Again, large walls of text do not a fanfic make.

"Life would be boring without you, Kieran."

I leaned forward to watch them, inhaling deep the musky scent of my palomino's mane. Rolf had insisted upon naming her Lille for her sweet nature, and since I generally had neither the imagination nor the inclination to name my horses, I'd had no objections. Despite myself, I smiled at the memory of Boyd teasing our younger brother. "Oh, a new sweetheart? Next you'll be naming horses after Mist!" And so began yet another epic battle of insults that only Mist herself had been able to stop.

The clang of weapons striking one another drew me out of my reverie, and my eye was automatically caught by the sun gleaming off red hair. "Look - you're naturally the weakest when facing an enemy similar to yourself," Titania was explaining patiently, parrying with no apparent effort even as she spoke. "It's the same for everyone. See?"

"Never!" replied her opponent, panting. "In honor I am bound to defeat all who try to match me!" Kieran spurred his horse forward and swung mightily; his axe was knocked from his nerveless hand by one skillful blow. He glared down at it for a moment, as if the axe itself had caused his failure, then good-naturedly leapt from his horse to retrieve the fallen weapon. "How is it that you anticipate my every move?"

Titania laughed gently, shaking her head as he vaulted back onto his stallion. "Kieran, you and I both trained in the same army, under the same commander. Surely you must expect that Geoffrey taught us similar tactics?"

Perhaps the thought had not occurred to him yet. Even from a distance, I could see the longing in his eyes to start sparring again, yet it was tempered by confusion. "Well..." he said, brows furrowed. "Perhaps it is merely that you fight with honor, as do I." His chin lifted once more, and his proud expression reappeared. I knew that Kieran wasn't entirely stupid: he knew perfectly well (I had heard him admit it to Geoffrey, once) that Titania was the most skilled of Crimea's many knights. Yet I (and everyone) also knew that his pride would be wounded to admit it, even when she was currently his deputy commander. For anyone with such an overdeveloped sense of honor, could one expect anything different? "Yes, honor is the difference between us." He twirled his axe menacingly, a look of fervent glee coming over his face. "Those ruffians I fight in the name of the princess won't stand a chance! Come, let's fight again!"

Titania was clearly torn between a sigh and laughter; I myself had to smother an outburst of mirth. Kieran was an excellent addition to the Greil Mercenaries - probably the one person who would never betray Ike as long as he protected Princess Elincia - but he would never really fit in anywhere except the Royal Knights. "All right," she said, and I couldn't help but adore her patience. "Just don't get exasperated when I keep defeating you, Kieran. Predictability is your biggest weak--"

"Ha!" he cried, hearing only the first two words that she had spoken. "Soon you will see, Dame Knight, your valorous opponent's skill!"

I shook my head and gently spurred Lille, turning her to return to the base and patting her neck soothingly. Amusing as this was - and it genuinely was one of the most entertainingly spectacles I'd seen for some time - it was time for me to 'help' Mist cook dinner. I could only hope that she hadn't tried to start without me. Dearly as I loved Mist, her enthusiasm for cooking was only matched by her lack of skill in that same area.

There were obvious disadvantages to being on the move, particularly in terms of camping out in the open. But the one advantage, I reflected as I reclosed the flap to my tent, was how private the utter darkness was. There had been little privacy (though, in truth, little need for it) at the base where Greil and Titania had directed us from many months before. One could always expect to stumble across someone, especially Soren, wandering about in the late hours of the night, and Greil had always kept every hallway lit with torches, in case of surprise attacks.

But here, in the wilderness of Begnion, I could easily make my way to another mercenary's tent with no fear of being seen. Lethe and Mordecai, the only members of our party who would have been able to see me on this clouded night, were scouting ahead, at Ike's command. No thoughts of being discovered caused my hand to tremble as I quietly pulled aside the canvas of the tent, slipping inside.

One could hardly say it was darker inside than out, but I felt somehow safer once ensconced in the warm blackness of another beorc's living quarters. I lay down next to him, placing an arm around his waist; he didn't even budge, his breathing regular and deep. One thing about Kieran's life I couldn't criticize: after spending every day training until he was practically sweating blood (or fighting until he was covered in it) he always slept soundly at night.

I took his ear in my teeth and lightly bit it; finally he awoke, thrashing upright in his charmingly boyish way. "What...? Stand, villain!"

