Copy-and-Paste Disclaimer:I do not own Tales of Symphonia. I do however own the concept of 'all matters of luck and fate'—more information on that can be found on my profile.

This takes place between end of the game and Kratos's 'flight'.

I'm horrible at dwarven accents so please forgive Dirk's poorly expressed one and Altessa's lack of one.

Also, like majority of my stories, Kratos and Zelos hated each other during the game—Zelos because Kratos's actions as a father and Kratos because Zelos often rubs his failures and the fact Lloyd hates him in Kratos's face as well as not staying away from his son—and basically drew swords on sight whenever they were alone together. At least, that's how they are in my stories.

Zelos can honestly say he has never been more worried in his life. Anxious-worried, that is, not worried-for-my-life-or-someone-else's-worried—though he'd never easily admit to that last one.

He took a deep breath to calm his nerves and then knocked on the door.

Inside, Kratos was seated at the table, writing page after page of what some would equate to a fairytale if only because the events recorded had been changed practically to the point of being fictional.

Dirk had graciously offered him a place to stay for the time being so Kratos could work on what the others called his 'homework assignment' given to him by the professor who wished to chronicle the newly-dubbed Journey of Restoration and had requested that he contribute his own side to the story.

She also told him that if he found it absolutely necessary to alter his account of the events, then at least write one with whole truth and she'd let Lloyd only see the doctored one; though it would be better if he just gave the whole truth in the first place.

Kratos had ignored this advice and chosen to double his workload.

He looked up at the sound of the knock at the door. Glancing over to Dirk to see the dwarf currently in the middle of cooling his handiwork, Kratos stood, "I shall answer it."

"Ah, thank ya."

Kratos opened to door to find the last person he'd ever expect to be standing alone with a nervous aura about him.

Zelos was about ready to lose his nerve, did he seriously think this was going to work? Plus they were far enough away from town that no one would hear him scream.

"Who is it?" Dirk asked inspecting the metal for flaws.

"Zelos Wilder." Kratos stated, allowing Zelos in.

"I, err, needed to talk to you both."

"Oh?" Dirk pulled off his blacksmith gloves and went over to where the other two were standing, "What be the problem?"

"Well, umm…" Zelos eyes flicked back and forth between the men in front of him.

Kratos had never seen him look so unsure of himself.

Zelos swallowed then straightened, apparently having mustered up the courage to do what he did next. It was now or never.

He lowered himself to one knee and put his hands flat palm-down in a recognizable 'swear by the soil' manner, a combination of the dwarven and ancient Tethe'allan traditions for the situation.

"Sirs, I request permission to marry your son."

There was long moment when nothing was said.

"Well, you've certainly done your research…" Kratos observed.

"That he did." Dirk agreed.

Their words were followed by a lengthy, nerve-racking silence in which Zelos thought about how he ended up finally doing this and hoping to all matters of luck and fate he hadn't done it wrong.

— — — Events Leading Up to Present — — —

"Colette! Sheena! My sweet little angel and voluptuous hunny!" Zelos called out as he approached them.

They turned, "Yes? What is it?" Colette asked.

Zelos stopped in front of them. "I was thinking, do either of you have any spells of good luck you could use on me? I could use all the help I can get."

The two looked at each other and Sheena said carefully, "Mizuho has some charms created to ward off misfortune. Why?"

"Well, you know how when word spread around your village that you were intending to marry the Chosen, everyone had only gotten it half-right?"

"Actually, my grandfather got it all right, but what does that have to…do…with…ah."

"Oh, I'm sure he'll say yes!" Colette said, happy for her friend.

"It's not bud I'm worried about, not by a long shot. You how before you propose you traditionally have to ask for the father's blessing?"

"…I don't have any that strong. I don't even need to check."

"I don't think I'm powerful enough to work that kind of magic, either."

"Please. Colette, you're the purest angel of them all, if anyone can perform good luck spells strong enough to redeem the damned, it's you! And Sheena, you're the only one who's ever done this! Yuan and Martel were on the run at the time and the old man's kinda outta the question."

"Zelos, I don't think this is the same…"

"Not even remotely. You're on your own for this one."

"Well, thanks anyways."

— — — — — — —

Zelos knocked on the door.

"Who in the world would-?" It opened to reveal Altessa, "Wilder?" he scowled, "What do you want, you sneak?"

Zelos internally flinched, so the food-drugging incident hadn't been forgotten. This was going to be harder than he'd thought.

"I kinda need your help with something."

"If you want a new sword, go ask Dirk." Altessa said as he began to close the door.

"Wait!" Altessa paused, "This isn't about a weapon and I definitely can't ask Dirk about this."

Altessa held him in a long stare, "Fine. But you have to do something for me in return." He said opening the door to allow Zelos in, "I've been a bit shorthanded ever since my assistant was turned into a holy deity. And tell me why you can't ask Dirk about whatever this is."

"You name it, I'll do it! I'm guessing cooking out of the question?"

Altessa gave him an unamused look.

"Okay, that was in poor taste, I'm sorry. "

"I can kick you out right now."

