I wrote this story in four different versions. I didn't like the other three... Please review (or not) as you see fit.

Note: Words in italics are being exaggerated in their pronunciation.

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Disclaimer: I do not own Fire Emblem.

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There he is. She found him standing there in a corner of the ball so he could be inconspicuous like any other normal rogue with a normal employer.

But she wasn't going to have that with her rogue.

"Are you going to brood the evening away?" she said to him. "It is poor manners to ignore a lady as fair as I!"

He sighed. He wanted to tell her that she was haughty, unfair, arrogant and loud. But it'd be too much trouble to wait out her tantrums. "All right, princess," he said, sighing again. He lost track of how much time he had spent at this royal snob party.

Rennac followed L'Arachel very reluctantly. He trudged, hoping that some fruit cart or another could run him over so he could escape. But that might ruin the white tuxedo that the princess had gotten for him. Her exact words were, "If there is so much as a wrinkle upon that garment, I shall have you pay ten-fold to replace it!"

The rogue could've just worn something else. But it'd be too much trouble having her fuss about it. "Hey, milady, might I ask where you're dragging me?"

L'Arachel didn't turn around and kept on walking. "I'm dragging you to the dance floor, Mr. White Tuxedo."

Groan. Rennac disliked that name. She'd been calling him that since the ball started. He wanted to ask her to stop doing that. But it'd be too much trouble to argue with her.

"Do I have to go with you?" he whined. The princess said nothing. Roguish as he was, Rennac decided that he could just slip away since L'Arachel hadn't once looked back. But it'd be too much trouble to lie about it afterwards.

Abruptly, the princess stopped. Rennac nearly bumped into her, but he steeled himself to stop before she had a reason to lecture him about feet coordination. Then he looked around. "So, who's the loser that you're going to dance with?"

L'Arachel turned around with her hands on her hips. "The loser that I'm going to dance with is you."

That sent his brain to a halt. Rennac stared at her. She was waiting with her hand impatiently outstretched and her eyes awaiting him.

"Me?" he said in disbelief.

"Yes, Mr. White Tuxedo. You."

The rogue sighed. L'Arachel started to tap her foot. This was too much. He could tell her he sprained his ankle or something. Oh whatever, he thought. And with that, he took her hand.

It'd be too much trouble to get away from her.