This feeling of wrongness is an oddity that is shared among many of the Emblems, even Marth, who has arguably been around far longer than any of them. Engaging with someone develops a bond that cannot be replicated easily with the next person who decides to use the ring’s power. But an unbreakable bond is just as dangerous as a weak bond—some stories tell the tale of warriors and Emblems who lost themselves when their partner fell in battle.

Roy knows that. Some tools are only meant to be tools, but the human nature is to love. He can’t think of anyone deliberately trying to avoid becoming friends with the person they’re engaged with. It is also difficult to fight in an army without caring about the people that constitute it. For an Emblem, ignoring their warrior’s feelings and resolve is a tall task; they become one.

Which is why Roy is keenly aware of Diamant’s heart hammering against his ribcage like it wants a way out whenever he brings out the Binding Blade to set a part of the battlefield ablaze. Roy wouldn’t call it nausea, but it’s a near thing—Diamant is doing his best to remain calm and to direct his attack at the exact location it is needed, but the effort that is required looks far too taxing to be healthy.

“The path is secured!”

Diamant wipes the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, and grimaces when the metal of his gauntlet scrapes his skin. There’s only the slightest frown on his face when he looks at his gauntlet and sees that no blood was drawn. He sighs, takes a slow breath, and readjusts his grip on the Binding Blade. His fingers are firm around the sword, but the uneasiness never leaves. Roy should make Diamant disengage for him to regain his composure, but they’re in the middle of the battlefield and a new wave of enemies is rushing them.

So Roy keeps quiet and watches, as Diamant calls forth the fire of the Binding Blade while flinching away from it.

Roy, since he can’t exactly fidget when he’s incorporeal and not touching ground, hovers. Micaiah waves her staff and the bright green light closes most of the cuts on Diamant’s arms and face. She smiles at him and floats away to heal the next person. Diamant lets out a sigh, stares at his left arm for a moment, then pulls down his sleeve.

“What happened to your arm?” Roy asks before he changes his mind.

He’s seen the dark mark running across Diamant’s skin. On hot days, he’s seen the way Diamant purposely rolls up the sleeve of his left forearm just enough to avoid exposing the mark, while the right sleeve goes all the way to his elbow. This is a scar that Diamant isn’t proud of.

Diamant glances at Roy, his face not showing any kind of surprise, though his eyes shine with a glint of resignation—and Roy frowns at the sight.

“Sorry, if you don’t want to answer that’s totally fine,” Roy says. “The… bruise caught my attention a few times before and I got curious.”

He didn’t mean to be so blunt in his question, but if he waited any longer, he would never ask.

“I suppose it’d be impossible to hide anything from an Emblem who has lived with us for so long,” Diamant says, smiling.

Roy’s lips tug upwards at Diamant’s casual tone, but his stomach twists into knots. Even if Brodia’s royal family has protected Roy’s ring for decades, Roy doesn’t personally know them. He recognizes them through their aura, he can sense the purpose that runs deep in their blood, but he has started to get to know them only these past few months.

Getting to know someone and fully trusting them takes a long time. However, Roy won’t deny that a special bond is keeping them together, like they are truly destined to fight alongside each other.

“You know that as an Emblem, I can feel what you are feeling when you use my ring,” Roy tells Diamant. “So. It seems that you’re not entirely comfortable. Uh.”

Roy falters, bringing up a hand to rub the back of his neck. Now that he’s actually broached the subject, the words are failing him and he thinks that it might not have been the wisest decision. Diamant clearly doesn’t want people to notice the scar on his arm for some reason, and Roy, even as his partner in battle, can’t just demand an explanation.

The knots in his stomach transform into a heavy weight as he realizes that even though their bond is steady and strong, if Diamant is always on the verge of passing out when he’s using the Binding Blade, then maybe they’re not that compatible after all.

“What I’m trying to say is that… you look more bothered about your arm when you’re wielding my weapons. Specifically the Binding Blade, so maybe don’t force yourself to use it…?”

