Freya and Amarant stumbled into one of the many living rooms that Alexandria castle boasted, both on tip toes, making an enormously loud show of being quiet. A floor board creaked beneath Amarant, and Freya spun around quickly to give him an exaggerated 'shhhhh!'. He clamped his hands over his mouth in apology, before sliding over to the couch and collapsing onto it. The clatter of Pluto Knights could be heard from through the French doors which led onto the balcony, and as Freya turned to hear it, her rogue tail knocked a vase off of a pedestal, and she flung herself at the floor to save it, missing completely, wincing at the loud crash. Amarant sat upright, listening intently to the noise outside the door, and he heard a voice say:

"Hey, you hear something?"

There was a pregnant pause in which Amarant and Freya muffled their drunken giggles, eyeing each other hysterically, and then they finally heard:

"Probably just a rat."

At this, Freya sat up on the floor and gasped, thoroughly offended by the harmless comment, assuming, after what seemed like months of travelling round with Amarant, that anyone referring to a rat was obviously talking about her. Amarant pointed to her and said smugly:

"'s what I've been telling you all along Deborah."

"I'm not Deborah! I'm...I'm...RAT," Freya concluded proudly with a nod, which caused her hat to tip below her eyes. "Oh! Amarant! I'm blind! Trusty Chocobo Joe Gin has blinded me!"

She collapsed to the ground, bowing her head in loud sobs, and her hat rolled off her head, freeing her silver waterfall of hair. She sat up once more and, with wide emerald eyes, she exclaimed:

"Oh! Amarant! I'm no longer blind! We should throw a parsnip!"

"Party."

"That's what I said."

The Burmecian pulled herself up beside Amarant on the couch and she pouted with her head cupped in her hands. He prodded her ear, and she flicked his hand away blearily, almost hitting herself in the face in the action. She sighed and said:

"Why did we get sozzled tonight Bob?"

"Because I like Gin, Deborah, and you're mooning over Amnesiac Al."

"Bob, his name is Fratley...For..." A sob erupted from her as the high of the alcohol began to wear off and she sank into the depression. "For...getful Fratley!"

Amarant lazily put an arm around Freya's shoulder, and she wept into him, jewel-like eyes secreting gemstone tears. He traced his hand down her spine and back up, causing her to shiver, and she looked up into his rusty brown eyes beseechingly.

"He said he loved me the other day, Bobarant. But he isn't the man I fell in love with."

"Well..." began Amarant slowly, with an uncharacteristically embarrassed turn of his face. "Who is?"

Their eyes were no more than two inches apart, their heads cocked at convenient angles, and Amarant could feel Freya's tiny, nervous little breaths on his face. With a decisive clench of his fists, Amarant ignored any of his own mental laws regarding taboo and mix of breeds, and he kissed the Burmecian soundly on the lips. She made a few noises at first, which indicated weak protests, but after a few seconds see succumbed to the rare moment of real affection and kissed him back, her delicate hands tight on his shoulder. One of his hands moved up and down her body while the other traced her jaw line carefully. Suddenly, the familiar noise of clanking armour indicated that a friend was close by, and they broke apart abruptly, just in time for Adelbert Steiner to enter, looking around suspiciously. Seeing Freya and Amarant on the sofa, he called downstairs:

"It's only Lady Freya and Amarant!" He turned back to the uncomfortable couple. "The knights heard some noises up here, I apologise for startling you."

Freya got up and retrieved her hat from the floor, obviously flustered, her little hands tightly curled into fists, plonking the conspicuous orange helmet firmly onto her head. She brushed herself down before saying with as much dignity as she could muster:

"Amarant, Steiner. Goodnight."

With that, she left, wobbling slightly as she tried to regain her balance. Steiner's eyebrows had skyrocketed past his hairline as his gaze fell upon Amarant, who had also decided to leave the room, throwing a dirty look at the innocent knight as he sauntered past him. Sitting down beside the fire, Steiner scratched his head and said quietly to himself:

"Why do I get the feeling that I interrupted more than conversation...?" he shook his head and scolded himself. "Lady Freya and Amarant? Nay man. Freya is smart young lady."

