...Well damn. I started writing this some two odd years ago, but only now have I had the inspiration to finish it. This began as only an Awakening fic, but now it's gonna be an Awakening/Fates short story

This is based off of one of my male MU runs of the game: he has an adult build, a pink colored buzz cut, and is superior in magic and had strength as his flaw, and in this run he married Sumia, while Olivia married Chrom.

Cynthia/Inigo is the number one Awakening ship for me. Given that they sound very close in their supports (and the fact that Cindy has female admirers, which is quite funny), I always felt that they had a warm and loving bond since childhood. Both of them were shy during that time and are often picked on during the game, so I guess that helps too.

Enjoy this smutty little thing.

Dearest of Friends

Plegia-Ylisse Border Pass

"Justice always triumphs!"

Her joy and enthusiasm clashed with the bloodied corpse of a sage that she had just slain, his entrails sliding out of him. She even did a little twirl on her Pegasus, completely ignoring a chunk of intestines that flew off of her silver lance and landed on her lap.

The children's behavior – Chrom's nephew Owain and his younger daughter Morgan stood out the most– unnerved Robin, but his concern was raised to new heights at his elder daughter's bombastic bravado. Perhaps this whole "hero of justice" act was a method of coping?

His pondering would have to wait.

Robin hesitated that moment when another sage, hidden in a nearby fortress, sprang out with a Rexcalibur tome in hand. A vicious spiral of green-hued gales spun debris and rubble into an earth-shredding whirlwind.

"Cynthia, behind you!

Had Inigo not jumped in to catch her, Cynthia would have been a bloody smear on the cliff side. Robin cringed as he saw her Pegasus slam back first into the rocks, whining in pain and violently kicking. The dust had barely begun to settle when the offending sage was gutted by the end of Robin's sword.

He glanced to the side to see that Cynthia and Inigo chose to stay behind, and probably for the better, as this little legion of bandits was stronger than he had expected. All was well and good, save for the fact that the young man and his daughter were a bit too close for a pair of soldiers...

Cynthia's leg shattered from the fall. She whimpered in pain, her breaths ragged at its bloody state. Inigo looked down at her and saw her face flushing heavily.

"This is embarrassing...he was probably doing nothing but standing there too..."

She let out a moan of frustration. Bandits were supposed to be the dumbest villains.

"We all have our off days, Cynthia."

She looked up and was soothed by the gentle features of her dearest friend. Inigo couldn't curb her humiliation, but his kind words and gentle smile, still lifted her spirits.

"Getting knocked around by a wind spell without realizing it isn't just a 'bad day,' Inigo. I was careless."

He sighed. "You're hardly alone there." He gestured at a bloody laceration on top of his shoulder. "Some rogue caught me when I scaled down the pass."

"We were hardly heroic..." Cynthia let out a weak chuckle.

"Heh, hardly is right..."

It was at that moment that Inigo realized just how close they actually were. He was still clutching her in his arms, and her head was craned back, slightly spellbound by the fierce look in his eyes. His right eye in particular seemed to glimmer in the sun, courtesy of his Brand of the Exalt, the mark that served as proof of his royal lineage.

"Ehe..." Cynthia smiled. She had secretly craved being this close to him. "You certainly look like a hero at this angle, Inigo."

"R-really now..."

He gently let her go and looked away in embarrassment, his face rosy. "Brady's not too far away. I'll call him over."

Inigo slowly stood up and waved his good arm at Brady, who was at the foot of the pass. It took the healer all of his willpower not to trip on the slope as he scaled it, and miraculously he did not. He came to Inigo and began to chant, evoking the magic within his Mend staff. Despite the sting, the beads of soft blue light successfully sewed Inigo's wound shut and stopped the bleeding.

"Thanks, Brady. You're the best."

"No prob," said the thuggish-looking acolyte, smiling in earnest for once. "Be more careful though, ya hear?"

The two of them looked up to see that the enemy had been routed and the veteran Shepherds who fought them were preparing to hit the road again. She gasped as she felt herself being lifted – her father, Robin, had lifted her and took her to the carriage that doubled as a medical tent. Brady trotted over to her, swapping out his Mend staff for a more potent Recover staff.

As Brady prepped the staff for recovery, Cynthia's eyes followed her father. He didn't really inquire about her well-being when he carried her over – he just let out a disapproving grunt, avoiding eye contact. She kept her eyes on him as he stopped, discovering that Morgan had been injured as well.

She couldn't hear a thing they were saying, but they were smiling. He even petted her head.

"This is gonna sting a little, Cindy," said Brady, his face grimacing. "Yer lucky, that's for sure. If Inigo didn't save ya, you'da prolly…well, you know…"

The girl said nothing, letting Brady's magic do its work. Instead, she found herself longingly looking at the swordsman she held dear; jealousy's grip grabbed her for a fleeting moment when he spotted him speaking merrily to a flustered-looking Severa. Meanwhile, Robin, with Morgan in tow, had found his way to Sumia, and judging by their expressions, they were speaking of something serious. Morgan, on the other hand, looked happy and oblivious as usual.