"Roy.” Diamant lifts up a hand and that effectively makes Roy stop rambling. “You don’t have to worry so much. I’m not angry or upset you asked that question.”

Diamant cradles his arm closer to his torso, like he is trying to protect it a little while longer. That doesn’t make Roy feel any better.

“I think I’m simply self-conscious about this injury,” Diamant continues. “I’ve had it for a long time now, but it is evidence that I’m not as flawless as people think me to be.”

“Is that… truly a bad thing?” Roy asks, frowning.

Diamant sighs. “I suppose not. But most days, it is difficult to remember that those close to me won’t think any less of me because of one injury that I sustained years ago.”

Diamant tries too hard to act and stand like the formidable, unwavering prince who does nothing but train to protect his kingdom. These are qualities that befit princes, without a doubt, but the pressure he’s putting on himself is going to crush him one day. Roy would know.

When Roy looks at Diamant, he sees a friend before a prince, but people have often told him that his dislike for rank doesn’t necessarily reflect well on everyone—some nobles think him impertinent, commoners find him out of touch with reality. He and Diamant aren’t as close as he’d like them to be; sharing a similar status is clearly not synonymous with sharing the same values and priorities. Roy isn’t sure how his words would help Diamant, a man who has built around himself a barrier of forced self-confidence.

“I know soldiers who are proud to show off their scars,” Roy offers instead.

“A lot of warriors in Brodia are the same,” Diamant answers. “I’m not ashamed of my scar, but every day I am reminded of my weakness.”

“You’re not weak.” Roy’s reply flies out of his mouth before he can even think it.

Diamant casts him a small smile, certainly to show he appreciates the comment but he’s not believing it yet. He extends his arm, then slowly unclasps hi armbrace one belt at a time before rolling up the sleeve of his shirt.

The scar is no bigger than the width of a small dagger, located right in the middle of Diamant’s forearm. The passing of time made it dark red, almost brown. It’s obvious healers concentrated their efforts on treating it, but the attack must have been of incredible force if it left such a mark even years later.

Roy glances at Diamant, looks at the scar, then at Diamant again. He’s seen this kind of mark before, during his battles against dragons.

“Did someone burn you?”

“No, not exactly,” Diamant says, looking down at his arm, and Roy feels a weight lift off his chest. “It was an accident. When I was younger, I was training with fire magic and got careless.” Diamant looks back at Roy. “Ever since I got that injury, I’ve been afraid of magic, and specifically of fire magic. It sounds kind of silly when I tell you that, right?”

“From the looks of it, it was a very powerful spell. Dragon fire leaves similar marks if it’s not treated properly, and getting injured is never a good memory.”

It was hard at first to understand how dragon magic worked and how to efficiently heal the burns, which resulted in many soldiers going home with scars. Roy wishes that they could have done more for these soldiers.

“Is that why you’re hiding the scar? The memory of the accident must have been terrible.”

“It’s not entirely because of the memory itself. I’m… truly afraid of fire magic. I’m not exaggerating when I say this is my weakness.”

A hot wave of determination overwhelms Roy in a snap, and he takes a step forward, gesturing wildly at Diamant’s arm.

“You can’t say that, Diamant. You say you’re afraid of magic but you’re still fighting in the war and holding your own against mages! I’m not calling that weak.”

He’s spent so long being attuned to Diamant’s feelings during battle—his desire to protect, his quick thinking when in a tough spot, his ability to always summon the right weapon at the right moment. Roy remembers most of his past wielders, who were always invigorated with the knowledge of being able to use a fire-based sword. Just like Diamant, they were all courageous and headstrong in their own way; they all went to the front lines with the reassurance they were accompanied by an Emblem.

This is Roy’s role. He’s an Emblem giving strength to his wielders and turning the tide of a battle, but he is first and foremost a support for these warriors.

“If anything, if you’re always afraid when you’re using the Binding Blade but still succeed in winning a battle, then you’re one of the bravest people I’ve met.”

