Just an idea that came off the top of my head. Done for the challenge list on ladycordelia17's forum The Moogle Nest, using the prompts The Unhappy Camper and Forbidden Love. Check out her forum if you get the chance!

Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy Crystal Chronicles.


Siegfried sighed, plopping down beside the stump with a rather loud clank of armor. With a grunt he yanked his pack towards him, pulling out a potato. For a moment, Lilty and potato eyed each other warily.

"Stop being such a baby and just dice it and toss it in the pot already," Alicia grumbled as she added some salt to the stew that was slowly forming in the cooking pot before her. The fire crackled merrily in the otherwise silent night, the occasional pop of wood throwing up a few sparks. Despite the dim of the evening, Siegfried's glum face was clearly visible in the firelight.

His pout, if possible, drooped even further. "I don't have a knife," he complained, managing to slump against the wagon despite remaining in full kit. "Why don't you do it? I did it last night." At Alicia's glare he amended, "Last week."

The Clavat let out a sigh of her own as she swept her short, dark hair from her face. "More like two weeks, but who's counting, eh?"

A disbelieving snort was the expected, though unnecessary, answer to her rhetorical question. "I'd like to meet the person who said that Clavats don't hold a grudge, and then I'd like to let you loose at him."

Taking her cue from Siegfried's sudden attempt at lighthearted chatter, Alicia returned to her preparations. "Whoever he is, he's told a lot of lies and probably swindled a lot of people."

"You don't think, could it be?" Gasping in mock surprise, the Lilty raised a gloved hand to his mouth. "Not Gurdy?"

"No!" Alicia said, then burst into laughter. "Gods, Sig, you're a strange one."

"It's a family trait, ask my Ma." With a grumble, Siegfried fished the knife out of his pack. "There, I'm chopping potatoes, happy? Papaopamus driver."

Unable to let him have the last word despite his downcast expression, she tipped several pieces of carrot into the stew and said, "Chop faster."

The look he shot her was one of pure annoyance, yet he said nothing as he finished peeling the first potato. From her position by the fire Alicia snuck a glance at his face. He wasn't even watching what he was doing, just peeling each potato with long, practiced strokes and then cutting them into bite-sized chunks. His blue eyes were distant, finally visible through the tipped up visor. Something was wrong with her friend, she knew, but she'd have to coax it out of him.

"Tell you what," she said softly as she placed the lid back on the pot, "Why don't you get out of your armor? I'll finish the potatoes."

His gaze lit on her, then fell back to the fire. "No, 's'all right, it's my turn anyway."

"At least change out of your armor. That can't be comfortable."

"I want to wash up first. No point in dirtying my clean clothes." She looked away from him then, trying not to show that he'd hurt her feelings with such a terse response.

Silence fell over the little camp, broken only by the slow stir of her ladle and the deep breathing of their papaopamus. Alicia focused on the delicious scent wafting up from the pot. After a long day's travel it would be nice to have a warm meal and a good sleep. Maybe things would be brighter in the morning.

The potatoes were peeled, chopped, and added to the stew by the time Siegfried spoke. "I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for?" Alicia asked, unable to help herself.

"Hold a grudge, why don't you?" He turned away and headed for the wagon.

Piqued, Alicia took the knife from where he'd left it and let it fly. The blade pierced the wood of the wagon not far from Siegfried's cheek, and when he turned around it was with sheer anger in his eyes. Yet, like earlier, the rage quickly subsided into something duller, sadder.

"I'd forgotten you could do that," he admitted softly.

"Apparently you've forgotten a lot of things. Like that I'm your friend, and friends tell each other when something's wrong. Don't think you can fool me; I've been with you for too long. I know something's bothering you." Alicia took a deep breath and wiped her hands on her breeches. "Please, just tell me."

Siegfried closed his eyes. Several minutes passed as she waited impatiently for him to muster his words. When he opened them, the dull look was gone, and in its place was guilt. When he opened them, she knew the news was bad.

