A/N: Well, my profile was looking a bit lonely and I've had this story scribbled down in a composition notebook for the longest time. I figured why not? Roy needs a little love around here and I'd like to show my appreciation for Suikoden.

Oh, and I, uh, named the Prince's army the Falenan Unity Army in my game and as I was writing this at three in the morning and nowhere near a computer, I just used that name. Hope you can forgive me for the lack of canon there.

For an uncertain length of time, his nights had all been quite restless. He lie awake in bed, contemplating every small thought that crept into his head as the two people sharing the room with him slept soundly in their adjacent beds. He could hear gentle footfalls outside the bedroom doors and down the hallway as guards went about their nightly watch. Every click of their heel, every hum of the sheath against their clothed thighs… As a bandit, his ears had learned to trust nothing and to keep his mind sharply awake while his body slept. After all, how many times had they gotten up in the middle of the night to move their hideout due to the hastily approaching footsteps of soldiers or of hungry animals out to find their next meal? A few times, they had even had to leave the loot behind because, as their leader, he had taught them early on that he valued their lives far over the spoils of some snobby noble.

The girl at his side stirred, mumbling in her sleep something about wanting to "keep it as a pet". She sighed once and rolled over before mumbling again, "Pretty please, Roy…"

Roy grinned to himself and lay back on his pillow. He couldn't help but think about what brought them here—not just them, but all of these people—united as one army under the command of the person who had single-handedly brought them together: the Prince of Falena. That same prince from that same royal family he'd scoffed at as a child, that same royal family he'd looked upon from afar as a worthless beggar on the streets, wondering deep within his hatred why he had to end up on this side of Fate while that pampered figure-head in Sol-Falena got to sit at the throne while people bowed down at his very presence. It was odd. After all, even as a child, he'd always wondered what his mother would say if Fate twisted their lives together again and she'd seen that he was a bandit. But what might she say instead if she saw him when he went onto that battlefield under the Prince's command, fighting for the future of the nation itself?

He recalled the distant face in his mind—the face of that mother he'd parted ways with so long ago. Naw, he thought after a good while, she might not say much of anything to him anyway.

Outside his window, Roy could make out the moon shining dimly above, casting blaring shadows across his room and found his thoughts too occupied to even attempt sleep.

A sigh.

Everyone else was resting up for the day tomorrow in which the Falenan Unity Army would seize Sol-Falena from Godwin's grip, but his mind was keeping him so awake… Many had relayed the message again and again throughout the castle that all not prepared to see excessive bloodshed the following day should take their leave now. But he knew what they were trying to say.

"The hell with that!" he'd protested. "You think I'd be here if I wasn't prepared to die from the start?!" And as silently as they'd come, the soldiers headed out of his room with a bow of apology… or respect—whatever the hell it was. After that, night had fallen over the castle and everyone retired to bed early. Who knew how many actually slept, but as he sat wondering upon his bed, he knew that so many had so much to live for.

"Ah, to hell with it. I don't mind dyin' out there." He let his eyes stray to the duo still sleeping peacefully. As long as they lived, he'd be okay with it…

When they rolled over in a rustle of sheets, he decided to get up and, without a sound, slipped out of the room. Down the hallways he went, having memorized this little route from many days ago. Dr. Silva had given him a hard time every time he came after visited hours, but he still showed up faithfully each night at least once. The aging woman couldn't help feeling a little remorse for him, but she was hard-pressed on letting her patient rest.

Without a word to the woman doctor at her desk, Roy walked straight to the bed where he found a certain girl resting her eyes, black hair fanned out about her head to rest on the white pillow her body had become all too familiar with these days.

"Roy, I thought I told you visiting hours are over. Really, you younger people must have too much time on your hands to always be in my way."

Roy's golden eyes found Dr. Silva coming at him from across the darkened room and he frowned openly.

"You already kicked me out earlier when the Prince came after visitin' hours and ya' let him stay." She faltered, but only his trained eye could've found such a weakness in that shell. "All I'm askin' for is one visit. I know it's after visitin' hours, but I just wanna see her this one time before the big battle tomorrow." The frown on his face suddenly seemed very serious to her at that moment, and she almost sighed in defeat when he added strongly but solemnly, "Who knows what'll happen to either of us after tomorrow's over."

And there it was; for the second time today, like some sort of odd twist of Fate, another boy stood at this girl's bedside—the other boy only having been the Prince himself—and it could only be Fate that would have the same face staring her down. Only this time, it was not the solid yet silent, cloudy blue of the Prince's eyes that met her protest—but the wild, untamed gold that could only come from these eyes—that wild gold akin to the rich, deep color of the jewelry he'd stolen from nobles. How strange that two faces of such amazing likeness could harbor such polar opposite personalities.