Diamant is staring at him with disbelief, mouth hanging open. It’s not fitting of a prince at all. If Roy still had a corporeal body, he’d be shaking Diamant’s shoulders with both hands and try to physically shove those words into his skull. Roy himself has been called stubborn and blind to his own behavior, and without the help of his companions, he’d still be an awkward ball of nerves unable to stand his ground.

“I hope you know how much strength it takes to fight while scared,” Roy finishes in a low voice.

Just as it suddenly overtook him, the burst of energy vanishes right as the last word leaves Roy’s lips.

Silence falls between them, stretching long enough for it to become uneasy. But Roy doesn’t regret his words nor does he wish this conversation turned out differently. He crosses his arms over his chest, attempting to hide his urge to fidget under that tense atmosphere. Even after a year of working on his body language, controlling his nervous habits remains the most difficulty task.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Diamant lowers his arm and directs his eyes at the scar instead. His face doesn’t betray much; he seems to have retreated into his own mind.

“That injury will most likely never properly heal,” Diamant remarks, pensive. “I’ll bear it all my life.”

“It is most likely, yes,” Roy replies, thinking about the scars that Dieck and Garret can’t hide and have accepted as part of themselves.

“I try to be the perfect prince that Brodia needs. I’ve always thought that if people saw this scar, they would think I wasn’t worthy of the title of heir because I had a clear disadvantage against mages. Brodia is a kingdom of hardened warriors, after all.”

Then Diamant lifts his eyes, and something much more appeased settles on his face.

“But no warrior is infallible.”

Roy grins. “That’s right. And no heir is alone in their journey to become the ruler they want to be. Asking for help isn’t a weakness either.”

“I suppose an Emblem would know that better than anyone else.”

“The others also faced similar struggles, talking to them would be very insightful. I learned a lot from them.”

Even before getting acquainted with a younger Aunt Lyn, Roy befriended Marth and Ike; two heroes whose legends apparently crossed time and dimensions. They might not have led the same kind of campaign or lived the same experiences, but from one general to another, they had many pointers and ideas to exchange—and Roy is always eager to learn more about battle tactics. He’s had longer discussions about doing what is right and how to rebuild a nation with Lucina, though. And Micaiah knows a thing or two about different peoples learning to coexist.

Diamant nods, and he rolls his sleeve back down to cover his arm.

“I’ll probably talk to Alcryst first, if the opportunity arises. He’s always saying he’s weaker than me and is nowhere near my level. He’s wrong, of course.”

Alcryst could also use a pep talk, Roy thinks.

“Alcryst will be surprised to learn his brother isn’t as indestructible as he imagines, but not in a bad way,” Roy says, then pauses. Backtracks immediately. “I mean, it’s not good you’re not indestructible! But you’re not a superhuman, that’s what I want to say!”

“I know what you mean,” Diamant laughs.

There’s no doubt Diamant never imagined that Brodia’s precious ring would house someone who still stumbles over his words. Roy groans.

“You see, I might have been the general of my country’s army, but I can’t even hold a conversation without making a fool of myself.”

“Well, I’d say the majority of the conversations I’ve had with you were reasonable,” Diamant indicates with a hint of teasing.

“Speaking in clear sentences is still something I’m working on…”

“Then let’s do our best, shall we? You’re working on your speech, I’m working on my fear of fire magic. We can achieve our respective goal together.”

It’s always reassuring, in a way, to see that rulers weren’t born perfect—all of them had to struggle and to work hard to erase as many of their visible flaws as possible, without stripping themselves of their humanity.

Roy lifts a hand and summons the Binding Blade in a flash of light. Diamant blinks at it.

“I’ll teach you how to protect yourself from the fire of the sword and how to face fire attacks,” Roy says. “It won’t be as thorough a training as the ones you’re used to, but I hope it will help.”

The corner of Diamant’s lips curls upwards. He extends his hand, palm up, and Roy deposits the Binding Blade on it. The sword takes on brighter colors upon the contact.

“I’d be honored to have you as a teacher, Roy.”

“And in exchange you can give me some tips about speaking with absolute confidence.”

“That sounds like a honest deal.”