A/N: I know Seisen is a much lesser known fandom, but if you do read this story, please do review! In such a small fandom as this, reviews are all the more important! This was originally for the "Flying through Rainbow Skies" prompt at fe_contest on LJ.

Anyway, Levin/Fury was intriguing. It was hard to understand Levin's personality in the 2nd gen. compared to 1st gen., but after some research, I discovered why. Between the generations, he's killed by Manfloy and brought by to life by Holsety, at the cost of some memories. That's the reason for my harsh characterization of him in the second part of this fic, if anyone didn't know Levin's backstory.

Words: 2845
Characters: Fury, Levin
Time: During 1st generation and in between the generations
Genre: Drama/Romance

Disclaimer: Everything you recognize belongs to Nintendo, not me.

Three enemy soldiers collapsed before him, dead before they hit the ground, suffocated by the power of his wind magic. Fury watched him fight with the most strange mixture of feelings – for only Levin could inspire in her awe and pride, fear for his safety but also trust in his abilities, and the inescapable pang of unknown love, all in equal measure.

He was so exceptionally powerful, yet barely seemed to think about what he did; the magic came to him so naturally. Fury remembered helping him study, once – he hadn't wanted to at all, but she convinced him. She was just learning to ride a pegasus at the time, and promised him that if he studied like he was supposed to – she was a stickler for rules, after all, unless it came to sneaking away from the palace with Levin and Mahnya – she would take him for a fly on her pegasus as soon as she knew how. He finally agreed. His tutor was impressed with Levin's work, and so Fury kept her promise, and a week later they were together in the glittering skies, still light enough for her pegasus to easily hold the weight.

Now he needed no one's help to fly. It was as if his own mastery of wind magic lifted him right off his feet when he fought with such incredible speed and accuracy. Sometimes Fury could only stare in horror as some bandit snuck up behind him, weapon raised to kill. But he would always notice just in time. He whipped around and blasted the bandit at once, killing him instantly, and relief always washed over Fury like a hot bath. She needn't have worried, as always, but worry she did. Worry was the eternal companion of love, after all.

It was after one such battle, when not only the fighting of soldiers but also the fighting of her emotions had thoroughly exhausted her, that Levin first told her that he loved her. Oftentimes they would spend a few moments together after every battle, passed in quiet peace by a campfire, or in the hustle and bustle of the castle's infirmary room, if one of them had been injured. It was usually Fury with the injury, but she didn't mind, for the one time it had been Levin who was hurt, she would have gladly accepted all the cuts and wounds in the world to escape the pain in her heart at seeing him helpless and bandaged in a cot.

This time, Levin was aiding the overworked healers with his rudimentary first-aid skills. Fury had only a small scratch, really, but it had bled quite a lot down her arm. Levin took her out of the castle so he could wash the wound in the fresh stream. He didn't trust the water in the castle, he said. It looked much too stagnant, and since they had thoroughly routed their enemies that day, there was no threat to them out here, just peace and quiet. He stuck a torch in the muddy ground to give him some light, then rolled the sleeve of her tunic up to her shoulder, revealing the bloody cut. It was vividly red around the wound itself, but the blood on the rest of her arm had dried to a dull brown.

"I'm sorry to always inconvenience you like this, Prince Levin," said Fury, her blush unseen. "If I were a better knight, then this wouldn't have happened."

"Nonsense. I watched you fight, Fury. You killed three men before you were hit, and it was the fourth that got you, and only just barely."

She blushed even more at his praise, and his unspoken concern for her in the battlefield. He kept an eye on her, then, while she fought, perhaps to ensure her safety. Just that idea alone sent a thrill through her poor, love-struck heart. Levin dipped a soft cloth into the river, then dabbed at her injury, gentle so as not to make her wince. He washed the blood from her arm in long, smooth brushes, as if he were painting her skin.

Once the wound was clean, he moved closer to her so he could wrap the bandage. By the light of the shimmering orange and yellow torch, Fury could only see half of his face, and she could make out no distinct expression. She felt his tenderness in the way he treated her injury – each wrap of the rough linen bandage as light as possible, while still secure enough to staunch the blood. Every now and then, she would feel his fingers pass lightly over her bare skin, sending chills down her spine even in the warm summer's night.

He tied off the bandage with a simply but steady knot. Fury moved her arm experimentally and smiled at him. "A job well done, Prince Levin," she said.

"I would give you nothing less," he replied, winking in that charming way of his. It matched so perfectly with the casual scruffiness of his wandering bard attire.

