Heyo, everyone. I thought I'd pop back into my favorite Fandom with another installation of my favorite pairing. This is a somewhat different take from the one I had in my multi-chapter. I still say there's a severe lack of this pairing on the internet. This makes Sunny sad…

I don't own Golden Sun.

This is my favorite Golden Sun pairing. Live with it.

Power

It started simply.

"Hey!" She watched over her shoulder as her thick-shouldered friend ran off from the scene of their crime. She boldly looked back over the snow drift at where the brown-clad weasel was picking himself up off of the ground where a flying clod of ice had sent him. He looked like a weasel too, all shivery and sniveling all the time in the snow, his coarse brown hair always falling in his face even when he tied it back. A river rat; that was what he was, pulled from waters which should've drowned him in the south less than six weeks ago.

She hated him.

Clearly he could see her too, her long hair a bright red which clashed against the white of the snow around her. She didn't bother following her friend and running, she just folded her arms where she was standing behind the snow bank as he glared at her with his beady little black eyes.

He hated her too.

"What the hell is your problem!" He shouted at her across the distance, the flat and mildly-clear space in front of the elder's house in the northern part of the village. The buckets of water he'd been carrying up from the river's edge were on the ground, their contents spilt and likely to freeze again soon in the late-autumn cold. She made a grab for a sizable chunk of half-frozen slush in the wall before her.

"You're slow, stupid, and weak!" She shouted back heatedly, meeting his glare with her own as she chucked the ice ball at him just as he started running towards her. It caught him square between the eyes and seemed to stun him, his hand-me-down boot slipping on the iced ground and sending him toppling down onto his backside again. She gave a shrill, mocking laugh, and finally turned and raced away, allowing the stupid boy from Vale to simper and probably go off crying to his mother.

Things didn't change.

Swords were an idiot's weapon. They were heavy, bulky, and swung around like clubs, and she hated having to practice with one. The fact that he didn't hate them and that he happened to do well with them just made her hate them all the more.

When they met on the training pitch the first three months of training, four after he and his family had first arrived, it had been a celebrity affair for her. She'd dance around his wide swings and weak parries and leave him with bruises and sprains. Training ended for the heavier winter months however, and come spring time she could have committed murder. He gained a full hand-span on her and at least a stone of muscle from chores she couldn't name, and she was humiliated.

Matches involved the entire class forming a ring around the two opponents, and then they come at one another and meet in the middle. On the very first clash of swords, she found herself with her feet in the air and her eyes turned skyward. On the second, her face hit the snow. On the third rush she finally held her ground, and their practice swords were solidly locked for a power struggle she thought she could win.

"Stupid oaf," She grunted through her teeth, realizing with a sinking feeling that he wasn't giving the struggle his all as he smirked at her nastily.

"Cocky bitch," In order, she was shoved back from him, took a knee to the gut, a sword pommel to the nose, and was held down by the point of his dull practice blade before she was finally made to admit defeat.

She could've killed him, and by the look in those weasel eyes, the feeling was mutual.

He wasn't normal though, so that made up for their mis-matched strength over the many months of training and generally being in the same village as one another. He couldn't create fire, couldn't warm his pink, shivering hands with a nice little flame. And he couldn't put out the fire she set crawling up and along his cloak until she stopped feeding it and let him douse it on the snow. Watching him howl with pain and fear as he rolled like a mutt on the ground was well worth the scolding and slap it earned her from their instructor.

Then everything went screwy…

She was thinking about him, a lot. How could she make him miserable, what sort of stupid habits did he have that she could use to her advantage? Did he even have habits? She started following him around to gather information, as dull as his life would surely be, and as aggravating as the very sight of him was, she did it anyways. On the flip side, it could give her ample opportunities to harass him endlessly in their day-to-day lives.

But for some reason, it really didn't.

The first day tailing him, he went into the village centre where a group of men were all helping to replace an elderly couple's roof now that the winter snows had gone. He wasn't just there checking things out either, she blinked from down the lane as he reported in to one of the men in charge of the group and was sent straight up the ladder with a hammer, a pouch of nails, and a load of roof shingles. There wasn't much point tailing him for the next two days really, since that was how long it took for the roof and one of the walls to be repaired. The last bits of tar were just beginning to dry before the first spitting drops of rain hit the new tiles for a mid-spring sleet storm.