"Don't you worry now, Cindy. Shit like ambushes happen all the time in battle. Yer ma an' yer pa can't be mad at ya." He winked at her, patting her arm in reassurance.

Brady was wrong. Sumia, as gentle as she was, had her limits when it came to blunders in battle. Robin, meanwhile, lacked those limits altogether, as did Prince Chrom. Even if they were to give her a pass for her mistake, the other kids definitely wouldn't, because they, and the other veterans, all found her nutty. Her sister Morgan was the worst – she was callous toward the others, yet even she gave Cynthia grief from time to time.

That grief was the thanks Cynthia got for standing up for that idiot sister of hers. Amnesiac she was, it still wasn't fair.

It wasn't fair at all.

Day: Friday

Month: February

Weather: Cloudy, then sunny

Dear Diary,

So it seems that my intuition about the man I thought was Prince Chrom was off. It was really, really off. It was so off that I'm surprised that no one's laughed at me yet. It's what they've all been doing this whole time, so why not now?

Then again, maybe I should've figured it out when he nearly forced me to take all my clothes off in front of him…

We were all so young when Prince Chrom died, so they have no right to laugh at me! Only Lucina can really remember him, since Inigo says that he was far too little to remember him when his death happened. They have a whole lineage that they're reminded of every day, and Chrom's is among the most respected. Easy to see why only they can remember him.

The same can't be said of my own mom, and dad is -

The words Cynthia used to describe her father were scribbled over.

Most of my memories of Mom are still pretty clear. She was doting and loving and always made the best pies…except for that nasty elderberry pie that always made me sick to my stomach. Lucina told me that she tried to win Chrom over with an elderberry pie. Chrom has no taste! That pie is gross! I had no idea that Mom had a fondness for Chrom either. There she was, seemingly in love, ultimately rejected...but she fought on, like a true Pegasus Knight would. I don't care if she's Inigo's mom and the Queen of Ylisse, Olivia's a big fat weenie compared to my mom.

Dad's almost like a stranger. I can sort of remember him – I can see him – but vaguely.

From what I can recall, he was distant. I don't remember what he did in my time, but here he's the tactician of the Shepherds. I asked him about how he was able to take out that fake Chrom's legion of bandits. It mostly involved hiding in the trees and using the debris that was lying around for cover. They then split into a pincer-shaped formation and came in at once to intimidate the sellswords that the fake was trying to persuade. The pincer part sounded like fun, so I asked him if they cried out before rushing in. I can imagine all of the Pegasus Knights and the Wyvern Riders swooping in at once, maybe in a blaze of fire.

He gave me this weird look. His brows were all furrowed. He then dismissed himself.

I wonder if dad's gonna ridicule me too.

The way he talks is as if -

- will he just ignore me?

The passage between "if" and "will" was also crossed out.

Day: Saturday

Month: April

Weather: Sunny

Dear Diary,

It's been a strange day.

There were no bandits skulking about or civil battles going on today, so when we got off at the pier in West Ferox, Dad opted to take our caravan through the Longfort and head south to Ylisstol from there. Plegia was still a no-no because of some diplomacy problem that Lucina vaguely mentioned some time ago. Along the way, Chrom learned of a rumor of some artifact called Naga's Tear, so we took a detour at some ruins that were north of the port.

Inside was Morgan. Not only was she there, with her Pegasus Rider uniform on and riding some Pegasus I hadn't seen before, but she also had amnesia. My own little sister doesn't remember a thing about Mom or me, but for some reason, she remembers Dad just fine. She says that she wants to be a tactician like him. I, on the other hand clearly remember her wanting to be a Dark Flier, riding on one of those majestic (and rare!) black Pegasi.

In fact, one day, when she was five years old, she was playing chess with Dad. She got so frustrated that she kicked the table over and threw the entire set at him. The lessons stopped for a long time, that's for sure.

That's one clear memory I have of Dad, and he's angry in it.

Morgan read far better than most for her age and was really good with numbers, but there are many other children like that. Laurent is one of them, and he uses those gifts of his far better than she does – even if he can be a meanie.

I remember that she went crying to Mom and begged her to have her take the test to become a Pegasus Knight. According to Mom, there are four ranks that a potential knight must climb through, starting with the probationary flier level. Passing a series of tests ranks her up to a Pegasus Rider, and then a Pegasus Knight, which allows for her to formally enroll in Ylisse's Pegasus Knight Platoon. Commanding knights can then become Falcon Knights, or if they have a talent for magic and there's a black Pegasus around, a Dark Flier.

I think she barely made it to Pegasus Rider when her training stopped and she wanted to be a tactician again. It probably something to do with how evilly my flying instructor looked at her when I began my own training. She probably pulled some stupid prank. She did tend to get bored easily.

Seeing her now was like when I saw Dad again: I'm meeting a stranger. A stranger who doesn't seem very disturbed that most of her memories are gone. My baby sister might as well have come from some twisted Outrealm.

