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When she finally wakes up, what Tiki spots first is the face of a friend– or her family, more like– rough, with deep wrinkles, but warm with a smile just for her. Though nightmares still feel as though they’re ready to nip at her heels, with Bantu there, it feels as though she can pry herself free in time (because he promised to protect her; she made him promise, and Ban-Ban would never lie to her).
But as the elder manakete crouches down and pulls Tiki into his arms, her chin rests on his shoulder and she can just barely make out a splash of blue in the endless brown that lies past the folds of Bantu’s hood.
“Ban-Ban,” she whispers into his ear, her arms still thrown around his neck; she cups one hand to the side of his face, and he angles his head so that she can speak more easily. “Who is that?”
Bantu laughs (a deep, rumbling laugh that sounds like home), and one of the arms that had been wrapped around the little princess travels up until his hand rests on her head, patting it gently. She’s not sure what’s so funny, because she hasn’t made any jokes yet and the blue person hasn’t even spoken, but the man seems so pleased that she doesn’t even puff out her cheeks.
“That’s Prince Marth,” he tells her, and immediately, her eyes widen, practically sparkling with awe and curiosity. “Do you remember what I told you, my child?”
“I do,” Tiki breathes, leaning forward to peer past Bantu’s too-big hood, one foot raised in the air to balance herself because she’s a good girl who can do things on her own (though she doesn’t seem to notice the way her caretaker leans back to support the weight she places on his shoulders). Again, Bantu chuckles, but Tiki doesn’t ponder over it this time. No, there are hoods to look around and a prince to see.
And she sees him, that prince with the kind face and the sweet blue eyes– and though Tiki is positive that the light filtering through the fane is dim and that the tiara he wears isn’t reflecting a single thing, she swears that there is a light about him, twinkling brightly.
In times long afterwards, when the baby fat has left her face and Marth is no longer there to hold her hand, Tiki will realize that it was the light of a hope that will carry her always–
But to the Tiki of now, Marth simply looks as though he is glowing, shimmering, shining.
So she totters over to him and calls him Mar-Mar, and though his new moniker takes him by surprise, he does not hesitate to surrender his hand to her when it is time for them to leave the battlefield.
• • •
Tiki attaches herself to Marth swiftly, not quite always at his side, but never farther than ‘nearby’. She may be young for her kind and full of youthful affection, but she is a clever girl with over a thousand years to her name; she understands what grief looks like. She understands, now more than ever, because she can see the shadows it carves into Marth’s face.
But Tiki also knows that when a child is too considerate, the adults just look sadder. It’s silly, really, and she doesn’t understand why, but if it means that she can still ask for some of the young prince’s attention, then she’s happy for it.
“Mar-Mar!” The little princess calls out to the lone figure amongst the trees, and the jewelry about her ankles tinkles as she runs towards him with too-large steps full of enthusiasm. The sound is bright and all the sweeter in the foggy gloom of dusk, and even in the most melancholic of moods, the prince would not have been able to stop himself from turning to greet her.
“Tiki,” Marth replies, and he smiles and the sparkles she is so quickly coming to adore return to him, and Tiki beams back, as if to grin at him with every ounce of her existence. “What is it?”
She sticks her hand directly out in front of her– it is a delicate thing that has not a single scratch on it (not yet), and Marth takes hold of it gently, without question. Again, she beams, her toes stretching as she rocks back onto her heels with a singular pleased giggle.
“You’re sparkly again.” Decisively, she threads her fingers through his own, though her hand is too small to truly grasp his just yet.
“Sparkly?” It is not the most gallant word that has been used to describe him, but Tiki’s phrasing nets her a warm chuckle. “How do you mean?”
“You’re soooo bright!” She exclaims this with a tone vibrant enough to match her words, her free hand thrust into the air above her for emphasis (because she’s not tall enough to emphasize at a normal height, not yet). “It’s not scary to sleep when you’re here. It feels like you’ll just chase all the bad things away!”
“…Even now?” Marth asks, and there is that shadow again– that shadow children aren’t supposed to know how to see.
“Mmm-hmmm,” Tiki hums, hopping just a half-step closer (and her voice is strangely soft, for a child that cannot understand the pain of adults). “Even when you’re sad, Mar-Mar… You’re still bright and full of good things.”
“Is that so?” And though the prince’s speech is the same as it ever was, there is a brightness about his tone once more.
“Yeah!” She rocks on her heels again, still beaming.
“…Thank you, Tiki.“
This time, it is he who swings their conjoined hands, and they return to camp in what would have been silence, had they not been humming the same tune.
• • •
Bantu is warm like a shared blanket at night– comforting, soothing, keeping the monsters at bay– but he does not defeat them, and so when thoughts of ice and loneliness and the whispers of wicked men invade Tiki’s dreams, she flings off her covers and calls–
“Mar-Mar!”
And Marth comes running– not because he is a prince, but because he is a good man, full of the light and kindness and good things that Tiki has always seen, right from the beginning.
It is the first of many nights that she will fall asleep holding his hand, because Marth is warm like the sunlight in springtime– sweet, gentle, full of life and friendship and happiness and all the things she could not have in her slumber– and he does defeat those monsters that plague her unconscious mind. Perhaps they are not wholly defeated, not yet… But with Marth there, she feels as though there will come a day when she will no longer need to fear the terrors in the dark (because he promised to protect her; he promised all on his own, and Mar-Mar would never lie to her).