His life seemed to revolve around a few very key things; chores from the elder and his parents, training with her and the other village youths, performing random jobs around town, and sitting for hours on end on a stupid rock out behind the elder's house. That last one left her stumped as to what the hell it meant. He didn't watch the clouds, didn't talk to himself, didn't read, he didn't even move. He just sat there, eyes closed, hands on his knees with his head bent down slightly and shoulders straight and back. This anomaly in his day left her ready to chew through stones wanting to puzzle out the meaning, and gave her very little cannon fodder to use against him in the ring.

The bastard turned sixteen two months before she did, and that irked her. She could've sworn she was older than him, and it hit her pride to find herself younger. Over the summer he grew differently from the other boys, adding more breadth to his shoulders and more mass to his arms and legs while the rest of them simply grew taller and lankier. Men from his village just grew differently, some said, and he impressed the other young men sometimes with brute strength which allowed him to win most of the more rowdy games. By the end of summer it finally became nigh impossible for her to do much more against him in armed combat than dodge incoming strikes with that stupid club-like sword.

She couldn't very well make a proper insult out of him sitting on a rock for hours without being sure what it even meant when he did so. At least not in front of everyone else. Instead, she finally decided to come at him when he was alone, and in the middle of sitting on his no doubt freezing weasel ass on that stupid rock surrounded by tufts of brown grass in early autumn, a full year after his unfortunate arrival.

"Ass numb yet?" She called in a condescending tone, absently twirling a lock of her crimson hair between her bare fingers as she lazily sauntered towards him. The quiet glare of the mid-day sun was almost deafening to her ears.

She liked her hair long as it was, short hair in the village was the sign of a woman who had sworn off the home and would live her life by fighting and nothing else. Her sister wasn't like that, she fought and was good at it, but her sister still had intentions of finding a man and having a family… eventually. She herself didn't have any cares at the moment, she wanted strength, but didn't really intend to live by the blade.

"What's wrong, Weasel? Too cold to move anymore?" She dropped the length of her hair and trailed her fingers up her bare lower arm, the white cuffs of her shirt beginning at the elbows to cover the scaly hide which bubbled up along her shoulders and nape.

He didn't respond to her bait, and that sparked her temper. If he heard her, he didn't move or let her know in any way, and that galled her. Her eyes narrowed, and she stopped sauntering and began marching directly for him, regretting that the snows hadn't returned yet so she could peg him between the eyes with a piece of ice.

Some nice, sharp, ice.

"Why you stupi-" Her words were cut off in her mouth as she felt a sharp jolt beneath her. The earth abruptly fired up under her left foot and sent her backwards for all that she was supposed to be level ground, without even a layer of ice for her to blame the fall on. She yelped in surprise as she half-caught a glimpse of white rings spinning rapidly about his seated form.

Woah, wait, hold on! He couldn't do that! He wasn't normal; he couldn't summon fire or anything! Why were there-

She hit the ground on her back with a hard thump, but again it wasn't flat, and she gave an unexpected shout as her right shoulder struck something hard, like stone, before the rest of her was near the ground at all. And it wasn't just landing on it either, there was an upward force from the lump which turned it into a strike, and sent her onto her side and left her in a stunned silence.

He chuckled.

Red, she saw red, crimson, bloody red. It streaked itself across her vision as she was instantly on her feet and charged at him, hands pulled back like claws to rip his filth-coloured eyes out of his head. There were rings of psynergy around him, following him as he stood, placing one gloved hand on his hip and smirking cruelly at her. The sight of those rings made her blood boil; and his expression didn't help in the slightest.

A powerful surge of energies she'd never felt before coursed through the ground, causing a violent rumble before she felt herself pitching forwards when her foot sunk into what was supposed to be solid ground. In a flash, he was right in front of her, knees bent to lower him just enough so that when his elbow came up it struck her just below the ribs. She choked as the wind rushed out of her lungs, but brought her other foot forward just in time to keep from falling to the ground.

He wasn't expecting her to remain upright, or for her to suddenly step up and ram her head into his face. The muffled shout of pain and the splutter of blood along his upper lip made her lips spread in a nasty smile when she looked up and saw the rings gone with his broken concentration. So this was what he did; he conditioned his mind in the cold he hated to build stamina for his powers. She hadn't even known he'd had any to begin with.