Day: Tuesday

Month: May

Weather: Thunderstorms all day long

Dear Diary,

Chrom is making preparations to meet with the king of Plegia. There's a thunderstorm outside, so today is a rest day for the Shepherds.

It seemed like a fun day to bond. Nah wasn't my favorite person in the world, but bonds bound us together like nails to a cabin, so I told her this cool new scenario that I had: I could ride her like how Gerome rides Minerva. And then we clash! But Nah being Nah, she refused. She said something about my head being in my rear. I really -

She's not as mature as she thinks she is!

Again, a section was crossed out. This time, it was a slew of slurs about Cynthia's half-human, half-dragon companion.

I opted to practice my war cries alone. I am the daughter of a great Pegasus Knight, after all!

Severa, also the daughter of a Pegasus Knight, just had to come in and insult me. She's so icy. There's a reason everyone hates talking to you. You're pitiable. You're pathetic. You're the poor, poor daughter of the oh-so-tortured genius of the Shepherds, forever living in her shadow, and you reeeeally like letting everyone know it, don't you? Why, we're practically the same coin. Character foils, maybe!

Besides, her father doted on her in our time when he was alive. He's doing it more than ever now. How dare she be so spoiled! There's only so much that little miss spoiled ice queen has a say in.

And after she left, I found Morgan unconscious on the ground. She told me that she was trying to jolt her memories awake by hitting her head on the wall. I swear, she's -

"Cynthia?"

It took all of two seconds for Cynthia to slam her diary shut when Laurent came inside. As she hid it, Laurent, gingerly propped up a newly forged silver lance and a Shockstick on the weapon rack near her cot.

"Er...are we heading out for anything?" Cynthia longingly gazed at the two lances. The Shockstick in particular was a rare lance fused with thunder magic, and such a lance could give her the opportunity to test her latent magical potential. It was a shame that they were so rare - three families of esteemed blacksmiths made the Shockstick, the Levin Sword, and the Bolt Axe, and they could not be bought from regular merchants.

"The roads are flooded because of this storm," Laurent spoke, adjusting his glasses. "We're definitely not heading out for the next few days or so, but Robin requested me to purchase new supplies. I have procured these for you."

Cynthia beamed. "And you found a Shockstick!?"

"Yes, but - Cynthia!"

She should have known better, but Cynthia couldn't help but grab the magical lance and admire its sheer presence. The pole was forged with fine silver, and she could see a series of magical glyphs on the side. Such glyphs, with their odd, curved script, were often seen when magical spells were cast – the words were what drew power into weapons and tomes. The blade itself was shaped like a lightning bolt, and bits of steel were cast on the edges. To Cynthia, the weapon was the perfect mix of elegant and brute, truly fit for a magic knight.

With a flourish, she spun forward and punched the air, lance still in hand. "Fear me, scions of evil! Gaze upon my magics, ye wicked, and despair!"

Laurent hid a smile as she posed. That said, the beginnings of a headache spiked in his head. She faced him and grinned.

"That could surly throw a foe for a loop, Laurent!"

"If said foe had the attention span of a cockroach, perhaps..." Laurent sighed.

"Excuse me?"

"Erm…Cynthia, I advise you be careful with that Shockstick. It's quite fragile. According to the merchant, without proper care, it will probably break after casting its magic...hm, twenty times or so."

"Aww, really?" Cynthia's face fell. "Darn...well, if you say so -"

*clang*

It was almost comical at how easily Cynthia fell. As she crossed her left foot forward, she tripped over the lance.

Cynthia hit onto the floor, hard. She cried out in pain at the feeling of the hard marble floor bruising her legs. Before Laurent could react, a large bolt of lightning shot out from the stick, frying the edge of his robe. He cried out in frustration, using his hat to pat down the flames that emerged near his feet.

She made a feeble attempt to help him, apologizing over and over. She cringed at hearing him hiss in anger. The flames on his robes died out, but Laurent was no less upset.

"...As uplifting as your enthusiasm can be..." Laurent sighed, still frazzled. "It can, in all honesty, be juvenile."

"Laurent..." Cynthia's face fell, damn near ready to cry.

He mentally cursed himself, having gone through this before when she fell on him by accident. "Perhaps juvenile was the incorrect word. I understand that it was an accident, and I have observed how you have better restrained yourself, but please, do be more careful around that Shockstick." He gathered himself and stood. "I also assure you that I won't speak to your father and the others about this incident."

Those words were empty, for very little escaped Robin's eyes in regards to who did what. Almost every incident that had happened involving her bought harsh words of judgment from him. It had gotten to the point that Cynthia did not practice super moves during regulated training sessions under Chrom, Frederick, and her father, saving them for later hours.

It was another drop in her little bucket of loathing that no one assumed had existed. An older drop originated during yesterday's training session: Morgan wound up wasting three "Arc-" level tomes doing some odd martial arts training with Nah. Robin laughed and doted on her, praising her efforts.

