This Fic was written for Fire Emblem MewMew's Heather-Falls-in-Love-With-a-Man challenge. The main pairing will be Ike/Heather, with some Boyd/Mia on the side. I'm giving you fair warning: some scenes will contain excessive drinking, swearing, and comic violence. They will be easily recognizable as "campfire scenes," or otherwise any scene involving Boyd. (I use thieves and axe-men as comic relief in my writing, a theme some of you have probably picked up on already).

There will however be ABSOLUTELY NO LEMONS in this story, as I intend to comply with the challenges (T) rating requirement. Furthermore, in compliance with the over-arching theme of money specified by Fire Emblem MewMew, Heather and Ike's relationship will begin as a financial arrangement and progress from there.

I don't own Fire Emblem.

Prologue:

Braggarts, Buffoons, and Perverts

Heather didn't hate men. She'd just never met a real one.

The men in her home village were a repugnant breed of slack-jawed hillbillies: corn-fed, inbred, brain-dead, buffoons. Not a good looking one in the bunch; Heather could honestly say she wasn't attracted to any of them.

Could you blame her?

Then there were the less than stellar gentlemen of Melior. Shifty-eyed weasels all of them; more concerned with their power and their politicking than treating their womenfolk right. What good was a man who would rather count his gold than lay with his wife? Heather had no use for any of them.

Again, could you blame her?

She had all but given up on ever finding a decent man. The fairy tales she had read as a child were lies, they had to be. Prince charming; what a joke! Princes were pompous, arrogant, obnoxious braggarts. As was any man with a hint of wealth, power, or physical appeal. And those dashing figures that the fairy tales called "charmers," what were they after? In the real world charmers had another name, perverts, and they didn't stop at wooing their lady fair with poetic psalms. They had other ideas.

All men can't be this worthless she told herself as she wandered from town to town, making her rounds, robbing the fools blind. They always were though; that was the problem. Braggarts, buffoons, and perverts: to Heather, it seemed a fairly accurate summary of the male condition…

…or at least it had, until she met the Griel Mercenaries.

Ike's men.

Real Men.

Manly Men.

Capable fighters, reliable comrades, and not bad on the eyes either. Boyd was absolutely ripped. Gatrie redefined the old adage "built like a tank." Shinon was secure enough in his masculinity to traipse around the battlefield sporting the gayest ponytail of all time...and he still somehow managed to look badass every time he fired off a bow.

Of course they had their faults, as did all men. They boasted. They swore. They drank excessively; that just made them boast and swear louder. Gatrie was a shameless skirt-chaser, Shinon was a mean drunk, and Boyd was a bit of a knucklehead. But they were—without question—the best at would they did, and there was an exclusive sense of comradely to be had being counted among their ranks. Heather enjoyed their company immensely. And while she had originally signed on to stay close to Nephenee, Heather's fancies had long since shifted from the unremarkable farm girl to the manly men of the company.

The REAL men of the company.

Now they were making merry by light of the campfire, downing booze and trading stories to a chorus of laughter and mirth. Ike and his staff officers were noticeably absent, Ranulf having detained them at this late hour with security details and mission briefings. With massive amounts of alcohol being consumed and no commander present to maintain discipline, the gathering of mercenaries was starting to get out of hand. The camp was a complete mess; weapons and armor tossed every which way, no class, no professionalism. A stranger chancing upon them would never suspect he had just stumbled upon the best damn company of soldiers-for-hire in the world. Heather wasn't fooled though. She had seen them in action too many times now. She knew what they were capable of.

They were the best at what they did. And what they did was murder armies.

"So get this…" Boyd goes off in between swigs of hard liquor. The axe man is in story-teller mode, bragging of his exploits to a campfire congregation. "I'm just standing on this drawbridge, cut off from the rest of the troops, staring down the Begnion army. I've got a full line of soldiers closing in on me and my axe is TRASHED,"

"Not unlike yourself ya' drunk son-of-a-bitch…"

"Yo Shinon, shut the fuck up! I'm talking here!" Boyd bellows. "So anyways…I'm on this bridge, right? And these soldiers are coming at me. Well…I notice that their general is just hanging back, barking out orders, not doing much of anything in a fight. And that's when I remember…I've still got my hammer. So I'm all like 'MOVE BITCH, GET OUT THE WAY!' And I just start tossing soldiers out the way like it's none of my business. I'm not even hitting them. I'm just lifting them straight up and tossing them off this bridge. "

"He's not making any of this up by the way," Mia struggles not to break out laughing as she talks. She knows what's coming next, and it's hilarious. "I actually saw this happen. Listen to this. It gets SO much better," she chuckles, barely able to restrain herself. "What happens next Boyd?"