The next morning, as the bright light of the morning flooded through the windows, sickeningly bright, Amarant leant, with his arms folded, against the wall next to Freya's room, as he had done almost every morning for a month. It was nearly a week since Zidane had made his fabulously spectacular reappearance, and the mien of the castle had been decidedly cheery. Everyone was still staying in Alexandria, the entire crew, including Mikoto and a handful of spokespeople for the Black Mages.

The Black Mages had benefited infinitely since the Genomes had arrived at the village. The blonde race may have been oblivious to things such as day and night but their technology was supreme, and not only had they made a more effective incubator for the eggs of Bobby Corwen (who had, in fact, turned out to be a female) and created a cooling system for the boiling summers, but they had managed to prolong the stopping for just under the length of an average human's life. It's no surprise that they were going to take over the planet as the supreme race.

Amarant knocked gingerly on the door for the fifth time and, after a long pause, he heard a grumbling noise and the sound of stumbling footsteps. The door opened slowly, and Freya's pretty silver head poked out, emerald green eyes half closed. Amarant quirked an eyebrow at her and said wryly:

"Morning sleeping beauty."

Freya glared at him before flipping him the ever eloquent finger, to which he just grinned. She opened her mouth to speak to him but, instead of her silky, melodic voice, a painful croaking noise streamed out.

"Why are you so damned cheerful Coral?"

"The lack of a hangover always brightens my day," Amarant replied with a smirk, before adding with a charmed grace, "Rat."

"You drank more than I did!"

"Yeah, but you're only as big as one of my arms, and you're so damned delicate. You weren't made for drinking."

"I can out-drink a hundred Burmecian Dragon Knights."

"Yeah, but they're all pansies anyway."

"You were thoroughly drunk yesterday," Freya reminded him bitterly.

"Not as drunk as you," Amarant pointed out with a bark of laughter.

Freya's ears flattened and she put her hands over the with a groan as her head pounded with the vigour of a brass band on parade day. He suppressed his laughing but continued grinning with as little malice as he could. The Burmecian frowned at him before growling:

"Come in then you overgrown beacon."

"Ooh, low blow Rat."

"Give me five minutes."

Amarant stepped into her room and sat down on the bed while Freya flitted about the room, ears turned down slightly, her long nose slightly wrinkled with distaste as she picked up a pair of bright yellow peddle pushers that had found their way into her chest of drawers. As she was about to lift her burgundy nightshirt over her head, she paused and turned to Amarant who was examining her silky velvet teddy bear of a matching colour, and she said meekly:

"Would you quite mind averting your eyes Amarant?"

"Sure thing. Who'd wanna look at your scrawny arse anyway?"

With that, he turned to look at the wall and, quick as a flash, Freya's delicate hands found the hem of her night-shirt and she tugged it over her head, throwing it to the bed beside Amarant who, though his back was to her, felt a familiar stirring in his mind. He pretended to look down at his hands, head at an awkward angle, the way many embarrassed adolescent boys do after discovering females and, at light speed, he threw his eyes over his shoulders, taking a mental photograph of her almost naked form.

He felt a common feeling of sickness, the one he always gleaned from thinking of her the way he did, but also a kind of elation. He knew she was demi-human, but at times like this one he really couldn't give a damn. Not when he thought of the way her spine curved delicately into her tail bone, her long, beautiful neck leading down into her modest breasts, perfectly formed, hardly voluptuous, but perfect, her soft, fabulously curved hips and the gorgeous dusting of silver grey fur which covered her body. He always smiled with mirth at her underwear, however. Over the course of their journey, he had managed to get more than a few sly looks at her body, especially due to the fact that they always shared a tent. The simple slip of cotton was not erotic, it wasn't provocative, it wasn't even skimpy, but he found it one of the biggest turn-ons he had ever witnessed. Her pants were always a simple colour, always briefs, and they reached just below her belly button and hugged her hips lightly. How she managed to make her underwear mature and sexy, Amarant had no idea, but he didn't care either. It did it for him, and that was all that mattered. She was beautiful, but she didn't know it, and Amarant knew nothing more attractive than that.