The thunderstorms had ended that night. Spring had entered its prime, with the beauty of Ylisse's flora and trees lovelier than ever. When the rest of her fellow children went to bed, Cynthia opted for a late-night walk, partially because she wanted to feed her Pegasus, partially because she needed to be alone with her thoughts.

When the Shepherds were due for missions near Ylisstol, the Shepherds' Garrison was their usual resting place. As their next mission was a diplomatic one and no urgency was to be had, they slept in the palace dormitories instead. For the first time in forever, the Shepherds could rest in the lap of luxury and excess. For the children from the future, such a night was a first for most of them.

Behind the palace were the stables for the horses and Pegasi, with some improvised space made for Cherche and Gerome's wyverns and a wayward griffon that they found during the Valmese War. Verdant fields of grass for grazing stretched for acres, with a fresh garden supplying both food for the palace and the steeds. Cynthia, donned in a brown cotton jumper with a small corset over a white shirt with detached sleeves, scanned the stables and found her Pegasus. She was the very same Pegasus that her mother had the honor of riding on, and her name was Est. Like Gerome's wyvern Minerva, Est shared her name with a famous warrior from the era of Akaneia. Though fondly remembered as one of the legendary Whitewings, Est was equally as infamous for her prone to kidnappings and was the hated player of a love triangle that was disputed by historians to this day. Despite all this, Est was a strong Pegasus, having endured more horrors than most.

When Est had returned to Cynthia the day Sumia died, her condition was terrible, mane all tangled and body charred. She did not even notice how much she neglected her until she came to the modern era and Sumia pointed it out to her. Since then, Cynthia had tried her best to lift the weary Pegasus' spirits.

Cynthia fetched a large bucket of water from a nearby well for Est to drink. She opened her gate and gestured her out, brushing her mane as she drank. Normally she would give Est a pep talk, but she felt too somber tonight to do so.

"Do I even belong here...?"

That question kept looping around more and more in her head. Did a juvenile hero of justice belong with hardened soldiers after all?

"I probably don't. The others hate me. Doesn't matter what I've done in the future…when I'm not fighting, they..."

Est whinnied into her ear.

"Hehe...sorry, Est. Gee, your coat's a little matted..." Even as she brushed, Est kept gesturing to her master's left. Curious, Cynthia looked that way and jumped when she heard a loud whumph.

"Oww..."

A curious Cynthia gestured Est to stay put and ran over to the source of the noise. To her surprise and hidden delight, Inigo was sitting on his rear, letting out kitten-like whimpers in pain.

"Inigo!"

The young man looked up and cringed. His embarrassed flush went unseen by the Pegasus Knight as she happily sat by him.

"What's with the face? Was it you that fell over just now?" She squatted and faced him, face aglow with curiosity.

Inigo made a squeaking sound. Upon gazing at his friend, he couldn't tell if he was flushing from embarrassment or from her looks. If he didn't know her at all, he would have assumed that she was some pretty milkmaid or a farmer's daughter passing by. The corseted jumper certainly bought out certain assets that often went unnoticed on a daily basis, courtesy of her armor. There was also something attractive, alluring even, about how her pinkish-colored hair was tied in a loose ponytail, leaving a few stray curls by her neck. It was far womanlier looking than her childish pigtails.

"...Inigo? Hey, I'm talking here!" She waved her hand in front of his face. He snapped out of his reverie.

"...Cynthia?" He said stupidly.

"Yep! It's me! Now tell me where it hurts. There's a first aid kit in one of the stables, you know." She grinned, playfully punching his leg. He recoiled.

"Owowowow...that's where it hurts...and my rump. Especially my rump." The crease between his brows was pronounced. "This is so humiliating..."

He sighed in defeat. While a sprain in the leg and a bruised bottom were hindrances, it could have been worse - what if, gods forbid, she had seen him actually dancing?

But judging by her curious eyes, she did not – and how big they seemed! They were as lovely and as round as the moon, as earthy in their color as a beautiful clay pot. If there were a moment back then when Cynthia looked as lovely as she did now, he did not recall it…

He shook his head.

"Am I getting all weak in the knees because she's wearing such a charming outfit…? What's wrong with me?"

He eased his stare, gauging her reaction: a giggle and a smile. His cheeks felt warm – curious, as he felt some of that same warmth the last time they spoke to one another. She was all smiles that day too, bringing much-needed cheer to his horrid week.

She'd indulge his love of the ladies, so why not indulge her? He smirked.

"I…actually wouldn't mind treatment right now, especially from you." He gave her a wink.

Cynthia was sure that the warmth that sputtered in her chest wasn't from the fire that burned nearby. She ran off without a word, her face searing with heat.

Sure, Inigo was always a wonderful sight for sore eyes, but tonight that "wonderful" sight veered into a far more erotic one: he wore naught but loose-fitting pantaloons and a low-hanging white shirt that left his chest and his abdomen mostly exposed for the world to see. He was taut in those areas, with narrow but muscular hips and strong arms – he lacked Owain and Gerome's bulk, yet he was no weaker for it, and it gave him a graceful appearance. His legs were his strongest parts, finely trained from years and years of discipline and careful footwork.