"I talked with Roland, during the last festival," he said. "I asked him about leaving the caravan."

It was like a punch to the gut. "But why?" she finally managed, hands balled into fists.

He looked like he had a million reasons on the tip of his tongue, but couldn't find the words. His mouth opened, then closed, then opened again before closing with a snap, and his hand, now free of his gauntlets, came up to fiddle with the artifacts on his belt. He looked like he was torn.

Siegfried sighed. "I'm not getting any younger."

Her confused, hurt expression must have clued him in to her puzzlement, for he sighed yet again. "I'm old, Alicia. I'm nearly twenty-five. I keep telling myself that someday I want a wife, a patch of land, kids, but I'm running out of somedays. It was time."

She'd known he was older than she by a good number of years, but somehow the number made it seem all the more final. "But you can't leave! What about--we're a team. How will Tipa get its myrrh?" Her voice was getting progressively higher and louder. "I can't do this on my own!"

"I know," he said so quietly she had to strain to hear him. "I know that. That's why I asked Roland to find a replacement or two."

She gulped hard. "So… so it's final, then?"

His topknot seemed to droop. "I guess so."

It was becoming increasingly hard to breathe as she found her sadness and shock giving way to anger. "And that's it? You were just going to tell me whenever you felt like it, without so much as even asking me about it?" She stared long and hard into his face. "Or were you even going to tell me at all?"

"I was going to tell you," Siegfried said defensively. "Besides, who said I ever had to consult you about my life decisions?"

"I'm your friend, you jerk! Or I was."

"Let's not make this any harder than it has to be, all right Alicia? We only need two more drops of myrrh. Let's get them and get home."

"That's right," Alicia said, "We have to get you home to your precious bride. Oh, wait, never mind, you don't even have one! And you don't have a patch of land or kids either!"

Siegfried shook his head. "If I'd known you were going to be this unreasonable about it all, I wouldn't have said a word."

"What did you just say?" she demanded, but he wasn't even listening anymore.

"I do have a patch of land, you know," he said suddenly, "The old abandoned farm? My ma's holding onto the deed for me as we speak. And as for the bride, well… I thought I had a girl, but I don't think she'll have me now."

Alicia bit her lip, hands fidgeting with the hem of her coat. "What do you mean?"

He wouldn't look at her, suddenly busy with removing his helmet and placing his gear in the caravan. "I asked Roland to find two replacements. In case you agreed to be my wife."

It was probably the most unromantic proposal she had ever heard. She was still angry about the insult, still smoldering that he hadn't told her about this sudden change, still betrayed that he had waited until now to tell her… and suddenly and unbelievably happy.

"I mean, if you'll have me," he said softly, blue eyes trained on her.

It was wrong. Everything she knew told her it was wrong. There had never been a couple like them in Tipa. Her mother had only approved of her joining the caravan so young all those years ago because Siegfried was 'only a Lilty.' And yet everything she felt told her it would be right anyway, prejudices be damned.

"Yes," she said, blurting the word out. "I mean, I will! That is, I mean, if the offer still stands?"

Siegfried smiled. "The offer stands."

Life wouldn't be easy for them, Alicia knew. They would be the village's main source of gossip for months, years even, once they started having children. She smiled at the thought of children. Would they look more like her? Like him? She couldn't know. She couldn't know if they would succeed as farmers, or if they would have any children, or if they would even be happy at all. She could only promise to try.

"One thing, Sig," she said after a moment's thought, carefully removing the pot from the fire as it was probably a little burnt by now.

Curiosity piqued, he met her gaze. "Yes?"

"Can we talk about this whole 'quitting the caravan' idea? I'm not sure I'm ready to leave just yet."

"Certainly," he said, bringing over two roughly made bowls and spoons.

Inspiration struck as she ladled out the stew, which turned out to be fine."And one more thing."

"Yes?"

"I'm not cooking all the meals."

"Well, damn."