"But I didn't-oh! I swear that pun was unintentional! I wouldn't make such lame jokes."

"Pick up that screwdriver, that table leg's loose as all hell, and get to the point. And don't go near the pantry."

"You got it!" Zelos said as he took tool from near Altessa's work area and began towards the table, "I can't ask Dirk because it kinda pertains to him." Zelos crawled under the table and moved so he was lying on his back to assess the damage.

Altessa watched a horrified expression briefly cross Zelos's face—apparently the list of things they wanted to do to the one who drugged the food scribbled down in pencil was still visible.

Zelos didn't want to know why that was written on the underside of a table of all things unless hitting on that Triet fortune-teller lady had been a worse idea than he'd thought it had been. "Y-You see," Zelos began tightening the screw. Did that say 'castrate with rusty spoon'? Dear luck, it did. "I don't know dwarven customs that well and I need your help to tell me how they work."

Zelos seemed to finish and moved to stand, only to harshly bang his head against the bottom of the edge of the table.

"You're right, boy; you need all the help you can get. So what do you need to know?"

Zelos rubbed his head and carefully made his way out from under the table. "I need to know how to ask Dirk for his blessing to marry Lloyd."

"I doubt he'll mind if you ask him the human way."

"But I want to do it right."

Altessa took in the determination on Zelos's face. "You seem serious about this. Though to my understanding, there's a strong likelihood Lloyd's biological father will be there too. Shouldn't you focus your efforts on pleasing him? His 'no' will come in the form of a sword."

Zelos luckily already knew what to do for Kratos. He supposed he had his lordship to thank for that.

That's right. Not Mithos, but Lord Yggdrasill, leader of Cruxis.

If he didn't always have Zelos wait in the library to build anxiety before meeting with him—a tactic that unfortunately worked—Zelos wouldn't have had the chance to brush up on ancient Tethe'allan customs as those were the only books near enough to reach without leaving the range of vision of someone standing in the doorway; because if whoever was sent to retrieve him didn't see him, they weren't callin' out to him.

But there was a reason he would come here first anyway.

"Dirk's his dad just as much as Kratos. Really he's kinda more, but that's my personal opinion—I've nearly been a spot on the ground enough times for using Lloyd as a taunt to know the old man cares about him just as much. No, I'm actually counting on the old man being there, hoping really."

Altessa raised an eyebrow, "Because if there's a witness he can't 'rain down heavenly wrath upon you', I believe is how Professor Sage put it."

"Actually it's because I won't have the balls to do it two times, but lower risk of smiting's good too."

Altessa sighed, "Fine. First things first, we don't have any real exact set way to go about what you plan on doing. However, we are honorable people—well, as a whole—and a person's word is as good as any of your human 'business contracts' or what have you. Thus a promise made is a promise kept. Now, since dwarves lived underground, you may think we swear by Gnome; though you can probably figure out from experience why we don't."

"Because he's a bit immature?"

"Because he's kind of an idiot."

"Ah."

"There many ways to emphasize the weight of the vow, one of them being to swear by the stone which is to place a hand on the wall while giving the vow."

"What does that have to do with…?"

"Traditionally, a dwarven home is carved out from a mountain so the walls are normally made of stone."

"Ah."

"However, for your situation, the typical custom is to swear by the soil—especially if they have no money and especially if the father is anything like Aurion—which is what you probably want to do. You do it by putting a hand flat-palmed on the ground. Though considering you'll be asking them both at the same time, I'm fairly sure you'll have no problem putting both down."

Zelos smiled, "Thank you, I'll be-"

"If you're about to make any reference to food, a kitchen, or cooking, don't even finish your sentence."

Zelos did not continue what he was going to say.

— — — Present — — —

The silence stretched on and Zelos wondered if it was because they were mentally debating which hammer or sword would be best to off him with.

Finally, Dirk spoke, "Git up, boy, 'course you can; I'm just wonderin' what happened to that skirt-chaser I first met."

"I believe he grew up."

Zelos froze in the middle of brushing himself off at Kratos's words. Kratos's words.

He straightened and looked at Kratos in shock, "Does this mean…I don't have to convince Lloyd to elope?"

Dirk laughed while Kratos looked partially exasperated at the words but knew he had brought the reaction upon himself—having swordfights upon sight does not exactly point to Kratos being the best father-in-law.

"Yes, you do not have to convince him to elope."

"Good, because I really don't think I could do that."

Kratos still wasn't quite sure he could leave Lloyd with Zelos—even if in the back of his mind he knew it had a good deal with the fact that it would mean Zelos had won the ultimate underlying conflict that caused all their altercations with each other—he may have to stay and find another way to deal with Derris-Kharlan.

Zelos could tell from the look on Kratos's face that he had not only won the Lloyd Fight, but had also scored the bonus points to end all bonus points.

Now everyone will have to admit how awesome he is that he was able to keep Kratos grounded.

And if all matters of luck and fate are feeling nice, Zelos's gettin' lucky tonight.

"But you are to remain chaste. If I hear any word of any inappropriate behavior committed by you, I will end you with my bare hands."

"Not if I git ther' first."

Or not.

Damn.