Freya strapped a bra on and pulled on a black spaghetti strap vest, frowning as she caught a view of herself in the mirror.

"Oh Lord, Amarant," she cried, "I look an absolute fright!"

Amarant closed his eyes with annoyance as he replied:

"Why change the habit of a lifetime?"

He knew this was how he and Freya worked. Throwing insults at each other was just a game now, it was the way they operated. It didn't change the fact that he wanted nothing more than to tell he how beautiful she looked. He almost snorted out loud as he realised what a maudlin sack of crap she'd turned him into.

"Very funny, bloody Rasta-gimp."

She tugged on the pair of jeans Eiko had bought her for her birthday, smiling prettily at them. She had always thought they made her look like a teenager, as they were tight up at her thighs but flared out at the bottom, the current fashion in Lindblum, invented by a woman called Tabitha Jean. Imaginative. She had never had the courage to wear them out in public, but Eiko had asked her how she liked them, and so she felt it was polite to wear them today. She began to run a brush through her hair as she called over her shoulder:

"All right Amarant, you can look now."

He turned 'round and looked at her with a grin. Her silver curtain of hair fell down her back lightly, reaching just below her shoulders, and as she turned her head to look at him, mouth parted slightly in a pout, it swung about her beautiful face. Her evergreen eyes gleamed and she said over to him:

"What time is it anyway?"

Her voice was returning, but it still had a rough edge to it, like an oasis in a desert, soft and light but still coarse and throaty.

"About half ten."

"Not too late then. We only got in a about two."

"Around about that, yeah."

"Talkative, aren't you?"

Amarant answered this with a very well placed '...', to which Freya gave a laugh. She threw the cushion, which sat on the stool before the dresser, at the tall stoic, sticking her tongue out good-naturedly. He simply showed her how many middle fingers he had on his left hand.

"Come on, you fabulous linguist, let's get something to eat."

She led him out of the room, closing the door with her foot, and they walked down the marble steps into the dining room, where everyone was sitting and talking, already finished eating. They all turned to look at them and Garnet got up and took Freya's hand, saying with a giggle:

"Oh, you should have seen Amarant's face when you didn't appear for breakfast! He looked so lost without you there!"

Freya shot a grin at the lone giant, who sent her a deadly glare right back. She went and sat in her normal place at the table, in the middle of Amarant and Eiko, who said loudly:

"See Vivi! I told you she liked her jeans!"

"I...I never said sh-she didn't."

Dagger, who had noted her more casual state of dress, nodded her head with a genuine smile, and she called to her:

"You do look lovely Freya."

Freya smiled and thanked her, before helping herself to a slice of watermelon, which she nibbled delicately on, making small noises of annoyance whenever she bit a seed. Zidane, who was catching up on all he had missed, turned to Freya suddenly and said:

"How's things with you and Fratley then, Freya?"

Everyone went silent and looked straight at her, even the Black Mages who had no idea what a 'Fratley' was. A food maybe? Was she allergic?

"We're...fine," she stated simply.

"Smart-arse chit," Amarant growled at her, almost fondly.

"I really think we're back on track now. He told me loved me. We're 'courting'."

"You're what-ing?" Amarant asked.

"Courting. You know. Courting."

"No, I don't know 'courting'."

"You've never courted a girl? You know, taken her out, got to know her?"

"Doesn't ring a bell."

"Great oaf."

"So like," interjected Zidane, "He's actually remembered you now?"

"Zidane!" cried Dagger, aghast at her lover's tactlessness.

"What?"

"It's all right," smiled Freya. "No he hasn't, Zidane. But I do have hopes."

Amarant folded his arms, a scowl on his face. Freya began to tell Zidane what had occurred over the year, and he stopped listening. In his opinion, Fratley had had his chance, a chance he had thrown away when he left her. But Freya, loyal, brave, stupid Freya, gave everyone a second chance, even Beatrix, a woman who had killed at least two thirds of her species. He stood up suddenly and walked away from the table wordlessly, leaving Freya to watch him with a beautiful confused look on her face. Zidane asked her:

"When are you returning to Burmecia?"

"He's expecting me tomorrow..." Freya replied distractedly.

"So soon?"