With a resigned sigh, she backed down. "I'll allow it tonight and only tonight. But let her get her rest, Roy. She plans to be in the front lines tomorrow, so if anyone needs their rest, it's her."

"Got it. I won't even wake her, doc. Promise."

Silva didn't bother responding. She turned and made her way out the door.

After he heard the click of the door shutting, he took in the silence around him. For a war, the infirmary was surprisingly always empty. That might encourage some, but having been at the front lines himself, Roy knew the truth behind such empty doctor's quarters: you were either dead on the battlefield or you weren't. It was as simple as that, and everyone knew Lyon was the same way. In what should've been the final face-off against Gobdin (or whoever the hell they were fighting again. These political things never did interest him that much.), Lyon had taken a blow to her side that should have killed her on the spot, but everyone knew she was far too important to the Prince for him to simply let her die. Everyone wanted her to live, and the Prince had been so on edge with her hurt that he could barely keep himself away from her side. But he was leading the rebellion after all; he had much more to attend to, meaning he couldn't always be with her despite his best efforts.

Lyon herself was a hard one to keep out of trouble. Even if she could barely muster the energy to blink, she was hell-bent on rushing to her Prince's side to protect him and make sure he was okay. She was prepared to give her life for him no matter what. She was there for him.

She loved him.

She loved him, and here he was, nothing more than a fake—a replica of the prince she adored. Here he was, her fake Prince, placed tactfully on enemy lines to confuse and alarm the opposing force. Here he was, some hapless bandit plucked off the streets by a power-hungry noble to use for his own selfish gain. Maybe he really hadn't minded all that much, though. Maybe that child, angry in his small, lonely corner of the world wanted to finally snap at the heels of that pampered boy in the castle. Maybe that angry child cast aside by so many wanted to get back at what this Prince owed him. What did he owe? Even Roy couldn't say, but he knew it pissed him off always being told he looked so much like the Prince, 'but who could mistake a ruffian like you for His Royal Highness?' That was it, maybe; he just wanted to get back at that damn prince for stealing his own life away from him.

There was a sharp intake of breath below him as Lyon stirred from her slumber. Her eyes eased open in the darkness and she immediately caught the figure standing at her bedside. "Roy…?" she questioned groggily.

He chuckled to himself. "Damn. Ya' can always tell it's me, huh?"

"What is it? It's so late already…"

"I know. Sorry, I didn't really wanna wake ya'. I just thought I'd come to see how ya' were doin', sweetie."

She yawned to shake off the remaining drowsiness, completely accustomed to his nickname by now. In silence, she looked around at the empty beds of the infirmary, allowing him to follow her gaze there as well.

"Do ya' get lonely around here?" he asked into the silent darkness.

"No, never. Everyone always comes to see me, so it's impossible to feel lonely…" There was a moment of comfortable silence between them before she smiled and added quietly, "I feel so happy that everyone's working so hard—that everyone got this far already." The smile widened and reached right into her sparkling eyes. "I'm so happy we've all managed to get here… that everyone can fight together with His Highness and prevail so quickly."

He was silent, letting her talk to her heart's content, and she seemed to enjoy the silence. Whenever she mentioned His Royal Highness the Prince, Roy found his emotions oddly neutral. There was no pang of anger or hatred or jealousy. She probably wouldn't have noticed either way, but he tried to keep himself in check when it came to that. Especially now on the eve of their struggle's end, he couldn't let this night be stolen by petty emotions.

She continued uninterrupted, "I just hope… after it's all over… that everyone can rebuild their lives to even greater heights than before. I know it's what hurts the Prince the most, wondering why tragedy is what brought so many of us together." A sigh crept its way into her speech and she eased both eyes shut. "I wish everyone could stay together forever, united and unaffected by this sadness in Falena's history… That is what I want."

The moon cast a pale shadow over her eyes as they wandered back to Roy's gaze, lost in thought while staring solidly at the wall across the room. "What about you, Roy?"

He snapped back to attention. "Huh?"

"What about you? What do you want for everyone and for yourself after the war?"

"Hm," he breathed, looking back to the wall. He hadn't really thought about something like that before. It could've been because one didn't really expect much of a future going into war, which crossed his mind as he thought back to what he'd told the guards earlier who'd come to relieve him of tomorrow's bloodbath if need be.

