This is a fic I wrote for Rosa Aquafire some 6 years ago. I liked it, so I decided to polish it and post it here.
"Matthew, wait up!"
Matthew sighed as he turned around and found himself staring into a pair of familiar purple eyes. Great, as if things couldn't get any worse. Traveling through the woods after a storm was the last thing he wanted to do, and his traveling companion wasn't making things any easier.
"Serra, why can't you just try to walk faster?" he asked. "Then you wouldn't fall behind."
"You know I can't run very fast in this outfit, or I could trip and get hurt!" Serra complained. Matthew sighed, running a hand through his hair.
"Well, maybe you should consider other clothes for fighting in, then," he said.
"But I am a noble and beautiful servant of Saint Elimine, I always must look my best!" Serra said.
"Right. Because everyone is so concerned with what you wear while they're out fighting for their lives," Matthew said sarcastically.
"You are so mean!" Serra pouted. "Why do you always have to say such cruel things?"
Matthew rolled his eyes.
"I don't have time to argue with you, Serra," he said. "We've already fallen behind the others as it is, and you're not making it any easier with your complaining, or jumping at every little sound you hear."
"Well, it could be an enemy sneaking up on us!" Serra argued. "We're in the middle of a war, you know!"
"Be that as it may, you really need to calm down," Matthew said. Serra pouted.
"Lord Hector isn't paying me enough for this," she grumbled. A hard smacking sound was heard as Matthew's palm met his forehead.
"That's all you care about! Money and riches and living like a queen!" he yelled. "Don't you ever think about anything else?"
"For your information, yes!" Serra turned around, her expression instantly growing serious. "My biggest wish, even more than all the riches and vassals in the world...is for all the fighting to stop!" she said. Matthew blinked.
"Serra?"
"I'm sick of this war, Matthew! I hate violence and looking at all those dead people makes me sad!" Serra sighed. "And even we've lost a few people already!" Matthew's chest tightened at the memory of Leila.
"I know," he said.
"So all I want is for the fighting to stop so we can go back to our normal lives. I don't want anyone else to get hurt or die," Serra said.
"...And all this time, I could've sworn you had a one-track mind," Matthew said. Serra crossed her arms over her chest.
"Just because I want nice things and love myself doesn't mean I'm heartless!"
"I never said you were heartless. I thought you were selfish," Matthew said. "But maybe I was wrong."
"Of course you were!" Serra smirked. Just then, her nose caught the scent of smoke...it reminded her of incense or burning wood. "Hey, we haven't fallen that far behind after all! This must be where they've set up camp!"
"...You're right! I hear Guy's voice," Matthew said. "Come on, we can get there before they notice we're late!"
"Right!" Serra gleefully latched onto his arm as they walked to camp. Matthew closed his eyes, shaking his head. Something about her was beginning to get under his skin, and he knew if he wasn't careful he might end up liking that crazy girl.
Predictably unpredictable as always, he thought, then smiled in spite of himself. Don't ever change.