"Hey…Soren?"

Soren, a frustrated look in his eyes, turned to the commander. "Yes?"

"What is it with you lately? You've been so quiet and withdrawn. Are you okay?"

Of course Ike had picked the worst time to accuse him of being withdrawn; it only made him want to shy away from his general and secret love interest even more. It was hard enough for Soren to accept the fact that he was Ike-sexual, (The only person he had ever had sexual feelings for was Ike, and not anyone else, therefore, Ike-sexual, not homosexual.) And he had only recently come to terms with it. (On second thought, perhaps that was the reason he was cranky?) After all, he hated everything. He hated the way the birds sang in the morning, he hated the blinding way the sun rose. He hated the constant idiocy of his fellow mercenaries and soldiers alike. Ike was his exception.

In any case, Soren simply told Ike 'Nothing', turned, and left for his tent.

"Soren? Soren! Damn…" Ike cursed softly, glancing around. Ranulf sat in a small tree, yawning, obviously waking up from a nap. Perfect. "Ranulf? Could I have a word with you?"

"And…That pretty much sums it up."

"Wow. Well, it sounds to me like he's got a little crush on 'ya."

"Crush? On me?"

"Yep. And he's just realized he loves you, so he's trying to avoid you, and everyone else, because he thinks they'll find out."

"…And you know all this how?"

"Lethe went through the same with yours truly."

"Ah. Well…What should I do?"

"It's simple. You get him to confess his feelings, then you tell him what you feel, if you feel anything for him at all. That'll get it all out in the open; make it easier for both of you."

"How do I do that?"

"Duh. You get him drunk. The drunk are the most honest people in the world. Just give him some good, heavy beer or something, wait a little, and probe until he spills."

"I don't know about this…"

"You can't just ask him if he loves you; he'll just deny it and never speak to you again. Is that what you want?"

"Well…No…"

"Then get him drunk. I know the name of a good tavern nearby, or –"

"Soren is…Soren. He wouldn't drink beer."

"Well, what will you give him, then?"

A smirk slowly crossed the general's face. "Wine."

"That's my kinda thinkin'! Now go get him, big boy!" Ranulf gave Ike a push, sending him on his way.

The trap was set. Ike felt a certain sense of accomplishment as the last candle was lit. He finished scattering the rose petals around and on the bed in his tent, which was really only a mattress on some wood, but, hey, isn't that what all beds were? No matter. He turned the plates ever so slightly on their mats, making sure he had folded the napkins correctly. They looked terrible, but they would have to do. The finest wine he could find lay in a bucket filled with ice on the table. Now all he needed was Soren.

He left the tent, only to find the camp practically deserted. It wasn't that late, was it? Ike glanced around, catching a glimpse of raven hair. He ran after it immediately, only to find Aimee, in all her pink glory, turning and smiling at him.

"Ooooh, it's my very own hero!" She exclaimed.

"Aimee, have you seen Soren?"

"…Humph. You could at least tell me that my eyes are like fire when the moonlight hits them or something…"

"You're pretty. Now, where's Soren?"

The shop girl swooned. "He's in his tent, I heard him in there ten minutes ago." Ike was gone before she had time to call out his name.

He stopped in front of the tent, which wasn't far from his own, lest Soren be dressing or some such thing. "Soren?"

"…"

"I know you're in there, come out."

"…Fine, I'm coming." Soren strode to the entrance silently, pulling the tent flap aside and giving Ike his meanest look. Ike had to keep himself from flinching. "What is it?"

"I just wanted to see if I could treat a handsome young man to dinner and some wine."

Soren's eyes narrowed. "Who put you up to this?"

Ike, taken aback, simply stared dumbly. "Nobody, I just wanted to see if you wanted some dinner -"

"I heard you. But who's paying you? Is it Shinon? I bet it is." He pulled a wind tome from behind him, flipping it open.

"Hey, hey, there's no need to get hasty, I'm being honest."

"…Really?"

"Yeah."

"…Alright." Ike led him away.