Directly after that, he thought of his two only companions sleeping back in their room. No. He had to live for them. As their leader, he had to do something for them. He was here because he owed a debt to the Prince and this was the way chosen to repay it. They'd dragged themselves dimwittedly along, and so it was his job to see to it that they came out of it alright. Like he'd said, they'd done stupider things before.

He grinned when he answered, "Us bandits've been through everything together. They stick ta' me like glue… I guess we'll just have to start over after this's over… Maybe we'll move to Sable, maybe we'll go somewhere else. Who knows?"

Lyon smiled in response, nodding understandably.

"But don't think I'd forget about you, sweetie. There's no way I'd do that."

She looked at him strangely at that comment, contemplating the meaning behind his words. He only shook his head and his grin widened. "I feel kinda like I still owe the Prince somethin'… Like I've gotta make up for somethin' I ain't done right, but I still really hate the guy."

"Don't talk about His Hi—"

"—Don't worry, I'm not bad-mouthin' him just yet. I really don't want another one o' those talks from you anyway since ya' really got me when ya' yelled the first time."

An awkward silence passed over them but she tried her best to break it, covering her tracks at the same time, "I meant to say… s-sorry… about that… I shouldn't have gone as far as I did to defend the Prince, but I—"

"I told ya' not ta' worry about it." His mouth opened and shut as he hesitated on the next part. "I prob'ly needed it anyway."

"Wha…?"

"I said I prob'ly needed it. After all, it was me that called the Prince a coward and had a bone to pick with him first. He beat me fair and square in a duel that I wanted; so even if I don't like the guy, I was wrong n' prob'ly needed to lose in the first place."

"… R-Roy…"

"But like I said, don't worry your pretty lil' head over it. It's done and over with and I ain't holdin' onto it anymore anyway."

In the light of the moon, he could see the expression in her eyes melt away from shock to joy, the warmth of her own heart seeming to surround her as she beamed up at him.

"I gotta thank the guy too… I hate sayin' it and it's hard for me, but if it wasn't for him, I'd still be homeless, stealin' 'cause I felt like it n' lyin' ta' get by… And just 'cause he helped those two out too." The rich gold of his mind rather than that of his eyes found his two companions in that room. "I just want somethin' good for them 'cause they don't deserve anything bad."

The warmth reached her smile that time. "The Prince will take care of them. I know he will. He can take them in at their darkest hour and give them a whole new life they never imagined they'd have. He can do it. I know it in everything I am today."

He stared at her skeptically but she only put a hand to her heart and nodded to him in assurance. After a moment's hesitation, Roy too nodded his head and let the matter rest. Again, there was no pang of emotion at how much faith she entrusted to this one person; he only truly wanted the best for his only known family—the only people he'd ever considered family at least—and if the Prince could see to that, Roy wasn't one to hold grudges.

Lyon sat up in bed with a little effort and Roy decided to help rather than hinder her efforts, reaching out a hand to support her. But as he reached out his hand, the young Queen's Knights apprentice took it instead into hers and smiled reassuringly despite the puzzled frown on his face.

"Let him build a life for you too, Roy. I won't insist, but you can stay at Sol-Falena with us when this is all over. You can apply for the Queen's Knights even! You're a really talented fighter like His Highness so I'm sure with a little training, you could—"

"Aw, that's alright…"

"—Huh? But why?"

At first, he said nothing to her, shaking his head and closing his eyes as a thoughtful frown overcame his features, but with a grim finality, the fake Prince bandit smiled down at her and shook off any bad feelings he harbored at the moment.

"I told ya' I only have a debt to repay to him. Once that's over n' done with, I got no other reason to hang around. I just want him ta' take care of them for me 'cause like I said, they don't deserve any of this."

Dumbstruck to silence, Lyon only gaped at him in wonder. He patted her hand and untangled their fingers, grinning sheepishly the whole while. "Aw, don't make that face at me, sweetie. I said I wouldn't forget about ya', didn't I? 'Sides, I don't think I'd like life in that big, fancy castle. S'just too far from what I'm used to."

There was a flash of red and black clothing as he stood to leave, giving her a warm pat on her shoulder as he did, and then he turned to make his way out.

Flustered, she called after him but he only kept walking, stopping once at the doorway to flash a noticeably saddened smile.

"G'night, sweetie. It'll be hard for me ta' let the Prince have ya', but I know when I've lost." The knob turned in his hand, the wooden infirmary door now ajar at the threshold. "And don't you go givin' your life for him just yet. If there's anything for you ta' live for, it's him." And with that, he crossed over the threshold, closing the door with decisive finality in his wake.