His gloves, jacket, and scarf all came off soon enough as they continued trading blows until they were both bloody or bleeding. He clearly had no intentions of taking care with her since she was a girl, catching her under the chin with his wrist at one point, and not hesitating to punch up into her stomach more than once to try and wind her. She didn't fight like some small girl either, punching and never slapping, preferring to aim her knee for his gut or face over striking the more sensitive parts of his anatomy.

He was built like a damn wall, and she felt her anger with him both boil over and drain away at the same time. A firm jab in the center of the chest which should've sent him stumbling backwards with pain earned her a flinch and little more. Hooking her booted foot behind his and trying to twist and trip him just unbalanced him.

He dwarfed her with physical strength, it was true, but that didn't mean he could do much to her. She was smaller than him, and could successfully keep out of his grasp before he could land more than a few solid hits at any one time. She could get behind him and jab, punch, and elbow any number of tender, exposed points along his shoulders and neck. She hit points which could make an arm go numb, his head throb, or his vision to temporarily black out. Anything more than crafty little tricks and annoying jabs however just didn't work against him. He was a fucking rock.

A rock, ironically enough, was what ended the fight too. Two rocks actually, two rocks which went whizzing through the air one after the other and struck hard against first his temple, then her's just as he'd finally managed to get his arm around her neck in a powerful hold. His weight was baring down on her and she was about to feel her legs give out and have him topple onto her in an all out win, and then she heard him bite off a sour curse just before pain blossomed on the side of her own skull.

"Karst! What in Mars' name are you doing!"

"Felix! Stop that this instant!"

"Aw, a shame, things were just getting goo- Damn it, Menardi!"

Karst didn't look up as Felix's hold on her abruptly vanished and she dropped to the ground in an exhausted heap. Her heart was in her throat and her face and body were sore and stinging from the fight. She hardly bothered to do little more than give Menardi a slanted look as her sister's crimson eyes bored holes into her from above. Dressed in brown wool slacks and a loose white shirt, her sister's blonde and red-streaked hair was braided over her shoulder, crimson clan markings cupping her chin and spreading over and under each eye. Saturos was somewhere out of sight grumbling, and judging by the slight bit of red spreading across the back of her sister's hand, Karst could hazard a guess that he'd been smacked a moment before.

Felix's flame-haired mother was beyond her line of sight, berating her son about proper behavior and winding herself up in a tizzy about how he was supposed to be training himself or something stupid like that. What was inappropriate about a one on one fight?

"Too much blood; open up." She pushed herself up onto her hands and knees, sitting back on her feet as she felt her sister's touch on her head. She opened her mouth as she was told, and bit back a startled yelp as Menardi's hand abruptly tried to shove itself inside. She felt around inside her sister's mouth in an intrusive manner before Karst finally recognized a resonating pain from her jaw, and a sharp yank and yelp later, a bloody tooth was being examined in the warrior's palm.

"Wait, you still have some of your milk teeth? This is a child's tooth." Karst went absolutely crimson, the Valean mother abruptly beginning to ream her son out for knocking out a tooth, but not before a deadly blow to her pride had been dealt.

Felix choked on stifled laughter.

Karst set his cloak on fire. If Menardi smacked out another tooth, so be it.

And things just kept getting stranger…

She disappointingly reached her seventeenth year two months after him, as though hoping she'd age first could actually change her birthing day. The other boys in the troop began to thicken at last and stopped feeling so ridiculous around their pink, shivering companion and his wall-like build. Their numbers also decreased by nearly half, many young men and the other young women who'd been a part of their group slowly drifting away from the rigors of militant training and going off to find different places in the village. To put it in perspective, two new houses were built that spring, and the old women in the village got to coo and coddle babes who weren't even their grandchildren, just for the sake of holding new life again.

They stopped harassing one another, verbally at least. They'd grown out of the stage of petty words and silly insults such as 'Ogre', and 'Bitch', and it had become almost acceptable at random points times during the seasons for them to just suddenly throw down the gloves and beat the living daylights out of one another.

