This wasn't right. This was insane. SHE was insane. This isn't how people fell in love. Nothing about this was right.

Kyle was lost. He had always been a dutiful knight. Straightforward, his conduct almost more proper than Seth's. He was a "stick-in-the-mud" (as Forde put it) and he was fairly proud of that fact. He was also in love for the first time. With entirely the wrong woman.

She was a nut. Completely and totally off-her-rocker. Her eyes had an intensity that burned through whatever had her attention at that moment. She watched and made notes on everything around her. Always stuck in a book or fixated on a small bug or flower, watching it, studying it.

The knight sighed to himself. Nothing about this was right. At first, he had ignored the feelings growing inside him. but they were there. Little hints of jealousy at the attention she paid Artur, the monk. Slight traces of panic while she fought. The way she left him wordless (not in the same way she left everyone wordless), shortness of breath at her presence, a lingering desire to know exactly what she thought of him. He had done his best to ignore them. This was not how the captain of the royal guard fell in love. He, Sir Kyle of Renais, was not, NOT in love with Lute, the psychotic scholar mage. In this light, he did his best to ignore the longing in his heart.

He ignored them. Until the dreams. He stopped ignoring them when he started dreaming about her. The first dream had been innocent enough, innocent and so very life-like.

He was sitting, cleaning his armor in the barracks when she walked in, nose in a book.

"Hello Lute." He said with a smile. Lute looked up at him, a smile on her face and her intense eyes fixed on his own.

"Sir Kyle." She replied, using her index finger as a bookmark as she walked over to him. "Polishing your armor?" she asked, her voice as light and inquisitive as ever.

"Yes." He moved the breastplate to allow her room to sit down. She did so, leaning her back against his arm as she finished reading. He listened to her hum to herself, slightly off-key and muttering random phrases in other languages. The sun shone through a window. It warmed the room, inducing a calm, sleepy effect, such that Kyle set his armor aside and wrapped and arm around the mage. She giggled a little, looked up from her book, and kissed him.

That was when Kyle woke up. He's lips still tingling from dream-Lute's kiss. After nearly a month of dreams like that. Kyle had given up denying it. He even admitted his feelings to Forde as the man painted

"Lute? Seriously?" The blonde looked up from his brush, "Is the great and constantly serious Kyle pulling my leg?"

"No." Kyle said, "I really seem to have developed feeling for her." Forde's response was to double over in laughter.

Not wishing to be a hypocrite, (he and Forde had spent almost everyday since the end of the war dropping "little" hints at the General that he should just ask the Princess to marry him already) Kyle had decided that the best course of action was to tell Lute how he felt. But she was never alone. Every where she went, there was that damnable Artur.

She watched him. She was always watching the monk, and Artur was clearly in love with her. The red head smiled at her, brought her little flowers and Kyle had heard him pray to the Gods for Lute's well-being more than he prayed for anything else. Lute, was oblivious. She was forever writing in that little book of hers. She'd glance up at Artur, say something, the monk would blush and she'd scribble down another note. Kyle thought he'd go mad with jealousy if he didn't get to talk to her alone for five minutes.

His schedule went nuts. Morning: Wake up, wake Forde up. Look for Lute. Find Lute in the dinning hall eating, with Artur. Attempt conversation, fail. Go wake Forde up. Eat breakfast. Wake Forde up. Make Forde eat breakfast, clean armor. Wake Forde up.

Afternoon: Find Lute in Library, walk up to her. Find that Lute is intently watching Artur pray. Wait for Artur to finish. Listen to them talk. Wonder if Lute is in love with him. Wake Forde up. Train new recruits. Wake Forde up. Chess with Ephraim. Wake Forde up. Drop hint at Seth about Princess Eirika. Wake Forde up. Find Lute. Ask Lute if she would eat lunch with me. Recieve nod. Be overjoyed. Hopes crushed to find Artur sitting with us.

Evening: Look for Lute. Find Lute. With Artur. Eat Dinner, watching Lute from Afar. Speak with Ephraim about courtly things. Drop more hints at Seth. Return to barracks. Tell Forde to go to sleep. Dream about Lute.

"Sir Kyle?" dream-Lute asked. Stepping into the barracks. They were alone, the setting sun sparkled through the window.

"Yes Lute?" dream-Kyle asked. She smiled at him, those intense eyes focused on him, brighter than the sun. Her blue cloak danced around her legs as she walked over to him.

"I've been studying the life-cycles of butterflies lately and...I noticed something sad."

"What's that?" He asked, pulling her into his arms. She was warm and snuggled in against his chest.

"They live for such a short period of time that, a butterfly will never find real companionship. I don't believe butterflies think about that sort of thing. But..." she paused and bit her lip in thought, "for some reason, it made me think of you."

"Did it?" He asked, a little surprised.

"Yes. See...I'm a mage of supreme brilliance. But, if you were to die in battle...there's nothing I could do to bring you back." She squeezed him tighter before breaking apart and looking up at him, "You'd be like a butterfly. Your life cut short before you found real companionship." She smiled softly, that mad look that drove him nuts. "I'm sorry. Its not like me to be sentimental." He laughed softly, putting his right hand on her cheek. She covered it with hers, nuzzling into his palm.

"I've found companionship, Lute," dream-Kyle reassured her, pressing his lips to her forehead, "In a mage of superior brilliance and skill."

Again, he woke up as she lifted her lips to his. This had to stop. He couldn't take it anymore. Something had to give here. Either he'd get her alone and talk with her or else he'd talk to her in front of Artur. Modesty be damned. His thoughts were getting more and more un-knightly as he watched her study and interact. The way her dress fit, the gentle slope of her shoulders... It had to stop before his dreams got any more detailed.