Seul à Minuit

by sevenfivetwo

Tormod, who's recently been training his fire magic too harshly in the middle of the night, collapses in sudden fatigue. It's said that this has been happening regularly. But for what reason should Tormod strain himself like that? Full summary inside!

"Seul à Minuit"

By animefan752

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Summary: Tormod, who's recently been training his fire magic too harshly in the middle of the night, collapses in sudden fatigue. It's said that this has been happening regularly. But for what reason should Tormod strain himself like that? Sothe, one of Tormod's closest friends ― if not his closest friend, ― of course gets curious. So what does the rogue decide to do?

Disclaimer: Fire Emblem: Radiant Dawn does not belong to me. It belongs to Nintendo, Intelligent Systems, and company, respectively.

Setting: A Daein Liberation Camp in Radiant Dawn. It's around the time Tormod, Muarim, and Vika stick to the Dawn Brigade for a few battles in the first part of the game. Tormod notices how strong, mature and attractive Sothe's become over the three years they haven't seen each other. He realizes he wants to get more mature and stronger as well, so the fire sage starts excessively training only at midnight. Because, if it wasn't late at night, when everyone is usually asleep, people can see him under broad day light. And he doesn't want anyone worrying about him pushing himself too hard. Besides, there's a perfectly logical explanation for Tormod to be doing this. It was obvious, but Sothe just doesn't know what that is. So he generally gets curious and seeks him out himself!

Warnings: Implied Sothe/Tormod, some cursing (mainly Sothe cursing at Tormod), some angst (mainly Tormod being upset about how weak he is) and attempted fluff (mainly at the end, but, yeah).

Side Note: I don't know why, but I titled this in French. It actually means "Only at Midnight" in English, if you were wondering. I guess I titled this in French because, I don't know, English is overrated. Haha, that's a stupid excuse, sorry. It's because I just like French. The title (hopefully) draws more attention in French.

Another Side Note: Beware of Tormod's spells! I have the lyrics to a certain song ― guess which song, ― and Google-translated (not that Google is a very reliable site to translate anything with,) them to Latin, since that language seemed to fit spell-casting best. Well, I guess I don't really know. Maybe that's just me. But isn't Latin the main language root to English? So that means Latin is an ancient language! And the spells cast in FE are in the ancient language, right? Haha, that was lame.

Still, you should probably know that I tried translating the lyrics back to English, but it ended up being a really complicated set of words. I didn't think that would happen, but, it did. So if anyone can decipher that jumble of words, I'll praise you! I think it's amazing to have someone figure out what song I used! I mean, if you're bored or something. I don't want you to waste your time on something so trivial.

Anyway, I'm veering off course here. Let's get on with the fanfic!

Enjoy. :)

---

This is ridiculous. How many days has it been now? Surely it's been over a week, at least.

The day was an ordinary day.

And how many times has he actually been in his bed out of those many days?

The meadows around them consisted of trees and shrubs shaking gently in the breeze.

None, that's how many.

The sun was shining up high, an orb of flames floating above the world. It was bright and yellow in a brilliant blue sky.

What does he do then? Is he not sleeping?

Everyone was as normally carefree as always, joking heartedly among one another in camp. Just recently, ― a week ago, to be precise, ― the Daein soldiers held captive in the Umono Prison Camp were freed, with the diligent help of the Dawn Brigade. Not only had that happened, but Tormod, who was the wildest, shortest, and most reckless fire sage Sothe has ever known, made his first appearance there in three years.

What has he been doing that's keeping him from sleeping?

To be honest, Sothe hadn't planned to see the crimson-haired sage until the time of their designated meeting. They had both agreed to exchange information, investigate, and find a way to contact the apostle in hopes of using a harmless ploy to free Daein from Begnion's clutches. But of course the fire sage couldn't stand to wait for them to get settled in the next Daein Liberation Camp. He should've expected no less from "the world's greatest and most powerful mage in the world" to show up at the worst and most dangerous time.

Why would he skip out on sleeping at night anyway? All he ever wants to do now is sleep during the day―

A tent flap suddenly resounds as well as the footsteps of a caring light mage, interrupting Sothe's thoughts. Boots that belonged to a very familiar someone stepped on the dirt floor of his tent.

"Sothe, are you in here?" Micaiah called out to the emerald-haired rogue, her eyes gentle and her words sympathetic. At the mere sound of Micaiah's soft voice, Sothe was immediately shaken out of whatever world he was in.