"Shit goes down is what happens next," Boyd takes a straight shot of gin. He becomes even louder and more obnoxious. "I'm on this bridge tossing muthafucka's out the way, tripped out on adrenaline. I'm about to beat a man to death with a hammer. I'm in the fucking zone."

"Oh god, I remember this…" Gatrie too now recalls the events of Boyd's campfire story. "He wound up hitting Mist somehow…"

"That's not what happened at all," Boyd protests. "I hammer-smashed this general in the face, and his head went FLYING! Next thing I know I here this god-awful scream. It's Mist. She's freaking out. Apparently I just sent this smashed-open head barreling at her. I didn't even know."

"She flipped a shit," Gatrie belly-laughed. "Funniest god-damn thing I've ever seen. She wasn't hurt or anything; just screaming like she'd never seen blood before."

"Seems like something that would piss Ike off," Heather challenged Boyd. "You scaring his sister like that, and bragging about it after the fact like its some great achievement." She smiled wryly, knowing she was about to get a rise out of the axe man. "You've got balls Boyd, but I wonder. Would you still be telling that story if Commander Ike were here."

"No," Ike's stern, reprimanding voice spoke out. "No, he wouldn't."

An awkward silence fell over the mercenary camp. Apparently the commander hadn't been detained quite so long as they had thought. Nor had his officers: Soren and Titania were back, and they did not look happy. Ike too seemed less then pleased; clearly in no mood to deal in campfire frivolities.

"We leave for two hours and the entire camp goes to hell," Soren face-palmed. "Incredible..."

"I'm so not in the mood for this tonight," Ike growled. "Boyd, what the hell are you doing here? You're supposed to be on guard duty."

"I am on guard duty…" Boyd proclaimed boldly, even as he downed another shot. "Everyone in camp is right here. I'm guardin' em."

"Who's watching the stables?"

"Nephenee."

"And the foodstuffs?"

"Ilyana."

"You left Ilyana in charge of our food supply…" Ike blinked incredulously. "Why?"

"Meh…" Boyd took another swig and fell back into his seat, half leaning against Mia for support, half copping a feel. At which Mia could only giggle and slap him teasingly. "Seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Great…" Soren threw his hands up in frustration. "Now if Skrimir's nonsense doesn't get us all killed, we can still starve to death like proper mercenaries. Good job."

"Pffttt…like you eat anything anyway. You're tiny. I make craps bigger than you." Boyd taunted with colorful language and drunk logic. "Shit…if anyone's gotta worry about starving to death it's me."

"So says the imbecile who just sent a girl with a compulsive eating disorder to guard the company's food supply!" Soren shouted. "I hope you really do starve! I hope you drop dead; I'm sure we'll get by just fine without your brilliance!"

"Harsh," Boyd takes yet another swig, for no other reason than because he can and because he enjoys it. "I love you too man," he adds with good cheer.

"Captain," Ike addressed Titania by rank. Seeing that there was a problem afoot, and seeing moreover that no one else planned to do anything about it accept make witty retorts, Ike took charge of his company. "Relieve Ilyana of her duties. And for the love of God…don't feed her."

"Aye commander."

"The rest of you, clean up this mess! Come on people…we're not amateurs. Swords go in their holsters, not on the floor. I should not be seeing blades mixed with bottles; that's such bad form."

"…What…we're running this like a real army now," Shinon rose up in indignation. "To hell with that, I left Daien to get away from this bullshit."

"Don't even lie," Mia called him out. "You left Daien because Ike beat your ass back into line."

"That I did," Ike affirmed. "And I'd do it again to keep you on the straight and narrow; that goes for all of you. Come on now, I don't ask much, but this…" the commander crunched an empty handle of liquor beneath his boot. "…this is unacceptable. I don't ever want to see this again; my camp in this condition. It reflects so poorly on the company; on you as professional soldiers, and on me as your commander. Don't let it happen again, or we're going to have problems."

"You heard the man!" Boyd polished off the last of his handle. "Clean your junk or he'll beat you."

"Boyd…" Ike glared. "I just might wind up beating you anyway. Or maybe I'll just smack Rolf with a severed head and call it even."

"Rolf at least would take it like a man…" Shinon spoke up, at which Heather couldn't help but burst out in a fit of uproarious laughter.

Take it like a man

To her, the verbal flourish evoked a most absurd and comical image. Buffoonish men—grunting and flexing and pounding their chests like a pack of apes—punching each other silly for no other reason than to prove they could. All the while hooting and hollering like wild animals.

Not too far off the mark from a drunken Boyd.

Take it like a man

Soon enough, she'd be using that line on Ike. And before long he'd be using it on her.

Now at this point your probably scratching your head going "WTF, where's the Ike/Heather?"

Bear with me people, I promise there is in fact a Heather pairing in the making. In the meantime, reviews are very much appreciated.