"Yes...I miss him," Freya said with a little bit of a sheepish smile. She stood up in Amarant's stead and said quietly, "Forgive me. I'll be back in a moment."

With that, she walked around the table and out of the door to follow her red headed friend. She watched him walk out of the large main door and she called after him, but was only ignored, though he obviously heard her. Freya scratched her head and shrugged her shoulder, before following him further.

Amarant was sat on the cast iron bench before Brahne's grave, a secluded spot, surrounded by roses and Sakura trees. Red Cardinals sat about him, chirping merrily, as he sat with his hands clenched into fists, arms stretching over the back of the bench. He looked more pensive than Freya had ever seen him, and she approached him gently, calling softly:

"Amarant? Are you all right?"

He grunted, and she put a hand on her hip, the other sweeping her silver hair from her eye, where it had fallen, obscuring her sight. She sat beside him and put a hand on his knee, peering to look at his eye, for he had turned his head in the opposite direction to her. This action increased the pressure on his knee as she leaned on it to get a view of him, and his set jaw quirked slightly and he silently groaned in satisfaction. Freya reached out an arm to brush his hair from his eyes but, the moment she touched his face, he grabbed her hand and spun to face her, putting his face but an inch away from hers.

"What do you want Crescent?"

Freya's mouth fell open and she gasped shortly, not expecting this sudden ferocity, but she composed herself and said calmly:

"I just want to know what's wrong."

He pushed her arm away from him and returned to his prior position, his face turned away from her. She began to unconsciously massage his knee in a comforting manner, as she crooned softly:

"Come on Amarant. You've never held back with me. Yell at me. Tell me I'm out of order. Tell me I won't understand. Just don't give me the silent treatment." She gave a small smile. "You great pudding."

Her hand grew more insistent, firmer on his knee, and finally, as he could no longer stand it, he swung back to her and grabbed her by the shoulders and roared in her face:

"You're too fucking good for him, you stupid, ignorant idiot! You know you don't love him but you don't let him go because you don't want to hurt him, but you're killing yourself like this! You have absolutely no idea how precious you are, but you hide it from the world for an amnesiac bastard who doesn't know how good he's got it!"

"Amarant...!"

"You're so beautiful, so fragile, and this is breaking you! And I can't let that happen! I love you too god damned much!"

There was a sudden silence, save for the awkward chirping of the cardinals, and Amarant looked down to the ground as he began to think to himself: 'fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck'. After a second, Freya's mouth parted slightly to say:

"You…"

She couldn't, however, finish this sentence for, the moment she tried, Amarant had leaned down to kiss her soundly on the mouth. Freya's arms flailed wildly behind her, but after a moment they dropped and she, limp as a rag doll, succumbed to his rough, rude affection. She wasn't entirely sure what was running through her mind, but she knew that none of her thoughts included the man she was supposed to be in love with. She put on hand to his face, where she traced her soft hand over his rough stubble, thumb working it's way back and forth over his jawbone. It was only when Amarant's tongue prodded insistently on her lips, and she complied instantly, that she began to wonder what she was doing. His hands scaled her body feverishly, and when one of them found her breast and began to knead the tip of it lightly, she gave a small sigh, excited and frightened at the ecstasy of the contact, but pulled away from him. They looked at each other for a split second before Freya shot up and walked away, one hand on her brow. Amarant leaned back and slapped his hand to his forehead, closing his eyes as he sighed deeply.

"Shit..."

Freya walked straight through the castle and into her room, where she proceeded to grab large armfuls of clothes and stuff them into her large pack, stopping every now and again to run desperate hands through her hair. She heard a knocking on her door and she flew to a mirror to brush herself down, taking a handkerchief and wiping beneath her eyes where her fur was tellingly wet. She coughed to expel the lump in her throat, before calling softly:

"Come in."

Dagger slipped quietly in, her blue dress sweeping the floor lightly, bell sleeves wrapped around a steaming mug of coffee. Her big brown eyes opened wide, and she asked with her pretty voice:

"You're packing so soon?"

"Would it be possible for me to borrow airship for an hour or so, please Dagger?"

"O-of course, Freya. I just, thought you were leaving tomorrow?"