"Yeah, I'm here. What is it?" He replied quietly, as if he was simply waking up from a casual daydream. Hesitating for a moment, Micaiah frowned and fumbled awkwardly with her hands.

"I know I shouldn't come in here so abruptly like this just to bring up something so strange, but Sothe? There's something I need to talk to you about."

Puzzled, Sothe blinked.

"What's wrong, Micaiah?" The green-haired rogue then asked her, raising a curious eyebrow as he gradually inched to sit on the edge of his bed.

"It's about you, Sothe. I couldn't help but notice your behavior these days." Micaiah explained with an uncertain expression pasted onto her smooth face. "You probably couldn't see it, but you've been acting more and more oddly since the time we freed the Daein soldiers at Umono."

"What do you mean?" Sothe looked up at her troubled expression, creases over her flawless forehead, and the ends of her pink lips pointing downwards. "I don't get it."

"Sothe, I've been meaning to ask you a question…"

Much to Micaiah's discomfort, her perplexed foster brother bore holes through her usually relaxed face. Sothe's blinding saffron eyes were piercing right through her, but she knew she had to keep a cool head in order to speak to him. Those cold eyes were normal.

"Micaiah, what is it?" Sothe questioned her. The silver-haired maiden swallowed.

"Has something been bothering you these past few days, Sothe?" Micaiah asked, her concern failing to be concealed. The rogue could easily see the emotions of worry and uneasiness in her warm, yellow eyes. "You've just been so out of it lately, and I'm beginning to worry."

Sothe looked up at her in mild curiosity. "What are you talking about, Micaiah? What do you mean by different?"

Allowing a soft sigh to escape her lips, Micaiah carefully approached Sothe, who sat comfortably on the edge of his bed. She settled herself beside him with her hands on her lap, her gaze honest and wise like a knowing elder sister. But in that sincere gaze, a yearning look of pain in her eyes crossed Sothe's own golden ones and revealed something else, ― that she knew something he did not. Sothe grew both anxious and suspicious as he provided the silver-haired maiden some room alongside him.

"Sothe, you've been so weird around people." Reluctant, Micaiah lifted her head. "I don't know what to think of it anymore."

"But I haven't changed, Micaiah." Sothe countered almost defensively. "How am I acting any differently than usual? When have I ever acted any differently?"

"Please don't try to hide anything from me, Sothe. We promised not to keep any more secrets from each other, right?" Micaiah said. "So tell me what it is that's causing you to act this way."

"I still have no idea what you're talking about, Micaiah." Sothe answered. "I haven't been acting differently at all. I'm just…it's nothing."

"Don't tell me it's nothing when it clearly isn't." Micaiah reached out her hand and delicately placed it on top of Sothe's cold and callous one. Her hand was significantly warmer and more affectionate than his, Sothe realized, as the light mage curled her slender fingers over his. "You've been staring into space more and more often, and people wonder what goes on in your head. Sometimes, it even takes a while for me to call you just because you're so deep in thought."

Have I really been doing that?

"Besides that, Sothe, you mumble to yourself and try to seclude yourself at all times. You've become a lonely hermit, and it saddens me." Micaiah appeared distant, like she regretted ever remembering this. Then all of a sudden, she looked up at Sothe and smiled buoyantly. "But on the bright side, there is one remedy for it, from what I've noticed."

Huh?

"And that's when a certain someone comes to talk to you. It's almost unnatural; you start glowing and smiling fondly every time that person would even come near you."

"I still don't understand. What does that have to do with anything?" Sothe said passively as he peered down at his cool hand, which was still connected to Micaiah's slim one. Like a pitiful sap, he imagined the light mage's hand to be someone else's, indulging in his little fantasy and the hand's comforting warmth. The mere idea of holding hands with that certain someone caused his mind to immediately wander. It didn't wander very far though, because what he thought about was specifically that person.

I wonder…would his hand be this warm? Would it be warmer?

Sothe stared at their linked hands, Micaiah's wrapped tenderly around his.

Would it be as soft as Micaiah's? Would it be softer?

Sothe mentally slapped himself for even thinking about how that cute, small hand might fit perfectly in his own. He tried to evade the wonderful thought of his fingers interlaced with their adorably miniature ones. It was difficult to wave the fantasy off, but fortunately for him, Micaiah brought him back to reality. She didn't even notice the spectacle he had just imagined simply by holding her hand. "Sothe, there's still one other thing I need to tell you. Maybe if I tell you this, you'll know what I'm talking about."

