Womble: Finally. A break from uni work allowed me to type up this short fic which I thought up at about quarter-to-midnight. It's not really that great, but it's been AGES since i actually bothered writing anything so I thought I'd post it, see if my skills have gotten rusty. Oh, and I don't own Fire Emblem, or else FE: 11 would have had support convos.

Ilyana had a problem, quite a major one by anyone's standards: She was desperately hungry.

Now, while that may not seem to be such an outlandish problem for Ilyana to have, it in itself was not the cause of her anxiety. The problem was that despite having walked past the mess tent, full of Oscar's delicious cooking, she had had no desire to walk in and start eating. She wasn't hungry for food. The problem got even worse; it wasn't that she didn't know what she hungered for instead, but that she DID...and there was no way she was going to be able to do anything about her hunger.

The event that caused her problem had come about in the last battle they had fought against the Disciples of Order. She had been busy concentrating on hitting a general that was causing Mia some trouble with a Bolting spell, when a Paladin had broken past the desperate axe-swing of Brom to charge directly at her, silver lance shining in the sun. Ilyana only notices the charging soldier part-way through her incantation - too far for her to stop safely. Instead she tried to speed up her casting and mentally braced herself for the pain she was about to receive.

With uncharacteristic good-luck, Ilyana managed to quickly unleash the Bolting spell, and with even more good-luck she succeeded in frying the general. Her work done, she turned back towards the paladin and waited for him to strike.

It seemed that fortune had decided to make it up to Ilyana all in one go; just before the paladin reached her, a purple blur flashed in front of her, swinging a long swipe of silver out to the side and severing the knight's head from his body.

As the still charging horse brushed dangerously close to Ilyana and caused her to lose her balance, she decided that maybe fortune didn't like her after all. She frantically tried to stop her fall but instead over-corrected and toppled forwards. As she braced herself for a rather painful bump, she suddenly became aware of two arms spreading out to catch her. And catch her they did, bringing her to a more comfortable stop than the ground ever could.

Unfortunately, this was where Ilyana's problem had occurred. With her arms still trailing behind her, not yet ready to stop her fall, she had nothing to stop her body thudding into Zihark. This meant that her head also continued its journey until it came to rest. Its resting point of choice, however, was the very thing that was now causing her such trouble. Rather than landing neatly on her rescuer's chest, as it would have done if he was stood up straight, or landing on his shoulder as it could have done in his slightly crouched position, it decided to nestle itself just under his chin. What's more, Zihark's shirt was open slightly and that's how it happened: Her lips brushed up against the skin of his neck.

Since that moment, she had been unable to get the spicy, intoxicating taste of his skin out of her mind and she suffered for it - the part of her brain that used to scream for food now screamed for that taste again. Food no longer appealed and the urge to simply walk up to the oblivious swordsman and lick him was becoming almost unbearable.

Sighing in disgust, Ilyana decided to return to her tent, where Mia and Nephenee were currently repairing some of their clothes. Maybe they would be able to give her some advice on how to beat her cravings.

*****

Half an hour later, Ilyana wished she'd kept her mouth shut. Her friends had been anything but helpful; Mia, in her usual cheerful teasing manner had laughed and decided that her new task in life was to interfere in Ilyana's life and try and set her up with her 'crush', giving an approving nod and pat on the back about choosing one of the best guys in the army. Throughout this, Nephenee had sat and nodded a few times, with a tiny smile on her face. Ilyana had thought that Nephenee might hold the position of 'best friend' on her own now. Oh, how wrong she had been. After Mia had finally calmed down a bit and suggested Ilyana try to maybe talk to Zihark a little more, Nephenee, sweet, innocent Nephenee had come out with a comment that had damned Ilyana to a new level of tormented existence. The comment that had caused such anguish? A simple query "If his neck tasted s' good, I wonder what his lips'd taste like?"

Ilyana's hunger had almost roared at that idea, and now here she was, hidden slightly behind a corner of Muston's wagon, watching Zihark and his small 'unit', trying NOT to think of herself as a huntress stalking her prey.