"I was...talking to Amarant, and he said I should surprise Fratley."

One of Dagger's eyebrows lifted an inch in a delicate arc, and she said in an incredulous voice:

"Amarant said that?"

"I was surprised too."

Dagger handed her the coffee, and Freya accepted it gratefully, sitting on the bed and sipping it delicately. Garnet folded her legs and sat beside her lightly, deep in thought, her finger to her mouth, and she commented:

"You know, Amarant's pretty thoughtful underneath all the rage and angst and-"

"Hair?"

"And hair," agreed Dagger with a laugh. She stood up once more and said, "I'll go talk to Zidane about that airship."

"Thank you."

Dagger gave her a little smile and left Freya to slump onto the bed and breathe heavily, before continuing to pack her bag.

'What in the God's names has happened to me?' he lamented miserably, 'I'm like a fucking puppy over her. I don't do the whole 'love' thing, it's depressing. Hell, I've never even 'courted' someone, what do I know about it?'

He opened his eyes with an imaginary snap, before he stood up and stalked around the corner, only to meet a running Garnet and bump into her, causing her to fly to the ground. She looked up, smiled at him and she brushed herself down, and she said to him:

"I was just looking for you!"

"Well you've found me."

"I just wanted to say, it was a really nice idea."

Amarant folded his arms and leaned on one leg, as he was wont to do, giving her a flat look. Cocking his head to one side, he asked with a confused manner:

"Eh?"

"You know? Telling her to go and surprise Fratley."

"I still don't follow you."

Dagger laughed and reached up to knock him lightly on the head, an action which Amarant swiped away in annoyance.

"You mustn't have anything up there at all if you can't remember ten minutes ago." Amarant still looked blank, so she sighed and said, "Remember? Telling Freya that it would be a nice idea to go to see Fratley early, so that she could surprise him? I think that was really sweet of you, it just goes to show how close you and she have gotten."

Amarant's fist clenched, and he gritted his teeth, but he gave a smirk and said with a bark of laughter:

"Just wanted to get rid of her really."

"I know you'd never want her to know it, Amarant, but you love being around Freya." Dagger gave a sweet smile. "No need to put on this facade of indifference."

With this, Dagger felt she had done all she could, and thus she walked past him and went to find Zidane with regards to the airship. Amarant was still for a moment, before Dagger was out of eye and earshot, and then he gave a large growl and kicked the closest thing to hand (or foot), which just happened to be the bench. He gave a howl of pain, before growling even louder and making a dignified beeline towards the castle, to his room, where he could nurse his pride, his unrequited love and his foot, in peace.

"Right then. I'm off." Freya gave a weak grin at the congregation. "Princess, I'm relatively pleased Zidane is still alive. Not ecstatic, but pleased."

Dagger gave her an appreciative smile and held her hand tightly, before releasing her so that she could give Eiko one last embrace before she setting foot on the airship deck, giving the gathered group one last smile. The propellers started and the ship gave a lurch, and Freya stumbled to the rail of the ship, and as it lifted high into the air, she gave everyone an energetic wave, fake smile no longer plastered to her face. Her smile had faded, and she allowed her hand to slip off the rail, and she turned and went into the cockpit. Zidane was bouncing merrily at the wheel as he whistled a tune he was making up on the spot, tail flicking and legs akimbo. He never could dance. Being dead had certainly done him a great deal of good; he was not only even more energetic than before, he had also learned to whistle in tune. I guess he had a lot of time to learn, Freya figured. He looked and gave her a grin, and, as if he had read her thoughts, he began to whistle louder. The Burmecian stalked over to the window of the Invincible and touched the window lightly as she watched Alexandria Castle retreat into the distance. She was in mid sigh as Zidane's voice made her jump, and she turned to look at him, her eyebrows raised in question.

"So what's the deal? Why'd you suddenly decide to run home to Fratley?"

"Amarant said-"

"Oh come off it, no he didn't."

"What?" questioned Freya, her head spinning to look at Zidane, one eye squinted slightly testily.

"Come on," said Zidane with a grin, "I mean, I love the guy, but he's hardly Mr. Romantic."

