In the thick of battle, Hector's mind seemed to leave his body. He was always glad for that. It enabled him to fight without feeling the immediate guilt. Often times, it came later, especially when innocents had been put at risk – but Hector was a little more hardened than Eliwood when it came to emotions in battle.

Hector threw and slashed with his axe, feeling his own power behind each blow and achieving a sickening sort of satisfaction when the hammer hit. Enemies and allies danced around him in the wide, grassy field, but Hector focused on nothing but the fight. The sun beat hot and bright overhead, like a large, fiery, glaring dragon's eye.

Hector heard sudden sounds behind him: a falling body and the soft swish of a speeding sword. Quickly, he whipped around with his axe at the ready, about to crash it down on the head of whoever was attacking him – and found himself with a sword to his throat.

And clutching the long, shining blade was none other than Lyn, her eyes fierce. She recognized him at once, lowering her sword. Her bright green eyes widened the slightest bit. But she still kept them constantly flickering over their surroundings and opponents, and her grip was still very tight on her sword's hilt. The sight jolted Hector's mind, sending him flying out of his cold battle-mode and back into heart-pounding, dangerous reality.

"You're not fast enough quite yet, Hector," Lyn said, a little out of breath. Her chest heaved with every word she spoke. "You're lucky I looked before I struck."

"I am indeed. I'm lucky that you're faster than me." Hector rubbed his neck. "I should learn from you. Sometimes, I don't look before I strike."

"You could regret that one day," she said seriously. Suddenly she frowned and touched the collar of his shirt, one of the few places where he wore no armor. "Was this torn before?" she asked.

Hector glanced down. "I don't think so."

"I think I ripped it when I dropped my sword. I'm sorry. Bring it by my tent when the battle's over and I'll mend it for you, all right?"

Hector nodded, but before he could say anything, she jumped to the side and dashed forward, slashing her blade across the throat of a soldier who had a spear aimed at Hector's back. Lyn grimaced and wiped the man's blood from her cheek. Her eyes met Hector's for a second – but then, the battle seemed to roar back into complete, full, furious life, and they were pushed farther and farther apart in the fray. Hector lost sight of her in seconds. His mind disengaged and he went back into his battling mode, forgoing guilt and emotion for a later time.

"Lyn? I have my shirt for you to mend, if you have the time."

"Of course. Come in." Lyn held a needle in her teeth as she pushed open the tent flap for him; she was busy mending her own dress, but she had told him she'd fix the tear in his shirt. With a quick knot, she finished her dress and turned to Hector. "Let me get a new thread," she said. But as she did so, she flicked her eyes back towards him. He didn't have his shirt with him.

"You're sure you're not busy?" Hector asked, grinning and holding his exceptionally empty arms wide.

"No, I'm not, but – where's the shirt?"

Hector tugged on his collar, which – Lyn realized bemusedly – was the one that was torn. "Right here," he said cheerfully. "Would you like me to take it off?"

"Nice try," Lyn said dryly, glaring at him in a good-humored way. "Just stand still."

Pulling up a small, three-legged wooden stool, Lyn stepped up so that she was the same height as him and could work on the shirt without having to hold her arms too high. Carefully, to ensure that she wouldn't accidentally poke him with the needle, Lyn ran the thread in even, strong cross-stitches through the thin fabric of his shirt. It smelled both of sweat and blood – but over that, she could smell something nicer; a warm scent that was uniquely Hector.

Smiling a little, Lyn finished the sewing and tied it off. For once, her work was essentially perfect; Lyn couldn't help but feel a little proud. She'd never been fantastic at sewing back on the plains. She patted her work and met his eyes. "There. All done."

Hector grabbed her hands before she could move them away. Lyn raised her eyebrows at him.

"Yes. I dare," Hector said, smirking.

He was unbelievable sometimes. But at least it was all for her. Shaking her head a little, Lyn slid her hand behind his head and kissed him, feeling a smile against her lips and a pair of strong hands on her waist. Maybe – just maybe, in this tiny spare moment of peace – there was time for more than what either of them could ever expect.