And she didn't start all of them either, they practically hounded one another for reasons to just beat on one another; be it kicking him off a ladder or tripping her into the river, they just couldn't help it. Menardi had given up on punishing her or telling her off for it long before now, but he still got an earful every time word drifted back to his mother of a fight, or one of them happened to have a split lip or swollen eye that Saturos didn't remember being dealt during training matches.

The hate changed too. Oh, there were still times when she was inches from killing him, and vice-versa. If he'd dropped dead of some disease or a freak accident around the village, she wouldn't have cared in the least. But, the hate was still… different…

"C'mon, Shiva went an' married Icarus over there," She just gave the idiot next to her a very level look, not even dubbing him worthy of a glare as she took a sip from the steaming mug in her hands. The first of the late-autumn storms was beginning to blow in from the north outside, and the final round-robin-style session of training matches had ended for the season already. Without being asked, one of the young men who had been tossed around by her in the final matches was seated across from her in the inn, and was suggesting at least one way to fill up the hours between now and next season.

It wasn't that he looked bad, no, not quiet. Sure, his face was a bit beaten up after the day's activities, but all in all he wasn't hard on the eyes. His red eyes were the colour of the red flowers which managed to crop up during the short summer, and he had a silvery tint to his skin which shimmered in the red light of the inn. No, not bad looking… but his gall could have given ulcers to a cow.

"Y'know, I only let you win today." No, still not worthy of a glare, although it took a bit of effort to keep her eyes from narrowing as she tilted her mug back again. "Think of it as an… engagement present."

"Not interested." Was the blank answer to the… less than subtle suggestion. She spoke into her mug as she waved one hand dismissively towards him. A sign to either change the subject, shut up, or get lost.

"Oh, but I think you are. Yeah, you're defiantly curious now. I can see it in your eyes." The ones that were trying to gauge just how hard it would be to take down a man whose arm was in a sling? Sure… "You're hot for me, Karst, I know it, you know it. What? You think I won't give you kids? I can give you a… preview, y'know. All hush-hush and the like…" She closed her eyes, she had to, and she also had to set the thick tankard down on the inn table to keep from clubbing him over the head with it.

"Look, will you just-" She didn't get a chance to tell him what he could 'just' do, especially not as a steaming hot mug of cider was abruptly upended- supposedly by accident, given the up-endee's face- over the young stud's head.

A number of painful shrieks and panicked yelps later, the seat across from her was vacated with surprising speed. Roughly two minutes later, she knew that she ought to be riddled with disgust, but for some reason she couldn't make it real as she watched the most hated man in the world work. Felix was timidly cleaning up his spilt cider with the mop the Innkeeper had held out to him accusingly. A number of the inn's other patrons were chuckling slightly to themselves about his clumsiness, but she didn't have anything productive to add to those murmurs. So, despite the prime opportunity in front of her to be downright nasty… she let it pass.

Besides, despite his words and manner, Felix didn't look sorry at all.

Finally it stopped making sense…

For some reason she ended up returning the favour to the man she downright loathed. In fact, it was returned at least three times, and in at least one instance it hadn't even been his wish that she intervene. Especially since one of those instances had involved distracting him and the skirt-swishing twit by sending him face-first into the river with a swift kick.

Well, she did hate him after all. So what she wanted would always be a tad more important than what he did.

Life for the most part wasn't much cause for celebration that year. Then again, there hadn't been much cause for any celebration in a good long while anyways. The storms that winter were fiercer than they ought to have been; which was a cause for general concern. And the southern seas had opened up even less than in previous winters. Of course, the passage had been too treacherous for over ten years anyways for anything more than tiny, impractical vessels to hope to make it through to warmer waters. Prox had learned to become more self-sufficient with time, everyone slowly sinking into a state of mutual poverty as the economy ground to a halt and blah blah blah...

There was talk of change however, something she generally didn't listen to as it sounded boring and blown out of proportion. She was sure that anything important would come to her through her sister, who -up until that point- hadn't had anything really special to pass onto her, save the occasional -and unwanted- update on how the town's Hostage-like Guests were doing.

Lo and behold; despite everything else the bastard still turned eighteen exactly fifty three days before she did. When her sister chose to remind her of this fact since she knew how it galled her, Karst would simply huff and go back to whatever she'd already been doing. Be it braiding her hair, sharpening her practise sword, or washing dishes. She'd effectively tune out her sister and those sly little comments.

