Second story, first FE fic. Probably not going to get updated to often, I really have no idea where this story came from. But what can you do about it?

Daein troops invaded our camp today. They sent a diversion troop to the east to distract us, and ransacked the camp while we were fighting. They took almost everything, and I mean almost. They left us some food, weapons, and most of our personal possessions that wouldn't help in battle. Ike says they did that because everyone has a heart – even Daein, but Soren has different views. He says they plan to slowly but surely break us. They left us just enough to stay alive, and more than enough to fuel our resent towards them, so we'll keep fighting. He says if they took everything, we would turn tail and run home, only to come back sometime in the near future, as strong as before. This way, we'll eventually run out of food, to far from home, making us easy prey. I have to agree with Soren. Ike tries to find the good in everyone to much. Luckily, I had mixed this journal up with one of my tomes, so it ended up coming to the battlefield with me.

They destroyed a lot of our tents, too. Everyone has to room with about six or seven other people now and they're all so finicky. Soren and Ike are so clingy and MUST be in the same room (Though I don't blame them, they are rather cute together). Rolf, Boyd, and Kieren refuse to let Oscar out of their sight. Nephenee, actually talking for once, said she needs Brom and Calill in her tent. Lethe says the only beorc she can room with is Jill (I think they're an item!), and Reyson says Ike and Mist are the only beorc he could room with. The rooms ended up being as follows – Ike, Soren, Oscar, Rolf, Kieren, Boyd, Haar, Geoffrey, Shinnon, and Gatrie, and Brom in one tent (Shinnon had much to say in protest), Tanith, Jill, Marcia, Nephenee, Lucia, Calill, Titania, Astrid, Mist, and Elincia (Who almost had to room with Ike) in another. Then there was Lethe, Mordecai, Tormod, Sothe, Muarim, Reyson, Janaff, Ulki, and Nasir. Finally, there was my tent, made up of Myself, Zihark, Mia, Makalov, Volke, Bastian, Devdan, Rhys, Largo, and Ranulf. I can't complain about my living arrangements, Mia's here, so it's nice. I just wish I could stop staring at him…

"Ilyana?"

Ilyana snapped out of her stare and flushed. "Um, y-yes?"

"Why were you staring at me?"

Normally, this would be and easy situation to skip out of for the mage, if only it wasn't with the person it was. A quick 'you have a bug on your face' would fix the problem in no time. Not with Zihark, though. It was as if he was part heron and always knew what she was thinking.

"I – ah, I," she began, stuttering unintentionally.

Mia's ears perked up, instantly aware that her friend was in trouble. Mia was fully aware of Ilyana's interest in Zihark – in a friendly attempt to read one of her tomes, she accidently stumbled upon the girl's journal. Playfully bopping the swords master on the head with the hilt of her blade, Mia giggled softly.

"Silly Zihark, she wasn't staring at you, she was staring behind you. At me!" She gave a haughty grin and sheathed her sword, successfully bumping into both Makalov and Rhys in the process.

Ilyana gave a quick nod, thankful that Mia covered for her, yet anxious that she had to finish the charade. "Uh, yeah. She's been making faces behind you this whole time." Zihark was about to ask 'Then why did you have this dreamy little smile on your face,' but Ilyana stuck her head out of the tent and said, "What? Mist needs help with dinner? Okay, I'll help," before snatching her journal and heading outside.

Zihark just sat there, finger in the air as if he was going to ask a question, mouth slightly agape. "It's best not to ask," Mia said calmly.

Most of the tent had gone to dinner, and the only occupants left were Volke and Zihark. The swords master was enjoying the leg room, and was spread out on a pillow. Volke was twirling a knife between two fingers.

Volke was not one for silence. Rather than just breaking it, he smirked for an instant, and then flicked his knife across the tent. It flipped a few times in the air before burying itself square between Zihark's legs, dangerously close to the crotch.

"Volke, that was SO uncalled for!" Zihark spat out, instantly sitting up. He pulled the knife out of the ground and thought about tossing it back at him, but decided against it out of fear out mutilating the assassin.

"What? You were being awfully silent; I figured it would perk you up a bit." Volke shrugged off his tent mate's panic and began twirling the knife again. "So, what's up with you and that sage?" he asked nonchalantly.

Zihark cocked his head. "Who, Ilyana? What do you mean 'up with us'?" Zihark was, for the most part, an oblivious man when it came to love.

Volke sighed, it seemed like he'd be giving the 'birds and bees' talk. As he took a deep breath, Mia popped in, reliving the assassin.

"Hate to interrupt you boys, but Ike and Soren are discussing battle tactics, Mist is worried you're not eating, and Rhys wants to check out that gash, Volke." Silently, she added "And Ilyana's been holding that seat next to hers for ages, and people are getting suspicious."

Reflecting, Mia smirked at how school-girlish Ilyana acted around Zihark. Staring at him when he wasn't looking (And sometimes when he was), constantly writing about him in her journal, and, get this – saving some of her food for him. Oh yes, this was not just a crush.

This was love.

So... yeah, review if you like it. Chapter two shall be up once I write it and stop telling myself how horrid it is.