Zihark tipped his head back and laughed at something Brom said, patting the large man on the shoulder, before turning to Edward when the young swordsman announced his frustration at being unable to remove a chip from his favourite steel blade, while Jill sat opposite, splitting her time between watching her comrades and staring at the tree against which Haar had propped himself for his post-lunch-mid-afternoon nap.

Ilyana watched and smiled a little at the genuine affection in Zihark's eyes for his protégé as he swiftly removed the nick from Edward's sword and handed it back to him. Brom made another comment and Zihark smiled in amusement and pride. It was at that point that Ilyana snapped. It wasn't fair! Zihark seemed to care for every single person that happened to fall into his group, yet other than a few meals, he didn't seem to share the same affection for her! And they weren't slowly going mad from a memory of the taste of his skin!

Looking back on this moment in later months, Ilyana decided that it was probably one of the most daring and out-of-character things she had ever done. Stepping confidently out from behind the wagon, she had marched up to Zihark just as he was standing to begin a sparring session with Brom, grabbed his collar and pulled his mouth to hers in a fierce, hungry kiss.

It was at this moment that Ilyana decided that Nephenee was a far shrewder thinker than anyone gave her credit for. She also decided that she was never going to allow her to find out the answer to her question. While the tiny part of her mind that still worked was debating these facts, the rest of it was being blown away by the kiss. It was the most exhilarating feeling she'd ever had, combined with the most intense flavour. Ilyana decided that food was nothing, THIS was worth living off.

The moment came to an end abruptly when Zihark pulled away, a slightly shocked and rather confused expression on his face.

"Erm...Ilyana...can we go and talk about this somewhere else?"

The fact that he had not outright run away screaming comforted Ilyana somewhat, though recalling the fact that Zihark was a near-perfect gentleman (he HAD forgotten to feed her the first few times she had talked to him after all), she knew he would never coldly brush her off, instead they would wander a bit into the woods and he would explain that he didn't feel the same way as her, and her new favourite treat would be denied her forever. Sighing, she nodded, and followed the slightly twitching swordsman into the trees.

She began to day-dream, imagining how dark her world would become in the next few minutes, though one rebellious portion of her brain dared to hope that Zihark might give her a chance to show that she was more than a frail, constantly hungry young woman...she was a frail, constantly hungry young woman that could call on thunderbolts and had decided he was her new favourite food.

She was broken from her thoughts by a soft voice calling her name. She turned to Zihark,

"Yes?"

He reached up and ran a hand through his silvery-blue hair,

"Ilyana, why did you do that? Was Mia giving out dares again and you got caught? Or...or was someone calling you timid and you decided to prove them wrong or?"

"No."

Zihark looked slightly taken aback at her forceful tone,

"Well, what then?"

Ilyana tried, oh how she tried, to look the swordsman in the eye as she finally told him, but she wasn't able to. Instead she looked at the floor and pressed her index fingers together shyly.

"A-actually, Zihark...I..I..I t-think I l-l-l-l...I think I l-love you."

Zihark blinked,

"Did I hear that right?"

Ilyana nodded timidly

By staring at the floor, she missed the relieved and delighted smile that appeared on Zihark's face,

"Well, I think I'd better take you out to dinner when this is all over, so we can discuss it more thoroughly, what do you say, dear Ilyana?"

Thinking back, Ilyana would like to pretend that her ears perked up when they heard the word 'dinner', but she would be lying. Her ears pricked up and she gave a powerful smile of her own when she heard the word 'Ilyana' spill from Zihark's mouth - the way he said it left her in no doubt that he did indeed feel affection for her, possibly more than he gave to Brom, or to Jill or even to Edward. He cared. And he was going to take her to dinner.

"I'd like that, Zihark."

He walked up to her and softly brushed his fingers against her cheek, before dipping his head to place a gentle kiss on her forehead,

"So would I, Ilyana, so would I."

Womble: Well, there we are. Zihark and Ilyana are prolly my two fav chars in 9/10, but they don't get too many fics, so I thought I'd write one m'self. Lemme know if it was ok, cos I'm part way through planning a much longer fic dealing with Pelleas' kingship, the four new Riders of Daein (of which Zihark is one) and mebe an invasion from across the desert. Knowing me, the story will never see the light of day though...