Idiot.

And when it all came to a head… it…

Well, it stunned her to say the least. She didn't know why, but when she heard the news it was as though a certain wall-like someone had taken a prime swing at her and left her breathless. Actually, it was exactly like that, right down to the numbing pain which blossomed in her chest. It felt tight, twisting, and maybe even a bit frightening with its intensity.

Those rumours of change hadn't been just idle talk. Things were actually changing; a mission forgotten after three years of petty fighting and spiteful rivalry was being brought back to the forefront.

"Why's he going too?" The question shocked her. It drifted past her lips before she could stop it, and she found her sister's crimson eyes looking into her rose one's questioningly, curiously.

"He's Valean." Was the simple answer, somehow it sounded hollow to her ears. "He'll know his way through the sanctum, and he's strong enough to make the journey. We can't ask his parents or that other one; you should've been able to figure that out, Karst."

Figure it out, sure, yeah, it made sense. What didn't make sense was the numb feeling; it wasn't going away.

It was still there the next morning too, and she stayed at the house only long enough to make sure the fire would be burning brightly for her sister when she woke up. She left a kettle ready and waiting to be put on to make her some tea, and all of the ingredients for breakfast prepared and laid out in a large bowl. She wasn't sure when her sister would get up, so it was better to leave things uncooked than run the risk of their going cold on the table.

Then she left, she didn't go very far in truth, but she left the house, walked through the late autumn snow as her feet took her where they willed, instead of the other way around.

All three were leaving; her Sister, her Mentor and… him. What was he, anyways? It was surprising how she kept asking herself that.

Weasel, River Rat, Mama's boy, Bastard, Ogre, Weakling, Rock, Klutz, Oaf, Pinky, Wall, Idiot, Earth-freak, Tree-hugger, Rock-boy… The list went on and on in her mind. But for some reason they didn't sum it up quiet right. Not even Rival fit just right.

It wasn't until the green shingles of the Elder's home came into view that she realized where the hell she was headed. And all it took was that little mental click for her to abruptly stop walking, kick herself around on her heel, and begin walking away. She had no business or reason for going there, so she wasn't going to bother them so early in the morning. She could just wait for Menardi to wake up, and then make their breakfast instead of just leaving all the prep work done.

It was only avoidable for so long…

And it only took three days for all the preparations to be completed. They were going to travel by land to reach Vale, and then once they had the stars everything would go from there. Her sister and Saturos had explained how they'd already set a loose plan to follow based on where the Lighthouses –all four- were located across the world, and how they planned to end up with Mars last, thus bringing them effectively back home.

On the morning they were supposed to leave, the bastard was late for the send off. She almost screamed in frustration as the day was bad enough already. What should have been a grand affair with banners waving and the entire town turned out to cheer them as they left, wound up as only a handful of anxious townsfolk standing out under a sky dumping snow and rain on them all.

"You smug son of a bitch!" She seethed, her hair soaked and sopping across her face as she hadn't tied it back that morning. In part, maybe she was glad for the rain today, as it hid the frustrated tears leaking from her eyes to see her sister and Saturos readying themselves for a second run at a terrifying mission. But now, it made her feel stupid standing in the rain and snow, dripping everywhere and watching as he came trudging down the path looking oblivious to everything around him.

"Oh, I didn't think I'd see you today." He replied casually, if she hadn't been able to see the look of true dread in his earthen eyes, she would have struck him.

Well, struck him harder than she did. She still hated him, after all. His head hardly snapped to the side as the punch landed squarely on his jaw. She gave up and spat an ugly curse into the air as her sopping, useless cloak was too cumbersome now for her to really put some strength behind it. At least he had the dignity to wince and rub the sore spot soothingly.

"Do we really have time for this?" He drawled, intentionally trying to annoy her with his tone, but she could hear a tremble part way through, another sign that he wasn't comfortable in his own skin. It was like trying to pick a fight would bring a bit of normalcy to the situation. Unfortunately, his question killed her enthusiasm instead of picking it back up so they actually could waste their time with one last brawl before he left and took her only family with him. She just dropped her hands, her sopping cloak slapping against her with a gust of cold, harsh arctic wind.

