He didn't want to be one bit like his father! No. Not anymore.
The bow snapped in his palm. His hand loosened and the two pieces fell onto the ground. His father used the bow. He would not. Guy, of the Kutolah would never lay a hand on another bow again! He knew that he had to master some sort of weapon to be of any use to his tribe…
He would follow the path of the sword, he decided. His father never used swords. He said that they were too slow and were of no use in hunting. He would be the opposite of his father. He'd show him that the sword was not useless. He'd prove that his father was the useless one!
He looked up from the ground. A determined light shone in his once sober eyes. He would be Warrior Guy, of the Kutolah tribe. Master Swordsman.
Guy looked up as he tripped over the root of a tree, snapped away from his memories. Turning his head about, he realized that he was lost.
"Where… is this place?" he murmured, his eyes widening. His fear of being separated from the rest of the army made him panicky. "I'm lost out here! What'll I do if I can't find the rest of the troops?" Whenever he was panicky he had a tendency to be a klutz, ditzy even. You'd say he was a complete idiot. And last but not least…
"Ah, but I'm hungry!" As he continued to walk forward, he was unaware of a shadowy figure behind him.
Rath stared at the myrmidon. He was a curious fellow, wandering aimlessly. The young man had gotten himself lost and could do nothing but go into a frenzy.
Guy whipped around as he heard the snap of a twig.
"Wah!" He gave a cry of alarm. Seeing Rath standing there silently, Guy took a step back, not sure if this man was an enemy or not. Suddenly he noticed the markings on the horseman's clothing. "Say, you look like you come from Sacae…" Rath stared at the boy. He looked familiar.
"… What's your name?"
Guy perked up at the question.
"Warrior Guy, of the Kutolah tribe!" He proclaimed, holding his head up proudly.
Rath was taken aback slightly. He wasn't expecting to encounter one of his tribesmen.
"The Kutolah?" he murmured, more to himself than anyone.
"Yes! One of the three tribes of Sacae! Led by the Silver Wolf, Lord Dayan himself!" said Guy, the pride never fading from his voice.
The nomad's brain worked to try and remember whom this myrmidon was.
"… I'm Rath," he finally replied, still trying hard to recall if he'd met the myrmidon before. There was just something very familiar about him...
Guy's brow furrowed.
"Rath? Say, Rath… you… you aren't Kutolah, too, are you?"
Rath didn't answer. He remembered who this boy was now. Five years ago, he had seen this same boy practising with the bow. Yet… he now had a sword by his side. Not a bow could be seen in sight.
Taking the nomad's silence as confusion, Guy explained what he had meant.
"Our chieftain had a son named Rath, you see. He left the tribe when I was young, so I don't know how he looked like…"
"Eh?" Guy asked in surprise.
"You're lost, aren't you? … Follow me."
"You'll help me? Really? For free?" The young man asked incredulously.
"How could I leave a fellow tribesman?"
"Th-That's very kind of you. Y-You're very, very nice! It makes me proud to be a man of Sacae! Say, Rath, I won't forget this!" He grinned rather goofily. But underneath it all, he was reminded of his father. This young man was just as stoic as he had been.
Yes, I'm proud to be a Sacaean... But I'm not proud of my father. I won't use the bow…I won't…
Yes, I'm proud to be a Sacaean... But I'm not proud of my father. I won't use the bow…I won't…
Rath tugged on his horse's reins. Not looking back to see if the other followed, he continued on his way. But Rath still wondered why he had given up on the bow. He had been very skilled with it, yet he had chosen to start over with the sword.
Suddenly something flashed in the nomad's mind.
It was the morning of the day he was leaving the tribe. He dropped from his perch in the tree and landed lightly onto the ground. As he started for his father's ger, his foot stepped upon something. Stepping back, he looked at the ground. There, cast aside was a bow, snapped in half. Leaning down, he picked up the two pieces. A short bow. It was the one he had seen that boy use last night… Looking up, he stared at the ger he had seen the boy enter before. He could just see the door closing. Why the boy had cast aside such a fine bow was beyond his understanding. It was none of his business, anyway, he told him himself. Standing up, he dropped the remnants of the bow to the ground and strode away.
It was the morning of the day he was leaving the tribe. He dropped from his perch in the tree and landed lightly onto the ground. As he started for his father's ger, his foot stepped upon something. Stepping back, he looked at the ground. There, cast aside was a bow, snapped in half.
Leaning down, he picked up the two pieces. A short bow. It was the one he had seen that boy use last night… Looking up, he stared at the ger he had seen the boy enter before. He could just see the door closing.
Why the boy had cast aside such a fine bow was beyond his understanding. It was none of his business, anyway, he told him himself. Standing up, he dropped the remnants of the bow to the ground and strode away.
Rath fingered the short bow in his hands, reminded of that day. That broken bow… It was Guy's.
Why that bow had been snapped in half or why Guy now wielded a sword. It was all a mystery. None of my business, none of my business. He told himself again. Rath knew he was being too curious.
Turning around for the first time, he saw a strange expression on the myrmidon's face.
Though Guy tried his best to deny it, he knew that, deep down inside, he was just like that broken bow…
Guy: … … …
Matthew: It's best not to ask…
Guy: I know…
FireEdge: Hehehe… Yeah, don't you love it when the goofy guys are really all sad deep down inside?
FireEdge: Okay, so it wasn't as angsty as I wanted it to be. But it was a spur of the moment idea inspired by a DISNEY MOVIE! Figure out the rest…
Matthew: Okay, whatever. Please R&R. No flames. Constructive criticism is welcomed.