"It's me," I said softly, hoping he wouldn't wake up the entire camp before he realized who I was. I put a hand on his shoulder, adding, "Be calm."

"Oh, it's you, my friend," he answered, dropping his voice dramatically and lying back down beside me. I could picture his grin in my head as he whispered, "I feared you had given me up."

"Never," I answered, and kissed him briefly. "Only a dishonorable villain would have such thoughts."

"Even so am I," he answered, pulling me to him with surprising gentleness. "Tell me..." he hesitated, then plunged ahead, "how is it that you keep up with our mercenary band? Are you of information?"

I stifled a laugh. Somehow, several encounters ago, he had managed to convince himself that I was someone outside Ike's mercenaries: a straggler from Crimea, or even a lone Begnion senator. Nothing so risky as a runaway Daein soldier, of course: that would strain the bounds of honor. Either way, I hadn't yet bothered to correct the impression. It would take some care, to reveal to him that his midnight cuddler was also his sworn lifelong rival and fellow mercenary. "I suppose I am. Though it would not matter. Your troops have not been moving quickly as of late."

"Tis truth," he declared, and upon realizing how loud he had spoken, laughed and laid his head atop mine. "When will you tell me your identity, secret friend? It pains me to think that I may be loving one who would be denied me in daylight hours."

This time I couldn't help it; I buried my face in his bare chest and laughed until tears came to my eyes. "By the goddess, Kieran, do you think I would meet you only at night if I could do so any other time? Your sense of honor is far too strong for your tastes in love: it would have you spurn half those who would make you the happiest!" I lifted my head and kissed him, more solidly this time.

He broke away, and I wished I could have seen the glare he was surely shooting at me. "Do you mean that... that you are dishonorable? That you would oppose the honor of one of Elincia's Royal Knights? Good sir, if you do-" he thrashed upright once more, but this time tangled in his blanket and my arms "-leave!" With a rather undignified grunt, he threw me off, ostensibly crouching near the back of the tent. I could see him in my mind, bright hair afluff with sleep, every muscle tensed, mobile mouth clenched.

"That's not exactly what I meant," I said, trying to chastise him even as the conjured image stirred heat in me. The hair on his arm stood erect: I could feel each one bristling as I soothingly stroked it. "Be calm. All I meant was that you take honor into account when you do everything. But at night, when you are calmed, tired, you are more willing to accept that others have standards lower than your own..." Oops. I hadn't exactly meant that, either, but it was too late. I went on, "Sometimes what you may think is dishonorable... may merely be uncomfortable."

He was silent for a moment. "Is there really a difference?"

"Of course." I tightened my fingers around his arm, trying to beckon him back. "Recall your deputy commander? She is a stunning woman, a great leader and fighter, and to be smitten with her would be no dishonor. She was even formerly your fellow Knight, a Crimean hero. Yet it would certainly make you uncomfortable, no?"

"Well, naturally!" I could hear the indignation in his voice. "Such an attraction... it's... I would never... Royal Knights do not consort with one another!"

"But with former Royal Knights?" My argument was wearing him down; I could sense it in his silence. He slowly lowered himself to sit beside me again. "Ike seems to be a most forgiving commander, you know. You could just tell him."

There was a breathless pause. "Tell him what?" I had never heard his voice so hesitant, so full of fear. The moment of truth had arrived.

"About Oscar."

I couldn't tell how long the moment lasted, as neither of us spoke. He was frozen beside me, and allowed me to pull him back down next to me. I could practically hear the wheels turn as he thought desperately. I could only hope that I'd played the right card.

Then, finally, somewhere, the sun must have shone through in an unusually brilliant flash of connection. In a soft, almost amused voice: "You... why, you little.. green-haired... dishonorable, villainous dastard." His muscular arms went around me, and exhilaration (as well as relief) flooded my breast.

I kissed him, greedily; his time he answered it fiercely, hips thrusting at mine. "Yes," I gasped as we broke away. "Can you face me in daylight? Can you know me for a lover, and still fight beside me?"

He paused, hands halting in their movement over my body. Then, slyly, "If you fight in the name of Princess Crimea... and prove to be my rival here..." He took my breath away with another kiss. "I can find those terms acceptable."

"For Crimea, then," I said, and drew him to me.