I actually wrote this about just under two weeks ago and thought I'd upload it here. I've already put it on an archive. Sadly, there needs to be more Dragon Quest 8 fanfiction for me to read. Gah. Since I own the US game, dub/US names are used. Well, I'm also on my 2nd playthrough and intend to do the monster arena this time. (How I missed it first time I have no idea.)
Next, I've looked around and I think I can open this thread. If I can't, feel free to move or delete it. Maybe I can try writing for Red next. She was one of my faves. Anyway, the stuff…
Disclaimer: Dragon Quest 8 is not mine.
Spoilers: Marcello and Angelo, mostly. Basically, donâ€t read this unless you really want to or know about their relationship, or lack thereof. It takes place before you reach Maella Abbey. Secondly, this is my first ever Dragon Quest 8 fanfiction. I have completed the game, and I will try to get everyone in character, but if I do something wrong, please politely point it out and I will change it ASAP.
This is a small one-shot based on Marcelloâ€s relationship and feelings towards Angelo.
As the bird flew through the heavens, it glided over fields, rivers, mountains and copious amounts of wagons and people that traversed the roads beneath its wings. Leaving the tall mountains behind, it flew away over the hills, passing over an ancient abbey wrought from stone. This abbey was gleaming in the morning sunlight, its beauty enhanced only by the river that gently wound around its borders and down the valley.
Suddenly, the irate shouting of a man shattered this peace and tranquillity.
â€œI do not care about your reputation, or lack thereof!â€? this man roared. â€œYou are a Templar of the Goddess and shall conduct yourself accordingly! Do I make myself clear, Angelo? Your actions are bringing shame upon us all!â€?
This irate yelling, which had now diminished to an equally irate growl, was interrupted by the sound of playful laughter.
â€œDonâ€t be so melodramatic, brother. People are not so foolish as to judge the Templars upon the actions of one man alone.â€? The second voice paused for a few seconds, pondering something. â€œAt least I hope that are! I mean really â€“ â€?
Rising from his chair, the first man slammed his palms down angrily on the table before him.
No, I should not lose my temper so easilyâ€¦
Realising what he had done, the Templar Captain made do with curling his upper lip back in utter distaste. He would not let this man rile him so! He could not! That would only give his enemy the satisfaction of knowing that he had gotten beneath his skin. Not just that, but also the knowledge that once more he had intruded into his life, where he was not welcome.
Due to this silver-haired devil masquerading as a fun-loving angel, he had lost everything that mattered to him; his home, his life and his mother. If it had not been for this boy, his mother would quite possibly have survived and his life would be different.
Throwing himself back down into his chair, the head of which was engraved with the same crest as his ring, the black-haired man gazed coldly at his younger half-brother. This boy had everything handed to him on a plate, whereas he had been forced to make it on nothing but his own prowess and merit.
This boy had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth and no common sense!
Indeed, he would go so far as to bet that his half-brother had never had to deal with the likes of Rolo.
Rolo was a fat little man wrapped up in a cocoon of smug self-importance and greed. Once he became Lord High Priest (and he would), that squat pig would be the first to go.
The next would be his â€˜dear brotherâ€, Angelo.
In his new order, privilege through birth would be abolished and replaced by a system that was fairer for all. No one should have to suffer the way he had in order to prove oneâ€s worth.
Well, no one except Angelo hereâ€¦
Waving his right hand in a dismissive gesture, the Templar Captain closed his eyes in resignation.
â€œGet out of my sight; I shall deal with you later,â€? he ordered. He had no more desire to remain in Angeloâ€s company.
â€œâ€¦ Just get out.â€?
As Angelo left the room, Marcelloâ€s green eyes watched his half-brother as he left. The door closed shut, leaving him, thankfully, alone once more. His eyes, however, continued to glare daggers at the door through which Angelo had left.
You stupid fool! Do you do this on purpose? Do you enjoy testing me so? Marcello thought. He leaned forward in his chair, rested his chin on his linked hands and continued to gaze at the door. Or do you try me and test me in the hope that you will find your brother?
Marcello stopped thinking, but it did not last for long.
Hah! Youâ€ll have a long wait! Do you even know why I treat you the way I do? Itâ€s simple; you took everything away from me, everything. You ruined my life. I tell you this; your father is no father of mine.
The Templarâ€s eyes narrowed in anger.
No father would treat his son as a spare and cast him aside once something better came along. I tell you this; I am glad your parents died.
Silence descended as Marcello fell quiet. It was as if he was subconsciously challenging himself to explain why he could be so cold-hearted as to wish such misfortune upon his younger sibling. After all, he knew the pain of losing oneâ€s parents, or at least oneâ€s mother.
Perhaps now you will understand what it was like for me.
Marcello stopped thinking. Rising from his chair, he gazed around at what was now his home. The room was quite luxurious, but not overly so; it was suitable for the commander of the Holy Order of the Goddess. However, it was not decadent, unlike some rooms he had seen. A wardrobe stood to the right of the door Angelo had passed through, and to his right against the wall stood several bookshelves. Upon his desk was a copy of the bible, whilst to his left, behind a blue curtain, dwelled his bed: his place of rest.
Closing his eyes, Marcello sighed. His mother had come here, seeking shelter for her and himself, but then she had died. She had gone, just like that. This abbey had been his home and things had started to look bright once again, but then he had arrived.
The young boy, dressed in red and white, had looked so lost and alone.
Feeling compassion, for he had also lost his parents, he had sought to offer this boy a shoulder to cry on. That was when he had learnt the boyâ€s name and his world had crumbled down around him.
Immediately upon learning this boyâ€s true identity, Marcello had closed himself off. That brat could take care of himself!
Something else, though, was eating away at the black-haired captain: Abbot Francisco.
This man had been like a father to him, especially when his mother had died. The Abbot had been kind to him when many others would have shunned him due to his illegitimate background. He had quite possibly found someone he could look up to. A father, if you will.
Then he had arrived; Angelo.
Angelo, Angelo, Angelo. Will I never be free of that cursed name!
Once Angelo had arrived, Abbot Francisco had been left with a new orphan to care for. He had been usurped, again! Why could his half-brother not at least let him have this? The love of one man who was like a parent to him; was that too much to ask for?
Turning to face the window, Marcello gazed out emotionlessly at the rolling valley that lay beyond. Down to his left could be seen the barn, from which they would take grain during the winter.
How does it feel, Angelo?
Marcello smirked. Now, for the first time in his life, he was the one in charge! Angelo had to answer to him and it felt wonderful!
How does it feel to be beneath the one whose life you ruined? Well the boot is on the other foot now, and I am going to make damned sure that I enjoy every minute of it.
If Angelo ever asked him why he treated him the way he did, he had a simple answer.
_Itâ€s quite simple; I want vengeance. You ruined my life and you shall pay for it, one way or another.
I will ruin you the way you ruined my life.
I will destroy you the way our father destroyed mother and I.
In the end, when you can take no more, I will finally find my peace._