The emerald-haired rogue instantly snapped his head up, facing Micaiah. "Oh, then what is it this time?"

"I know you told me to refrain myself from reading other people's feelings, but, I just had to, Sothe." Micaiah continued with a soft gulp. Sothe threw another curious look in her direction, hoping she doesn't get suspicious of him for spacing out like he did. But that wasn't what Micaiah was worried about. "I hope you'll at least try to understand. You see, you were having so much trouble talking about it, so…I looked."

"Huh?"

A feeble look of remorse masked Micaiah's face as she spoke with a meager sigh, "I read your emotions."

Wait, what?

Startled in disbelief of Micaiah's actions, Sothe was forced to take a moment to register what exactly she'd said. But as soon as he realized what it was that the silver-haired maiden confessed to him, the moment of astonishment Sothe was having ended, which left him to feel somewhat exposed. The rogue had even forgotten all about the fantasy he had about holding hands when Micaiah admitted to him what she did. Everything that had just previously been in Sothe's head was quickly dismissed as soon as he fully comprehended what she said. "Wait, what did you say?"

"Sothe, please, don't look at me like that. I looked into your heart only because I'm worried about you."

The emerald-haired rogue mindlessly gaped at her for a while, his vivid, amber eyes wide. He was entirely shocked, figuratively slapped in the face, and simply at a loss for words. "Micaiah, how could you? You told me you wouldn't use that power for needless reasons, but now you're saying you used it on me?"

"I was just concerned, Sothe. Please, try to understand." Micaiah responded with a great number of meek blinks, her golden eyes humble. "Besides, what's past is past. I know what this is all about already. Don't try to hide it from me."

Is Micaiah hysterical?

"Look, Micaiah, I'm not even entirely sure myself what's causing me to be this way. I didn't even know I was acting any differently than before until you told me." Sothe said truthfully, thoroughly confused. He didn't know what to think of the situation anymore. These sudden accusations of the rogue isolating himself from everyone else and acting weirdly in general were starting to get on his nerves. "But you know what I think? I think we've both been under a lot of pressure lately, so why don't we just take a nap in our own respective tents, and―"

"―Sothe, I know what you've been thinking about, and you don't have to be afraid." Micaiah encouraged him, giving him a loving smile of hope. But instead of returning her kind smile, Sothe blinked as if he really was dreaming. He was beyond confused. He was absolutely baffled, and by Micaiah's modest words alone.

Although the next thing that comes out of Micaiah's mouth threw Sothe completely off guard.

"Sothe, this has always been about Tormod, hasn't it."

Tormod.

Unexpected thuds of his heart suddenly emerged in his broad chest as Sothe felt his heart hammer against it, punching persistently at his ribcage.

Tormod. That Tormod.

His heart raced, memories of the fire sage flitting across his mind. Memories of the crimson-haired sage casting a spell and accidentally scorching Muarim's fur, memories of the crimson-haired sage pulling a lame prank behind Sothe's back but failing to catch him in it, and memories of the crimson-haired sage just smiling that big, cute grin of his. They all rushed in and developed quickly in Sothe's bewildered green head, dictating his mind with thoughts of Tormod, Tormod, and more Tormod.

The one with the bright crimson hair and ruby red eyes…is Tormod. The optimistic one, the one who's enthusiastic about everything, the one who can be very oblivious and naïve at times, the absolutely reckless one…is Tormod.

The fast, steady rhythm of Sothe's heart pounded loudly at him, the sound of a heavy beat reverberating in his ears as Tormod completely took over his every thought. In Sothe's head, the fire sage's adorably high-pitched voice became an admirable song. In Sothe's head, the fire sage's radiant enthusiasm became a delightful therapy to any of his woes. In Sothe's viridian green head, the fire sage was appealing to him in every way possible. Simply put, Tormod was pleasant to Sothe in every sense, even if he never really experienced Tormod in every sense.

It never ceases to amaze me at how captivating he can be, yet at the same time, how obvious it is that he's my complete opposite.