It was also no secret to Cynthia that Inigo was a dancer like his mother was, but he took great pains to perform alone. A mere mentioning of it sent Inigo running for the hills in mortification. It was also a part of the mass of irony that he was; he made mentions of it during his philandering adventures, but ninety-nine percent of those ended in epic, humiliating, and outright comical failure.

It was also saddening to Cynthia that she was the only one who put up with that philandering, lending him her ear despite the anger she'd always feel. After all, he too was aware that the other kids tended to push her around for being so strange, and they'd also dump on him for being so flirtatious. The rotten Nah made a threat to eat the poor guy at one point. As she found the kit, she huffed out a few times in anger.

"We like artsy things, we like helping people who get into trouble, we're both sociable people...I guess I'm not pretty enough?" She frowned as she began her walk back. "Or..."

She grasped her plump breasts. The corset made them perky and plush, giving them a roundness often seen by noblewomen in fancy dress. "...I gotta make him look at these to get his attention?"

She took the strings and tightened them a little, making her breasts pop up more. With a determined look on her face, she began running back to her childhood crush.

Inigo idly played with one of the wildflowers he had plucked. As time passed, he mulled over some recent events, one such event being that he overheard Robin the tactician giving Cynthia an earful about accidentally triggering a Shockstick. It was mere chance that he and Cynthia were out here meeting one another tonight, but after speaking to her not long ago – that time when he felt a strange sense of longing and a peculiar warmth in his chest – he felt the need to see her again.

"I mean, why do you feel a need to flirt so much? Would it kill you not to have a throng of girls screaming and pining for you?"

"Hmm...it's not a logical thing that draws me to the ladies. It's more like...instinct."

The instinct being, after some thinking and a little bit of snarky wisdom from Laurent, perpetual frustration combined with the fact that his own mother likely gave him the wrong life advice for dealing with his inherent shyness. Aside from said snark, something else she said stood out to him:

"Well, I can't speak for other girls, Inigo, but I find you pretty entertaining. You've been a good friend since we were young, and I like you a lot. Plus, I know you've got a good heart despite all the...leering. So that's gotta count for something!"

A shoddy track record with girls, and she still treated him well. Immense mistreatment of Owain and Brady, and she held no ill will against him for it. Attempted (key word) to flirt with Severa, got burned, and she had nothing but kind words for him, although it helped that Severa was also horrible to her.

Something in particular she had said looped in his head:

"You've been a good friend since we were young, and...I like you a lot..."

He sighed, frustrated at the confusion that dwelled within him.

"I must be losing my mind..." He sighed. He threw aside the wildflower in frustration and scratched his neck. Just what was that strange feeling that lingered when she was in his presence?

"How long have we known each other again? For crying out loud, I'm..."

"Inigo!"

He twisted his neck toward Cynthia's direction, rigid as a statue at the sight of her breasts. When and how did they get plumper? Why did they look like they'd pop out of that corset if she so much as raised her arms? Why was he thinking about the breasts of a girl he'd known since they were no older than three years of age?

"...What did I send her away for again?" He thought to himself, completely, and perversely, mesmerized. What a hell of a moment to think with one's "little head!"

"I got the first aid kit! Get your leg out and lemme fix it!"

Cynthia grinned, grabbing his legs and yanking the loose pantaloons from underneath him. Exposed for her to see, along with Inigo's tears of pain and fire-red face, was a pair of short, white breeches, soft and silken (a luxury granted to him as Prince Chrom's son). Though they were airy and loose, that one very, very particular area of Inigo's, one that she had discovered in books (starting with anatomical books from her father, leading up to all of those heroic sagas and romantic rags that she adored, re-reading all the naughtiest parts over and over again...), was quite visible; the underwear shaped it nicely. Her cheeks were pink, not taking her eyes off it as she took out a glass jar of Arnica flower oil from the kit.

"C-C-Cynthia, why the hell did you do that!?" He winced as his pulled muscles stretched out further. As he looked up at her, his embarrassment boiled over like a steaming kettle, quite aware at what body part of his she was staring at! "And just where do you think you're looking!? Stop that!"

She looked at him, cheeks still flushed. "I'm not looking at anything, Inigo." She took a small spoon and measured the oil out. "Now point to the part of your leg that hurts."

"I-It's...it hurts on my...my calf..." He was far too flustered to say it without stammering. "It hurts right - ack!"

She took her small hands and gingerly rubbed them all over his muscular calf, letting the oil sink in. His skin was surprisingly soft to the touch - shocking, given the sheer hell they had gone through in the future. Despite being a prince, luxuries like oils were a sort-lived indulgence for him, and it was the same for Cynthia, as Sumia was the daughter of an Earl. She was overjoyed to experience something like this again, for the feeling of oil slipping all over skin was a fun, sensual experience.