By now, Fury expected their time out here to be quite complete. She made to rise to her feet, but Levin caught her by her uninjured arm, his hand sliding down to hold on to hers and bring her back to the ground beside him.

"When I watched you fight today," he began, in a low voice, "there was a moment… I was too far away to interfere. A man was coming up behind you on a horse. You were grounded, and quite alone, and distracted by a battle in front of you. You didn't see him raise his sword… He was so close to you, his blade aimed at your back, and there was nothing I could do. Just seconds before he would have killed you, an arrow caught him in the neck. Midayle's or Jamka's, I don't know. But the man was dead, and you were safe."

"I – I didn't even know," whispered Fury in desperate apprehension. "I couldn't hear through the heat of battle, I wasn't paying close enough attention – I'm sorry - "

He put his hand over her mouth. "Stop," he said roughly, his green eyes gleaming in the dimming torchlight. "Stop it, Fury, don't you see what I'm trying to say? This fighting that we do is unpredictable. It wasn't your fault that you didn't see him. I saw him by mere chance, and all I knew for those terrifying seconds was that you were going to die, and I was absolutely powerless to stop it. I've never known fear like that before. Not even in my first night after running away from the palace, leaving you and Mahnya and my mother and everything I'd ever known, when I thought I'd die from just the sheer cold."

Fury could barely breathe, her heart was racing so fast. She found herself aching to hear the rest of his words, both terrified and thrilled at the possibility of their meaning.

"I can't let you die, Fury, understand? You can't die on me. I've known you for too long. I couldn't handle it." He met her eyes now. He had been staring at the dying torch as he spoke, as if reading the words from its flaming depth. With his careful hands, he cupped her face, staring into her wide eyes with a solemn sort of promise in his expression. "Swear to me, Fury. Don't die. You can't die."

She had been holding her breath, she realized, at his closeness. She let it out in a rush, breathing her words. "I swear, Prince Levin. I swear."

Levin pulled her face towards his and kissed her lips, softly, sweetly. He rested his forehead against hers and rubbed his thumbs across her hot cheeks, sharing her breaths. "Just Levin," he said. "Please, Fury. Just Levin."

He kissed her again, and she was powerless to resist. "Yes, Pri – Levin." In her voice, just his name, just Levin, sounded so strange to her ears. "Levin," she said again, closing her eyes.

His hands moved to her waist as he pulled her gently to his lap, for he sat cross-legged on the ground. She was able to curl into his body with his arms safely around her, as if she had never belonged anywhere else. He held her tight and kissed her hair, and she didn't know what to do but stay close to him. Instinctively she fisted her hands around his tunic shirt.

How was she to respond to this sudden change? She had always known how to handle this desperate affection when it was merely in her own foolish heart, but now, apparently, it was in Levin's, too. What was she to do? It was everything Fury hadn't dared to hope, so she hadn't dared to plan her reaction. She didn't like to be in a situation where she didn't know what to do next. Even in an unpredictable battle, she trusted in her ability to fight, but here in his arms, she was defenseless.

"Will you say something?" Levin said through the silence.

Fury blinked and shook her head a bit to clear her mind. She had to find some way to tell him that she felt the same as he, in such a similar situation, every battle that they fought. Every time she would see him nearly killed, all breath and all hope would leave her until she knew he was safe again. "I am… familiar with that sort of fear," she began at last. "I have watched you fight too, Levin. I have seen soldiers nearly kill you, and you are the one to whip around and defeat them, and only then can I breathe again."

"You are breathless because of me?" His tone was light and teasing, familiar, making her smile. It reminded her of the love and faith she felt for him, rather than the fear and worry.

"Only a little," she defended herself hopelessly. But Levin could surely see right through her words, for pressed so close against him, he must feel every scant breath of hers against his skin. He lifted her chin with two fingers and kissed her once more, his lips lingering, her mouth opening instinctively to his warmth.

"Do you know that I love you, Fury? I have for quite some time. I was wondering if you'd ever notice."

Though his tone was simple and carefree, his words and his eyes showed him to be serious. Fury blushed more brightly than ever and nodded quickly. "I didn't want to hope it, before, and end up disappointed."

"But you know now?"

"Yes."

"And you? Do you love me?"

Fury nodded again, pressing her hot cheek to the curve of his shoulder and feeling his arms tighten around her, though he was always careful of her injury. "Yes, Levin. I have for quite some time."

He kissed her on the forehead. "Then let us keep our oaths. The only thing we cannot do is die. That leaves so many wonderful things for us to experience, doesn't it? What would you like to do?"