Now that Sothe's just realized that he never really experienced Tormod in every sense, he couldn't help but have his mind wander and his heart beat quicker. Sure, he's seen Tormod's adorably short body walking and running around. Sure, he's heard him speak to people in that cute voice. And sure, he's smelled his strangely refreshing scent, what with the times they've spent together; his aroma would have been exposed to someone eventually. But what Sothe has thought about was simple, yet blatant: Sothe had never touched Tormod's attractively small, deliciously untouched, and surely much more innocent body any more than a high-five or a friendly hug. Neither has he ever experienced the taste of Tormod. Certainly not.

How Sothe wondered what that interesting experience would be like―

"Sothe!" Micaiah nearly shrieked, with her slender hands not on Sothe's hand anymore, but on his broad shoulders. She was frantic, shaking the rogue in desperation of awakening him out of his oblivious stupor. "Sothe―"

"Micaiah," Sothe said calmly, refusing to face her worried expression. "Tell me honestly: what has Tormod been doing in the middle of the night?"

"Sothe, what―?"

"Just answer me. Please." Sothe slowly turned to face Micaiah, a deadly serious expression on his matured face. Micaiah could tell how tense the atmosphere had become, ― mainly because of her power to sense her surroundings to a much deeper degree, ― so she strained herself to understand Sothe's different perspective.

"I-I'm sorry I haven't told you sooner." The silver-haired maiden's chest heaved as she sighed in defeat for yet another time, her eyes unwilling to tell Sothe the truth, or whatever it was that she knew. "I've known since the night they first stayed with us and I never bothered to tell you."

"Don't apologize, Micaiah. You have nothing to apologize for." Sothe proclaimed. "Just tell me."

"I knew I should've told you sooner, now that it has something to do with Tormod." Micaiah hesitated. "Okay, Sothe. I'll tell you, as long as you stay calm."

Sothe felt his heart throbbing and beating in his chest again, its strong beat echoing in his ears. But this time, his heart pounded of suspense and concern, not just of longing desire for Tormod. His constant thinking over the fire sage and his curiosity over what he does late at night would soon disperse as Micaiah ever-so-slowly opened her mouth.

"I'm so sorry to say this, Sothe, but…Tormod's been passing out in the woods."

The rogue could've sworn his heart just stopped. He could've sworn the whole world just stopped.

What?

"How could that be―? What are you saying?" Sothe's sonorous voice became low and hoarse, as if he needed to breathe but suddenly can't find the simple will to inhale or exhale, which was extremely upsetting. Sothe could see that Micaiah had a look of regret and sorrow in her yellow eyes, but he said nothing, instead pushing himself to breathe normally.

"He sneaks out during supper, when we're all preoccupied with eating our hearts out and mingling with one another. I was helping Laura clean up one night and I saw his cape out in the distant trees." Micaiah continued. "I was genuinely curious and worried, of course. I mean, I'd never want him to pressure himself to the point he faints."

"But why would he…do that?" Little could express how Sothe felt right now. He was confounded, speechless, and angry beyond recognition. All of those agitated and confused feelings rolled into one frustrated emotion.

"Sothe, don't think of Tormod badly. I've actually spoken to him about this before. He said he'd rather eat alone in the woods than with us because he enjoys the forest's company. Maybe he just wants some time to himself. I mean, the forest can be really good company."

Seriously? How is Sothe supposed to react to this? Sure, every day, Tormod's just as bold and enthusiastic as ever, but at night, he scurries away into the deep, dark, and most importantly, tall forest? Why? For what Sothe's known, Tormod isn't the type to do that. It's ridiculous and simply outrageous of him to do so.

"I'm sure that if eating out there isn't what he does, there's still a perfectly good reason, Sothe." Micaiah said, "Maybe he just loses track of time out there. Or maybe he's just exhausted. We've all been fighting very hard in battle, so it isn't surprising for him to collapse from weariness. Even Edward gets down in the dumps sometimes and you know how energetic he usually is."

"I suppose."

Once the rampant waves of Sothe's fuming rage settled at the sound of Micaiah's calming words, another tide brewed in its place, this time of anxiety and emotions of the deepest concern. The rogue even felt his own piteous heart sink to the bottom of his remaining organs. A feeling of churning insides and fretful thoughts utterly caved in on him that Sothe was entirely empty inside, especially now that he knew Tormod was―

"You shouldn't worry too much about this." Micaiah attempted to comfort him with reassuring words, her smile kind and polite. "The last thing I want is for any of us to burden ourselves with stress."

But, Tormod…he's such an idiot. It's just so stupid of him. Can't he see I can't sleep because of him?