"No, we don't. They're waiting for you."

"My mother was making things difficult…"

"She always makes things difficult." She folded her arms in a solid manner as he opened his mouth to reply. Surprisingly enough, he paused, thought for a moment, and finally just shrugged in agreement with her. She just had to blink at that.

"Ah, my mistake." He said, catching her odd look and shrugging again as though to apologize, "We aren't supposed to agree on anything. I forgot for a moment there." How strange, it felt easy to talk to him for some reason. Granted, they had to speak loudly given the state of the weather. But the words just… came.

"We've never actually spoken to one another, have we?" She asked suddenly, again, before she was really aware of the thought crossing her mind the words escaped her. He was walking towards her when she spoke, came close enough so that she could see him clearly through the rain by the time he stopped and shook his head, a few drops of rainwater and melted snow running down his nose and dripping from his dark bangs.

"Not that I can think of." He commented, before a thoughtful look crossed his face for a moment, then a sour grin. "Three years in a power struggle, and we don't even know why…"

"Why then?" She questioned, her arms still folded as she looked up at him expectantly. He wasn't much taller than her, but he still had that damn hand-span of height. He considered for a moment, before he almost began to irritate her with yet another useless shrug.

"I have no idea. But…" He closed his eyes, bringing one gloved hand up and twirling it at the wrist as though trying to come up with the words. When he opened his eyes again they were only slits, mischievous, hiding something.

"I think I've found a way to finally win."

"Oh really?" She shot back with a snide tone, her voice thick with sarcasm.

"Yes, really. It came to me… in a dream you could say…"

"A dream… How prophetic. Or pathetic…" She answered coyly, rolling her eyes. She dropped her arms from where they were folded and placed her hands on her hips, tapping one booted foot in the snow and leaning forwards to dare him.

"Big words, River Rat." There was a true challenge in her voice,

"Try m-"

He broke the rules, so maybe that meant she won. Won the strange, twisted game they'd been playing for three years. But it didn't seem like it. He treated her like a girl. Actually, he treated her like a woman; effectively drawing the gender card and changing all the rules.

His arm snaked around her waist through the gaps of her arms, and she could practically feel him laughing as his mouth came over hers. The hand she lifted to slap –not punch, since that gender card was in play now- him with was caught with his other hand, and held in an infuriatingly gentle, yet strong, grip which she couldn't break. He had her back bent just enough so that all her legs could do was hold her up, and it took only a sickeningly short time before she admitted defeat.

If it was unpolished, she couldn't tell, not at all familiar with this sort of situation. She didn't even know what to expect from it. She hated the way her limbs suddenly went lax and she had to rely on his strength to stay up, embittered by the loss she could feel upon her. She felt like a fool, but even her own outrage was only half-hearted. At least no one could see them, no one important would know. Besides, it was still pissing rain… and he was warm.

"You filthy weasel, I'm going to be the one to kill you." Were the first words to pass her lips as he let her go as abruptly as he'd taken hold of her. Again she felt a stab of anger, her words sounding breathless in a way that made her feel weak.

"I look forward to it, you angry bitch." To goad her all the more, he was hardly past her before he reached out with one hand, his finger hooking under a soaked lock of her red hair, and touching it to his lips in a mockingly civil manner. She seethed as he looked her over with smug satisfaction in his eyes, he'd won, the bastard had defiantly won.

"I'll take care not to die before then." He said, flicking the lock from his hand before he turned and began to walk away through the rain, waving absently over his shoulder without another look back.

"You'd better not! Now get lost! I can't stand to see your snivelling face any longer!"

He didn't look back at her, but she felt unable to look away from his form as he faded into the downpour, snow and rain dancing around one another in a cold shower which burned as it struck her face. It wasn't until her feet began to grow numb in the snow that she stopped fingering her lips thoughtfully, pried her eyes from the hazy curtain of water where he'd vanished.

Beginning to walk again, she didn't head toward the town gates, Menardi was already gone by the time she came back to herself and started moving. She went home, and it wasn't until she'd stomped off her boots and begun peeling her soaked clothing off that she finally paused and licked her lips once. Only once. It was strange…

She could still taste the power in his touch.

Yay Felix/Karst!

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