In her most heated dreams, she'd feel skin entwined with skin, aromatic with a mixture of flowers and sweat...

"Huh." She could feel the injured muscle, stretched thin. "So that's where you pulled it..." She took more oil and dabbed it on, gently massaging it in with her left hand, while her right slithered upward, ever so slowly...

Inigo would turn into a stewed tomato if he could blush any harder. And speaking of "hardness..."

"No no no no no no no no nooooo..."

He nearly choked as he felt his member go erect from her massage. His mind was half-sunk into the gutter, because if it weren't, he would have made her stop oh-so-graciously rubbing her right hand on his thigh. The more she rubbed, the more she bent over, letting his eye catch her pretty, plump cleavage. He'd lose himself at this rate, his panting becoming more audible.

The sixth time she rubbed him, she coyly looked up at him, her eyes glimmering mischievously.

"She's doing this on purpose, isn't she!?" He thought to himself, snapping out of his reverie. He grabbed her right hand and forced it off of him, giving her a hard glare.

"Cynthia, stop!" He was still blushing heavily. "You're making me uncomfortable!"

She sighed, ashamed. Cynthia hung her head low as she grabbed some stiff pads and bandage wraps to keep his leg. "Sorry..."

Inigo shook his head, still flustered. "Look, I know this is coming from the world's lousiest philanderer, but what you did was...was…"

Rapidly, he placed his left arm and awkwardly tried to hide his erection.

"I... I mean, I wouldn't even think of doing that to a girl, or...or..." He glanced at her, seeing tears well up in her eyes.

"Oh, Cynthia, please don't cry, I didn't mean to shout like that..." He waved his free hand at her, panicking.

"No," She sighed, wiping her tears. "I shouldn't have done that. I was being a creep! I should be apologizing, Inigo." Embarrassment washed over her like an ocean wave. "...Did I at least ease the pain in your leg?"

"Well..." He carefully shifted his oil-covered leg. The muscle was still weak, but the effect of the oil had dulled the pain. "You did! It feels better already, but - ooh..."

"What is it?" She gingerly asked as she placed the stiff cotton pad on his leg. The sheer amount of embarrassment from him was so thick that even she could feel it.

"It's...it's my...arse..." He whimpered in shame. "I can't believe it still hurts…"

If he did not stop her earlier, Cynthia would've turned to a viler act: taking down his breeches and feasting her not-so-innocent eyes on his naked arse. A flush of heat rippled through her legs at the thought, but if she were to do so, she'd be no better than the average tavern-dweller.

"Do you know how to apply Arnica oil, Inigo?"

"I do..."

"Well, lemme get this cast on you, and then you can put the oil on behind that tree over there. Sound good?"

"Yep."

Like a foal, Inigo made a feeble attempt to stand, his legs wobbling visibly. Cynthia tried to lift him up, but his pain was too great. He felt the muscles pull apart.

"Gah!"

The pain nearly made him snap. Inigo dragged Cynthia with him in a tumble, landing into an enclosed, grassy space below them. They rolled like bulky logs, landing at the bottom with a soft thud. Cynthia cried out in pain as she felt her head smack the ground.

"Owwwie…Inigo-"

Cynthia squeaked.

A groaning Inigo was in quite the compromising position on top of her, his right hand clutching her shoulder and his left arm sprawled parallel to her right. Every plane of his body - and indeed, that particular lump she felt confirmed that his pants were still off - pressed itself onto her, letting off a gentle heat that made her jittery inside. She didn't budge.

For quite some time, she wanted him to play the hero instead, and she the princess, sweeping her off of her feet. To her shame, the thought aroused her.

It was the last thought she had at that moment, for unconsciousness racked her brains. She blacked out, head dropping back.

"Owowowowww...Cynthia, are you...all..."

Inigo froze on the spot at the sight below him. Because she had tightened her corset, the cloth covering Cynthia's chest had tugged down. During the tumble, a pair of delicate-looking breasts had popped out, exposing themselves for him to see. Not the biggest he had seen, but they were rounded and full, topped by a pair of delicate, circular pink nipples. The most primitive recesses of his mind forced him to fixate on them. Gods, but she looked like something out of a painting: mussed hair; a slender and exposed neck that turned away from him, which tapered to the collarbone; all of that accentuating the nude breasts that he was staring at.

He shuddered. He wanted to give in to his perversions. He wanted to suckle them.

"Haah...hooh..."

Inigo took several deep breaths, willing himself to calm down, to force out the oddball mixture of pain from the fall and sexual arousal that racked his body. Alas, his arse was in great pain. He bruised it more, and the pain was too acute for him to move.

"Shit, it really hurts. This is not good..." Inigo muttered under his breath, feeling his body heat up. "This is not good at all...lord, this is all sorts of embarrassing that I don't think I've ever felt before...oh, Gods above...shit, shit, shitshitshitshiiiiiit..."