How Sothe should've known better. The emerald-haired rogue knew for every year he's known Tormod that he was a careless, hasty, and irresponsible fire sage that shouldn't ever be let out of his sight. So the fact that Tormod would risk endangering his thoughtless self by staying in the forest, late at night, alone and away from all of them, shouldn't surprise him.

"Yeah, I understand." Sothe said towards Micaiah, who was relieved and smiled at him in return.

"That's good, Sothe." The light mage replied with a touch of her hand on the rogue's arm. "I'm sure Tormod will snap back into his senses soon enough. He'll stop sneaking around in the woods, don't worry."

"Yeah."

But there's really only one way to truly settle this.

---

Later that evening, the sky was a canvas of navy blue paint, with specks of white dotting the mass of black air hanging above their heads. It was a brilliant night to be outside and admire the starry view, but here, in a Daein Liberation Camp? It's simply much more desirable to stay inside than out when you are at an army camp, of all places, ― which is precisely why Sothe was absolutely furious with Tormod.

Good Goddess, that redhead better have a perfectly logical explanation to be risking his life in the forest―at the dead of night.

Sothe's mere concern over Tormod's wellbeing had shifted from worry to excessive determination, as the rogue took the fire lantern in his tent and brought it up to his face. A tiny flame was barely withholding its place on the candle, dancing erratically on the end of its burning wick. What dripped down the stick's side was the candle's wax, which left little white droplets as they trickled, oozed, and dried up in tear-drop shapes. But then Sothe blew the fire out and the tiny flame completely vanished, dispersing into thin air. All that remained was a trail of smoke left to linger in his tent.

The emerald-haired rogue's tent, along with every other tent in camp, had been dim and silent for quite some time now. Everyone was in a peaceful slumber, after all, as they should all be.

That is, except Tormod.

Now Sothe had never expected the ever talkative and optimistic Tormod to avoid socializing and laughing it off with people just to isolate his self in the much darker woods. And the fact that that's the case was beyond infuriating. In fact, ever since he's found out that "eating alone in the woods" was exactly what the fire sage was doing, ― according to Micaiah, ― Sothe just absolutely had to punish Tormod for it. Oh, he just couldn't stand knowing Tormod was still that same, irresponsible idiot!

"Tch."

Just as Sothe placed the lamp back on the table and shook the irritation out of his head, he familiarized himself with the quickest and quietest route to the forest, a path that wouldn't disturb the sleeping people in camp. He knew that the smartest way through the woods would be a course behind the cooking fire and Tormod's tent, since that was where Micaiah had last seen him at night.

Oh, wait, that's right.

Days ago, trees around camp seemed to gradually smell more and more like burned ashes. And apparently, that smoky aroma was concentrated in the area behind the cook's tents. It all made sense. Usually no one slept anywhere near the cook's tents in fear of a fictional ghost everyone has been gossiping about, who's said to be creeping about their food supply. It was plain simple. No one went near the cook's tents. The trees behind those same tents smelled like freshly combusted fire.

This ghost turned out to be a hoax! What Sothe would do to see all of their faces when he tells them their "ghost" is just an idiot making lots of noise he can't help making.

"Spooking the campers away on purpose, are you, Tormod? And you do it as a ghost with the power of fire, no less." Sothe muttered, snatching his tattered scarf up from where he'd left it and hastily throwing it around himself. He didn't waste any more time as he cleverly snuck out of his tent without making a peep and darted towards that direction of the woods, which stood along the edge of camp in groups of tall, dark trees.

The emerald-haired rogue hurled himself into the disorganized line of bushes and shrubs, their branches and twigs pulling at his hair and scratching at his skin. But it didn't matter to Sothe whether or not he got hurt, because what he had in mind was for certain. He was definitely going to find Tormod, grab him, and take him back to his rightful tent, where he should be sleeping like the rest of them. That was Sothe's very simplistic plan. Besides, Tormod was never the one for stealth, what with his unnecessary movement and loud commenting. So finding him shouldn't even break a sweat.

What Sothe should really be thinking about is a way to take him back to camp. The fire sage is pretty stubborn. Actually, from what Sothe can recall, Tormod must be one of the most stubborn people he's ever met. Hey, the only reason Tormod ever became Sothe's friend in the first place was because the fire sage was so insistent on it, not because Sothe was actually willing to commit himself to true friendship. That just goes to show how stubborn Tormod is.