"I would like to be with you," she said, very quietly. "I would like that very much."

"How convenient," he said. "That is what I wanted, as well."

The soft melody of the night, of the trickling stream and rustling grass and buzzing insects, lulled Fury into a simple peace, her surroundings like a warm blanket or a friendly fire. In harmony with it all, she felt and heard Levin's breathing, matched with her own.

As the years flowed by, as more strange happenings occurred in Jugdral than anyone could have imagined, Fury could not help but notice certain changes that worried her far, far more than any others. So far removed were they from the simple days before the Battle of Bahara that she could not help but realize the significance of Levin's newfound disinterest, his contemplative coldness, his disappearances. He rarely returned to Silesia Castle before midnight. He left before the purple sky of dawn, sparkling against the pale snow. If she saw him, he would barely speak a word, and he never saw their two lovely children. Fee and Sety would cling to their mother's arms, but ask only of their father, their eyes wide and sad, and Fury had no idea what to tell them.

One night, she sat determinedly on her bed – their bed – waiting for Levin to return. Rarely did she manage to stay awake, not after her melancholy at his absence had so exhausted her during the day. She refused to light a fire in the hearth, for if he saw the light and thought she was awake, he would not return to his room. Save for the deep indigo of the night sky, all was bland and grey. Her only light was the dim moon, curtained by sheer clouds, struggling to illuminate anything at all. By the time Levin arrived, it had passed its midnight height, and was descending again towards the icy mountains.

He entered the room with quiet secrecy. She could see only his outline. With careful steps he approached the bed, then froze, clearly aware of her presence.

"Fury," he said quietly. "You should be asleep."

She bit her lip to stop its quavering. Then she spoke, choosing her words carefully, wishing she could see his face. "I cannot. Not knowing that you are gone, and will still be gone when I wake, when our children wake, when our kingdom wakes."

"I am not gone. I always return. I am never far."

"But you are never here," she hissed. "What is it, Levin? Is it a girl? Are you seeing someone in a village, in secret?"

At once his dark shadow moved. He grabbed her fiercely and pulled her to her feet, crushing her against his body. She gasped, but he did not seem to notice. His arms were so tight around her shoulders that it was almost painful, almost suffocating her.

"Never," he growled, his voice dangerous, deep, intense. "Never anyone but you, Fury. Do not ever forget that."

Struggling to breathe, Fury pushed him away with all her might. Perhaps he had forgotten, but she was a soldier; her strength had not vanished with the years. As much as she had longed to feel his arms around her, she couldn't let him just walk in and be forgiven simply because her heart was weak and wanting after months of his neglect. She had to know the reason for his detachment.

"Then what is it?" she screamed, and Levin clamped a hand over her mouth lest she wake the whole castle, but she pushed that away too. She pounded her fists into his chest. "Don't you understand? Your children do not know their father anymore! Your people do not know their king! And I… I do not know you! How can you do this to us? If you love us, how can you just - "

Once more he grabbed her, by her fisted hands this time. "It is not a question of love," he said darkly. "That is never a question. It is out of my control, and I cannot explain it. But no matter how I feel, I cannot stay here any longer. I will not return after tonight."

His words, though spoken in a heated whisper, echoed in Fury's mind as if he, too, had shouted. She stared in astonishment. Tearing her hands from his grasp, she slapped him across the face, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Levin said nothing. His face betrayed no emotion. Even his eyes were blank and unreadable, and that infuriated her more than anything else.

"Do you still know?" he said suddenly.

"What?" she spat. She did not want to hear him talk anymore; she did not want to see him in front of her anymore; she did not want her heart to break into any more pieces than it already had.

"Do you still know… that I love you?"

Before she could respond, he had her wrists again, and pinned them behind her head with one hand, pressing all his weight against her so she could not escape. In an infinitesimal second, their eyes met, but she did not have the time to analyze his expression. He kissed her harshly, desperately; and purely out of habit she kissed him back, lost in his piercing caress. His free hand held her firmly by the waist. Helpless as she was, she could think of nothing else but his touch until he stopped after what must have been merely seconds, letting her go, letting her stand alone.

"Goodbye, Fury," he said. "Give my… farewells… to Sety and Fee."

She caught sight of his glittering eyes. A tiny flash of emotion crossed his shadowed features, but it was far too brief for her to read or comprehend.

Without another word, he turned and left. Fury fell weakly to her knees and could not rise again, staring after him and thinking of nothing, her lips still tender and tingling from his violent touch. Her broken heart seemed to skip many, many beats that were never again regained.