It was two hours from the moment Soren had seen the flowers, and the candles, and the beautiful dinner that Oscar had prepared specifically for them. (Ike hadn't told him that it was for Soren, of course; only that it was for him and a special someone.) Two hours since Soren had suddenly found all the breath gone from his lungs, and had found that…Maybe Ike was holding his hand for a little too long?

The mage, being young and fairly petite, didn't hold his wine well, and it didn't take him but two glasses to be absolutely drunk out of his mind. He rocked back and forth in his seat. "You…You know, Ike…You're my…My best friend…"

"You're my best friend too."

Soren giggled, showing pearly white teeth. "You're silly. You always know exactly what to say to make me happy, you know."

"I'm glad."

"It's weird…Okay, okay, it's probably the wine talking…Actually, it's the wine talking, I know it is…And I'm gonna regret this in the morning. But, I have to tell you, I've been holding it in for way too long, you know?"

Ike, despite being dense by nature, knew what was to come. "Go on."

"Have you ever wanted to ask something so badly you could burst…But you knew that if you asked, your heart would be broken?"

"I can't say I have, but I have heard accounts of it. Everyone says it's the worst thing to go through."

"Yeah, it…It is."

"What is it you want to ask, Soren?"

"There isn't really an easy way to put it…"

"You've never been known for saying things gently."

Soren took a long, long swig of his wine. "But you're my exception, you know."

Ike smiled. "I know. Now, what was it you wanted to ask?"

"Well…It's more of a confession..."

"That's alright." He was being very patient with the mage, though his heart was racing and his palms were sweating and his mouth was dry.

"Okay…Umm…" He laughed again, a wonderful sound. "This is gonna sound really, really stupid. And you're probably gonna hate me…" A quiet realization came over him, and the drunkenness in his eyes cleared, if only for a second. Ike was going to hate him. No, he couldn't do this. He couldn't.

Soren stood from his chair, stumbling. "Alright…I…I'm going to bed…" He slurred.

"Soren, wait."

"Thanks for a lovely dinner, but I have to go. By your leave –"

Ike threw himself at Soren, wrapping his arms around the tiny body and holding him close. "It's okay…" He whispered as the mage struggled. "I know everything." In a moment, all of Soren's fears, his doubts, his endless nights spent crying himself to sleep, they were all out, gone from his soul. He shook as he cried.

"How…?" He sobbed, looked up at Ike. "How can you not hate me?"

"I could never hate you, Soren, now calm down, shhh…"

"I…You…I love you…"

"I know."

Soren stared up at him for a moment. 'I know' … it rang in his ears. He shoved Ike away. "I'll be leaving for Gallia in the morning, then."

"What? No!" Soren stormed from the tent, not bothering to listen to the general. "Wait, listen to me! Just listen, will you?"

"I've heard it all." His voice was cold. So cold.

"Please, please, Soren. I'm not good at these kinds of things, I just…" He grabbed Soren again.

"Let go of me! I said let –" His lips were captured, taken hostage by Ike's own. They stayed like that for a moment, the raven-haired mage's body frozen, his back against the tent pole, his hand on the flap, his eyes closed as tears flowed freely from them. The general didn't say much, he never had, and that night, he had only said a little more than usual, but his kiss spoke for him, and it said so many words. I love you too…Don't ever leave me. I couldn't live without you. I wish with all my heart I had told you sooner. Ike pulled away.

"Are you still going to Gallia?"

"…No…"

"Shall I convince you further?"

"…Huh? Hey!" Ike picked him up, laying him on the petal-covered bed and kissing him again, a little rougher this time. Soren wriggled beneath him in happiness, about to explode from the overwhelming excitement. How long had he wanted this? Too long.

Soren adored the way Ike looked when he came. He worshiped the way Ike nibbled his ear, groaning in ecstasy as he touched him. He loved the way Ike was so clumsy and innocent in bed.

They lie beside each other, sleep overcoming them, the high from orgasm lifting slowly. And, as Ike wrapped his arms awkwardly and quietly around Soren, the mage knew only one thing: He hated everyone in the world, including himself. Ike was his one exception.