Ha, that idiot's got nothing on me. If tying his small body's what it takes to keep him safe and unharmed, I'm the man for the job. I'm sure Muarim would agree with me, anyway. Why would he ever want Tormod to endanger himself?

Late dusk had long before cast over them, a full, white moon hovering overhead. The dark air was thick, tense, but still. A perfect description for a night such as that one would be that it was quiet, soundless in a way that could almost be peaceful. All Sothe could even hear were his boots making a prattling noise trail after his feet. In the tranquil serenity of night, it made sense.

But, the clamor of his boots meeting the dirt floor wasn't all that Sothe picked up with his cunning ears. Soon enough, the crackling of a fire as well as the smell of burnt wood were blatant to Sothe's senses.

There was only one answer to this racket. And that was Tormod.

Sothe quickly and silently slithered through the forest's branches, which loomed eerily above his head. The stems and twigs of the trees around him left jagged shadows on the ground in distraught patterns. They were almost intimidating to look at, which made Sothe curious as to how the fire sage isn't afraid to be by himself in this daunting forest. Just three years ago, Tormod couldn't even sleep in a room by himself.

With a few agitated swats to the wooden limbs ahead, the emerald-haired rogue looked in front of him. Just by the sense of things, Sothe could tell he was nearing his destination. There was the faintest sound of a voice calling out in the ancient language that Sothe could barely hear from that long a distance. Plus, what was in the sky was a streak of ashy smoke. These were the traces of a domestic civilian ― a certain fire mage, to be exact, ― and so, with that in mind, Sothe knew who that reckless fool was.

But why would he be casting spells?

Like the sharp, observant, and sneaky thief that Sothe was, he ceased his every movement and listened.

"Im 'non iens scribite vobis canticum amoris, quia petierint, conferatur. Vel quia nec unus, videtis!" Cried an immature voice, which Sothe was absolutely sure belonged to who he thought it belonged to, what with the rapid beating of his heart.

And, just as soon as he had confirmed that adorably high-pitched voice to be the short fire sage's, crimson flames burst through the crooked gaps between the trees. The smell of scorched plants filled Sothe's nostrils as the sound of the earth burning to a crisp became all he could hear. A bright yellow light reflected and ricocheted off of every surface it came across, but not close enough to singe the entire forest. Even Sothe, who started boiling to the point he felt his whole body begin to perspire, had to strain himself to move from this overwhelming heat. He made a swift duck behind a billowing shrub as a flaming rock flew overhead, just barely missing him.

Damn it, Tormod! Watch where you cast your spells! Sothe thought, gritting his teeth and gathering his scarf before it could fall victim to the fire sage's hot flares.

"Im 'non iens scribite vobis canticum amoris, me quoniam tibi dicis fractio haec est aut facere. Si vestri 'in vestri via!" Tormod screamed in that same, shrill voice, which Sothe thought was piercing to listen to, even with his accustomed ears. But not long after that very spell had escaped the redhead's lips, his voice drowned in the noisy flames of his Elfire. Its crackling was all that was left to be heard.

Sothe kept on crouching behind that faraway bush as the arms of Tormod's fire surged through every little crack and opening through the forest's trees, the orange flames blazing to a blistering degree. Even Sothe was scorching hot. He could feel beads of sweat cling onto every part of his body, rolling down his clammy skin as they collected too much weight to hold their place.

Tch, this fire burns. I can even feel the edge of my fingers turning brittle from this scalding heat. But why is Tormod even training like this, anyway? I thought Micaiah said he came out here to eat by himself.

As the emerald-haired rogue gradually drew closer to the fire sage, he wondered what could have ever compelled Tormod to push himself this far. These flames were far too close to his small body and the harmless forest, not to mention how dangerous these flames were as well. For the fire sage to be so willing to do this? It was unfathomable. No good would come from jeopardizing himself and the woods. Why didn't Tormod ever take safety into consideration?

And didn't Micaiah say that Tormod only came out here to eat in his lonesome? The fact that he was training only added to the danger he's in. Didn't he know that?

Another drop of sweat ran down the side of Sothe's irritated face as he awaited the fire's demise. He was annoyed of its intense energy and constant ferocity, the way it seemed to last longer and longer no matter how tiring it could be to sustain a spell-cast fire. At this rate, Sothe would never get the chance to snap Tormod out of this, whatever it is that he's doing. The sooner the flames fall, the sooner they could go back to camp, which would mean Sothe would no longer need to waste his nights worrying his heart out and Tormod would no longer need to waste his nights draining every ounce of his energy.