Freya's lip curled slightly, and she bit her tongue to stop her saying anything she regretted. She shrugged her shoulders and sat down on the floor, her legs askew like a doll, and she picked at her jeans with a smile.

"I was taken aback as well, but I know him better than you Zidane. He's full of surprises."

"Maybe, but I can't imagine him doing something so out of character. And I mean, he hates Fratley."

"You really can't keep your foot out of your mouth, can you Zidane?"

Zidane looked at her, worried he had offended the Burmecian, but she had a wry smile on her face. He breathed a sigh of relief, before answering her:

"Nah, I never could really."

"I know."

"It's charming though."

"Hardly. Dagger seems to overlook it, however, so it can't be that bad."

"He really does hate him though. I never understood why."

"I never knew he did."

"Liar."

"Well then, I ignored it. It's hardly the most super thing when your closest friend hates your…significant other."

"Your what?"

"Significant other." She sighed and explained. "It sounds weird calling him my boyfriend. I'm not a teenager anymore, I can't have boyfriends."

"Jeez, Freya, you make it sound like you're fast approaching your death bed. You're only twenty two for Terra's sake."

"Twenty two going on dead," commented Freya bluntly.

"Quit being so melodramatic," said Zidane with a laugh, "Burmecia ho!"

"Fabulous."

Zidane pressed a series of brightly coloured buttons and Freya noted, with some amusement, how ironic it was that a race of such blank individuals had made such a decorative and elaborate airship. She ship smoothly sailed towards the ground, only jolting, or in fact making a sound, when it stopped. Zidane pressed another purple button and Freya could hear the teleport switching on with a loud 'bwoing'. She had always loved that sound. She smiled at Zidane, who gave her a cheeky grin, and she embraced him briefly, saying quietly:

"I really am thrilled you're back."

"I know Freya."

She let him go and picked up her bag, before walking through the slide-door and onto the teleporter. She called a 'thank you' to him, and she waved at him until she knew he could no longer see her blurred image on the pad. She found herself on the lush green ground before Burmecia, revelling in the sunshine, before walking East where, after a few steps, it suddenly got very dark and very gloomy. She heard a 'swoosh' as the Invincible lifted off the ground , and she put her hand to her brow to obscure the sunlight, so that she could look high into the air until Zidane was out of sight. She hoisted her pack onto her back where it had begun to slip off, and she continued walking.

Walking to Burmecia, even half a kilometre, is a strange experience, considering how warm the surrounding areas are. First it gets dark, and then cold, and then finally you get a sudden wash of water over you, like stepping under a shower. Freya had just stepped under the shower, and she was loving the familiar sensation on her face, despite the fact that her jeans were becoming waterlogged and heavy. She walked up to the gates, where a sentinel was on watch, and he squinted a little at her before exclaiming:

"Lady Freya!"

"Hello Grey."

The Burmecians exchanged a short embrace, before stepping back and smiling warmly at each other.

"We weren't expecting you back so early, what a nice surprise!" he looked around her. "No Zidane?"

"No, he's still recovering from his reincarnation," replied Freya dryly.

"Well make sure he comes back, the kids miss him."

"He could never stay away from his Godchildren too long."

"Damn straight." He scrutinised her for a second. "Jeans? Didn't think they were your kinda thing."

"Neither did I," she admitted. "Eiko got them for me, they're far more comfortable than I thought. I think they really might catch on."

After exchanging a few more pleasantries and observations Freya passed him and walked through the town to the house with two balconies, being stopped and greeted four times along the way. She entered the right door quietly, putting her bag down with as much gentleness as she could muster. She ran her hands along her possessions happily, glad to be home. She slipped off her boots and stood on her dainty tip toes as she climbed the stairs quietly. She put her hand on the door gingerly, before calling softly:

"Fratley…"

She pushed the door open suddenly, and recoiled with horror, her hand at her mouth, when she saw the contents.

Fratley was in the process of undressing another woman. His hands were unbuttoning the clasps on the other woman's dress, his mouth busy at her exposed breast, and her head was thrown back in passion, mouth ajar, a slow moan erupting from within. Fratley was half undressed himself, his hat, shirt and trousers slung about the room lazily, and as he advanced on Freya with his arm outstretched, he grabbed them from their places. The woman was frantically buttoning up her dress, and she hurried out onto the balcony and down the cast iron stairs without hesitation.