There was only one solution to quell his growing erection: think of Owain in a Dark Mage's garb. It was foolproof!

Inigo snickered at the sight of Owain in all of that ridiculous sheer material, with his genitals barely being covered by a single cloth. Owain was so absurd that he'd likely try posing and playing pretend in a garb so obscene that aprostitute looked like a nun in comparison. Why, he'd probably stumble during one of his tirades and expose his cock. That would be hilarious!

He'd expose his cock.

Expose...

His hand accidentally brushed her left breast. It silently shook.

Proving how weak in the knees he was in regards to women, he hardened in under a second.

"Dammit!"

"Mnh..."

Cynthia let out a quiet moan, slowly awakening. Inigo balked.

"No!"

"Ini...go...?"

The air struck them with tension, begging to be cut. Even though she was groggy, Cynthia gazed at Inigo with half-lidded eyes, with glimmering lust flickering in them. There was nary an ounce of embarrassment on her face - in fact, she seemed to be quite pleased with this situation. Inigo's head, needless to say, promptly exploded.

"Inigo...I..."

The boy buried his face below her breasts. "I'm not looking! I'm totally not!" He shouted through muffles. "I'm not a pervert, Cynthia! I'm not! Oh, lord, the embarrassment is eating me from within..." His face was on fire.

"Inigo!" As gingerly as she could with the amount of frustration she had, Cynthia shoved Inigo upright, ignoring his sharp cries of pain. "Stop apologizing, seriously!" She looked down with a frown, covering her breasts with her left arm. "Good grief…"

Even through the unbearable pain, he smiled back at her. "B-But, I..." He still felt his erection throbbing. "This is shameful. I mean, you're my..."

"Um…will you hear me out!?"

He jumped at the intensity of her voice. Her hazel eyes locked onto his wooden browns. Now was not the time to back down. She inhaled, completely ignoring the fact that her breasts were exposed.

"I like you, Inigo. I really do...and the past few weeks have been the absolute worst. Even if the others may not like me, even if I..."

No use stalling.

"I-I've been thinking...I, I came out here alone tonight, and...and..." Dammit! She stuttered, taking another breath. "Inigo, will you listen to what I have to say? It's important to me!"

"Yes, of course..."

Even at the absurdity of where they were now, she had to say her piece. "Remember that battle at the border pass? The one where I injured my leg and Est nearly died?" Inigo nodded his head. "Ever since that day, it's been one incident after another. I break things. I fall over rocks like an idiot. I try, try to be positive, I try to be a good Pegasus Knight because I want to...I believe I can, Inigo, and all the Shepherds..."

The tears came to her at last. Sobs racked her body.

"All the Shepherds, they hate me, Inigo! Nah, and Severa, and my father, and Chrom, they all hate me, they think I'm worthless, they think I'm completely useless!" She thrashed her right arm, sobbing. "A-All that dad does is praise Morgan, e-even when s-s-she breaks things, o-or bullies Yarne - I swear, she kept p-pulling his ears! She does stupid, stupid shit all the time! She's so spoiled and stupid, smacking her head on the w-wall! But mom and dad love her, and dad thinks I'm nothing!"

Cynthia wept.

"I don't belong here at all! What the hell is wrong with me!?" She sniffled. "Heroes of justice are a...ah...they're all b-b-bullshit! I-I-I'm no good to anyone...aaah, I even hurt you more...I'm so s-stupid...stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid!"

The tipping point had come. She collapsed on the ground, letting the anguish run through her. "Wh...why do I even bother..."

Inigo felt his arousal subside, letting sympathy take its place.

"Cynthia...I...I don't know what to say..."

He, to the best of his ability, slid over to her, gently tapping her shoulder. She couldn't find it in herself to look at him, shame brimming out of her body. Instead, he said nothing and gently held her, letting her tears fall onto his shirt. Subconsciously, she clung to him.

He became terribly sad, as the one girl from childhood who always believed in him was suffering so.

"Have you truly been feeling so sad for that long, Cynthia?" He tenderly asked her.

"Y-Yes...ah-hah..."

"Oh, Cynthia...you shouldn't doubt yourself like that..."

"Why not…?"

His head craned into her shoulder, his lips near her ear: "We all were able to survive Grima's global onslaught, weren't we? Wasn't that thought to have been impossible in and of itself?"

She sighed with a choke. Though it was true, she still felt to have been one of the weaker links back then. Even before taking up the Pegasus, she was easily the weakest among all of them.

"We argued and suffered, but we still fought. And we lived. We lived, we traveled back in time to set things right, and we've gotten to experience a time of peace...well, an unstable peace, but a peace nonetheless. And here's something..." His lips slid closer to her lobe, making her shudder. "...Among the survivors, Miss Hero of Justice, are a philanderer, a story-teller, a cowardly Taguel, a frightened archer, an elusive Wyvern Rider, a childish dragon, an obsessive knight, a money-wasting mercenary, a yellow-bellied priest, a peculiar mage, my humorless elder sister, and your amnesiac little sister. We're all as offbeat as they come, yet here we are."