"Freya…" he crooned, touching her arm.

Freya took her arm away, backing away faster, making a short, almost whimpering noise. She whispered something and he asked quietly:

"What, Love?"

"Don't you dare."

"Freya, please, lets sit down, talk about this."

"Why would you do that?" Freya cried. "I loved you! I adapted to your memory loss, I devoted my time, my love to helping you regain it!"

"I just…I'm sure I did...I just…I can't now. I've become a different person Freya…"

"What's wrong with me? Why can't you?"

Fratley couldn't answer, and Freya, one hand rubbing up and down her arm savagely, the way it did when she was angry and upset, collapsed suddenly to the floor in tears. Her legs were bent askew and her arms were lying on the floor, her head between them, hair pooling on the floor.

"What did I do that was wrong…?"

"I wasn't you Freya, it's just I…"

"Why couldn't you love me? Like you used to?" her head snapped upwards to look at him. "You're still the same person!"

"No Freya," Fratley said, smoothing her hair, "That's just it, I'm not, I don't like the same things, remember the same things, know the same things, I'm not your Fratley. I tried to be, truly!"

"Not hard enough!"

"Freya…"

"Why couldn't you tell me? Why did you have to have an affair?"

"I didn't want to hurt you!"

"Because this is so much better…"

"Please, try to see it from my angle…"

"Just leave."

"Freya, why don't we just-"

"Just go!"

"All right," Fratley said with a sigh. "All right, I'll go."

He tugged his trousers on and left, touching Freya's shoulder as he walked past her. She swiped away and he shook his head and exited the house. Only when he was out of earshot, did Freya fall to the floor, lying on the ground, stroking the stone floor, crying out her broken heart.

"Did you really tell her to go and surprise him?"

"Oh yeah," replied Amarant in a high pitched voice , "and then we went and got a manicure and shopped for shoes!"

Zidane watched him for a second, one eyebrow cocked, before he frowned and said in a relieved voice:

"Oh thank the gods, you're being sarcastic."

"No shit."

"Well what did you say? Whatever it was, it made her run pretty fast. And you're like, totally enamoured by her, so it can't have been anything to do with going back to Fratley."

"I am not."

"I'm not an idiot Amarant."

"Coulda fooled me."

"What did you say to her?"

"I…I told her I loved her."

"Sheeeeeeeeet."

"Exactly."

"What happened?"

"I told her that Fratley's an incompetent twat, he doesn't deserve her, and that I love her. Then I kissed her. Then she ran away."

"Well what the hell are you doing here you moron?"

"What?"

"We've gotta get on that Invincible!"

Zidane and Amarant ran to the airship dock, but on the way, knocked into Dagger, who was reading a book, oblivious to all else.

"Oh!" she cried. "Hello!"

"Hey Love," smiled Zidane.

"Where are you off to?"

"None of your-" began Amarant.

"We're off to win Freya's heart!" Said Zidane, excited.

"Would you just quit yelling about it...?"

"That sounds wonderful, I'll just go put some shoes!" Dagger said decidedly.

"Listen you're not..."

"Wonderful!" Cried Zidane.

"Wouldn't they be a sweet couple?" Said Dagger dreamily.

"Hey listen, I just wanna..."

"Absolutely, they'd be like, totally kawaii!" Said Zidane, eyes shining.

"Kawaii? What the hell...?"

";; omg yeah!" Replied Dagger.

"Why is no one listening to me...?"

Forty five minutes later, and not a moment too soon in Amarant's opinion, Zidane and Dagger were just a pair of figures at the window of the Invincible as the stoic walked towards Burmecia. He flipped them the finger demurely, before walking through the mire towards the lonely city. When he finally, after getting thoroughly soaked through, arrived at the gates, he was stopped by Grey, who demanded:

"What's your business in Burmecia?"

"Seein' Freya."