It was true. The veil of doubt still lingered within Cynthia, but what Inigo said next had made it lift.

"Cynthia...do you know how sad and alone I...we felt, when we all came here? No, not just now, but even back then...your love of 'justice,' and 'heroism,' and saving the day, all of that...maybe, yes, even I thought it was a bit immature, at least in the beginning." He held her further into his arms. "But you know? Gerome is so dour, and Severa is mean, and Nah is so condescending...seeing you wanting to be a paragon of justice, it's like me and my dancing, you know? It makes people happy. I want to make people happy. And I know you take yourself seriously, but do you know that your energy keeps our morale high? It gives the army something to smile about...and I can tell you, you've done a far better job at that than I have."

"Inigo..."

She clung to him more, shuddering as his breath poured into her ear. "Inigo...I..."

"There's no need to say anything..."

He blushed as he embraced her more. "I...I hope I'm not foolish for thinking that she...sh-!?"

Before he could react, the girl in his arms cupped his head with both hands. Tenderly, she kissed his right cheek.

"She...I think she answered my question for me..."

He found himself being embraced by her - it was a tender moment, but it was also offset by the fact that he found his chin buried in her cleavage.

"I'm sorry for acting like this Inigo," Cynthia said softly, her eyes flickering with relief. "But we're going to be busy for the next few days, and...and I, well...I've always liked you Inigo." The desire she felt for him that initially died out was blossoming again.

"I've wanted to talk to you again for a while. Inigo…even if you don't like me back, I like you a lot...a lot..."

Inigo inhaled, reveling in a gentle scent that was bathed with roses and jasmine and lilacs. His everything - especially his heart - was in a tizzy, with his pounding heart growing louder by the second

"A-And..." She felt her face light on fire. "I'd always get so upset when you hit on other girls...it's petty, I know, but even when you talk to our friends, like Kjelle or Noire, or...but," she sighed, "I figured me being mad would be better than you being sad, you know what I mean? You being all cheerful kept the others in high spirits and all...but still..."

"Gods, when you put it that way, I feel like a big fat fool!" Inigo lifted his head up and grabbed her - a thrush of excitement coursed through her body. "And now that we're here like this, I, I wish I had seen it sooner..."

Hope sprang anew and eternally for the girl. "…It makes me happy that you said that. But..."

She tilted her head up, finding herself boring right into his gaze. He looked down at her, flush, trembling with an excitement that he couldn't obtain from any old dallying with any random girl.

"...It wouldn't be fair to rope you in if you at least didn't like me as a friend," said Cynthia shyly. It was only fair. "So..."

"So...what?" Inigo asked coyly, his joy beginning to bloom. "It is I who is being unfair. After all, looking back," he said, taking a breath. "We're the ones who had to stick together, trying to make everybody happy. I can't believe I never considered the things we've done together, the times we've had...see? Fortune's fool. But now, maybe not so much..."

"Inigo..."

"In truth," he sighed, growing shy. "I've felt drawn to you. Maybe I always have. Even more than the other girls, I've always wanted to help you stay happy. You among all of us have been striving the most for a happier future, and I've caught wind of the dreams you're pursuing...Even so, I didn't realize that I had such an impact on you all this time, Cynthia." He was blushing in earnest now, his face neutral. "...And I can safely say that you're making one hell of an impact on me now."

"I am?"

"Yes, yes you are." He leaned in, gently smiling at her. "I like you a lot. And you aren't roping me in. I mean it."

"You...In, Inigo..."

All that could be heard were the crickets and the trees as Cynthia and Inigo smiled at one another, faces all aglow. Slowly, gently, they tilted their heads and leaned in - he hesitated for the slightest of moments. Even though all was silent, and he was injured and she obscene in her exposed chest, the sheer level of how right it all felt was good enough for Cynthia. His umber eyes took her breath away as she felt his lips capture hers.

It took their breaths away, drawing themselves closer and drowning in the heat of their flesh. Taking a cue from the books, Cynthia's delicate tongue carefully slid its way into Inigo's mouth, and he hissed. The burn of emotions that rippled through them was like embers, flickering and gentle, but hot all the same. She leaned in and pressed herself onto his chest, her arms clutching at his back.

Inigo gasped, feeling his mind turn into putty. For but the merest of moments, he could have died and he would've been the happiest man on earth.

A tiny sliver of saliva could be felt on Cynthia's lips as they broke apart. Nary a word had to be said. A flurry of flames rose from the embers, settling in their lower regions.

"...I think," Cynthia hitched, her eyes all aglow, "that you're gonna get lucky tonight, Inigo. Right here. Right now."

Inigo's throat clenched. He shook to the core. As if Naga herself blessed him, he groaned and did his damnedest to ignore the searing pain in his ass. He stood and ferociously claimed the girl, mesmerized by her nude breasts, and hauled both himself and her to a nearby stable, kissing her hard and giving the left breast a light grope - a mere tease of things to come.