Grey lifted his hand and brushed away Amarant's hair, before peering at him. Amarant rolled his eyes, before batting away Grey's hand, and Grey jumped and said:

"My humble apologies Amarant. Freya never told us we were expecting visitors." He smiled apologetically and inclined his head towards the city, which was still less than rebuilt. "We're being more careful about who we let in now, you know? We don't want our children facing the same fate as these old buildings."

"That's fair enough, I guess."

"We've only just begun to rebuild these parts, we haven't been able to muster the money. However, we are forever indebted to Cid and Garnet for giving us the adequate funds." "He grinned suddenly and stepped away. "Sorry, I'm keeping you."

"Don't worry about it."

"She's in the one on the right, with the balcony."

"Thanks."

"God bless."

"You too."

With that, Amarant walked on by, heading straight ahead, through the streets where he received some dubious looks, and when he finally arrived at the house, he saw Fratley stalk out of the door, looking somewhat shaken, and he left the door ajar, his mind evidently somewhere else. Amarant watched him with angry eyes until he was out of sight, when he walked towards the door and pushed it open gingerly. The moment he closed the door, all her could her was heavy breathing and muffled moans echoing over the stone walls, and he called out:

"Freya…?"

The moaning stopped for a second for a voice to cry:

"Get out!"

Amarant climbed the stairs slowly, almost frightened. When he reached the top, he jumped with shock, to see Freya, huddled in the corner of the landing, curled into a protective ball.

"What happened Crescent?"

"Leave me alone."

"Rat?"

"Leave me alone!"

She leapt up and ran at him, arm outstretched, as though she wanted to kill him, but when she reached him, she found she could do nothing but melt into his strangely protective arms. She began to cry, hitting one hand against his chest, and Amarant just scooped her up into his arms and wrapped his coat around her. He left the house, only to be bombarded by Fratley, who cried:

"Where are you taking her?"

"Away from here," was the blunt reply.

Amarant pushed Fratley away, and Fratley wasn't fond of the idea of confronting Amarant, imposing and large as he was, so he simply watched him take her away, through the rain.

Freya woke up, warm and in bed. She shook her head and looked about, realising suddenly that she was in Alexandria castle, and, upon hearing a rustling, she looked quickly to the side, and saw Amarant, his head down in sleep, perched on a chair. She stood up and walked to the her drapes, pulling them aside and hiding her eyes as the light streamed in. She looked down and realised that she had been put into her burgundy night shirt, very carefully, but obviously very embarrassedly, for many of the buttons were in the wrong holes. As the light hit Amarant's eyes, he made a noise and woke suddenly, shielding them with pain. He looked to the curtains and saw Freya looking at her night shirt, and he stood awkwardly, knocking into her bed side table and making it fall over with a bang. She gave a weak smile, and he said:

"You were soaked through…You would've gotten ill, I just-"

"It's all right Amarant."

"What happened?"

Freya sat down on the bed and patted the space beside her. Amarant sat there gingerly, and Freya rested her head on his shoulder.

"I've had my heart broken by the same man twice, and I'm only twenty two. I only met him when I was eighteen." She gave a wry smile. "I think that's quite good going. Though I'd never suspect him of having an affair."

"He did what?"

"I know."

"I'm going to kill that fucking-"

"Amarant…"

"Sorry."

"Why did you come to Burmecia?"

"I…Came to get you."

"Oh…"

"I hated him, and I didn't want you to be with him, you know that."

"Amarant…"

"But I never woulda wanted this. Not to you."

Freya looked up to the man whose poker face was directed dead ahead, but his russet brown eyes chanced down and caught hers, and he gave her brief smile. She nudged him and said with a small grin:

"You've become so maudlin. What happened to you Amarant?"

"You did."

Freya was silent, but her hand weaved into Amarant's affectionately. Amarant gave it a squeeze and looked down at her, and she said:

"I'll need time Amarant."

"Time to go back to Fratley?" he said with a slight edge in his voice.

"No," said Freya decisively, "Not again."

She looked up at him, a small smile on her face, and she raised her head to him and they kissed, short, but sweet, Amarant's hand stroking her hair. They parted and Freya said quietly:

"Damned Mimble."

"Silly fool."

She may have changed him, but he liked what she changed him into.