Whether Tormod ate alone out here or forced himself to train so harshly, Sothe still wouldn't allow him to do either of those activities. Because whatever the fire sage deemed to do, he was still alone in the woods at midnight. And Sothe wouldn't stand for the dangerous outcomes that could very well take place.

"Im 'non iens ut subsisto vobis scribere…ahh, I-I can't keep it going anymore." Tormod let out an exasperated sigh, his narrow shoulders sagging. From behind the shrubs, Sothe observed him, yearning to jump out and yell at the fire sage, attack him in anger of his stupidity, but at the same time gather his small frame into his arms as a result of his mixed emotions. The rogue just couldn't keep watching him torture himself like this. "I can't do this…and I'm so…tired."

The fire reacted to Tormod's fatigue in the same way he did. Slowly but surely, Tormod's aggressive flames lost its strength and volume. The fire drew back from its menacing approach, eventually shrinking down to a pile of black ashes. And as a result, the earth became charred and decrepit. All that remained was the dust of the fire and the intoxicating smoke it created. Even from the distance that Sothe was hiding, soot got all over his fingers and the burned cinders of the forest lay everywhere around them. Besides that, a fog of black smoke blanketed the woods, like a coat of death strangling every living thing.

Sothe peered up from behind the bush as he covered his face with his teal scarf, in hopes of avoiding the slightest breath of smoke. There was a small, disheveled figure in the midst of the heat, seemingly unperturbed by the fire's dark haze. Now it shouldn't be surprising that the fire sage was immune to this unhealthy mist, but he was still human, so the effects of this black fog are the same to him as to Sothe.

Luckily for them, this kind of smoke would surely disappear if given some time. But the thing is: Sothe doesn't have the patience to wait for the stupid smoke to go away. The rogue didn't want Tormod to choke, cough up his lungs, or even breathe the slightest bit of bad air.

"Tormod." Sothe hacked under his breath as he stood up with a troubled expression.

What he saw was the very picture of exhaustion. There was Tormod, who just stood in the middle of it all, surrounded by ember, grassless earth, and his one Elfire tome that's fallen beside his foot. He was slumped and faltering pitifully on his feet, as if his knees were about to give in and he would just collapse onto the dirt ground. Sothe couldn't bear to look at him there, pathetically stumbling over his own feet. Tormod's small body even appeared frail to him, soiled by black ashes and thinned from lack of sleep.

And so the emerald-haired rogue dared to approach him, his quick heart racing. "Tormod."

"Mm…Muarim, I'm…going to sleep now." Tormod declared with droopy red eyes. He didn't notice Sothe stand in front of him with those golden irises silently judging him. Instead, Tormod was oblivious, mumbling incoherent noises and coughing little by little. "Lemme…sleep on your furry body again today."

Seriously, Tormod? Sothe thought incredulously, a cynical grimace making its way up his face. You take me for Muarim and then want to sleep on me? Exactly how old are you?

Tormod was surprisingly relaxed and undisturbed, unlike his usual self, who's always so enthusiastic and happy. This peaceful Tormod had strands of strawberry hair frame his face, long eyelashes curving beautifully onto his smooth cheeks. And his lips looked so pink, so gentle, and so soft. He's pretty cute when he's quiet, actually―

Wait, what the hell am I thinking?

Unsatisfied with the fire sage's tendency to rely on his foster father and upset with the way his mind worked on its own, the emerald-haired rogue scoffed arrogantly, his arms crossed. "Do I look like Muarim to you?"

Tormod was slightly bothered by the sarcastic tone Sothe picked up, groggily laying his red head back in an attempt to look the unexpected speaker in the eye. But instead of fluttering those red eyes open, he lazily groaned and lolled his crimson head around, refusing to look.

"Muarim…you sound like…Sothe." Tormod slurred in his speech, a few coughs coming out here and there. "Stop…joking 'round with me."

Huh. So Tormod was thoroughly convinced that Sothe was Muarim. Muttering to the rogue like a little child, the fire sage kept on making faces at him, faces that appealed to Sothe especially. At first Tormod looked utterly adorable with that relaxed expression on his face, peaceful and calm. But when the rogue came along and ruined it, Tormod looked just as adorable. He pouted at him in distaste when he thought "Muarim sounded like Sothe", which the rogue thought was unbearably cute. With a heart beating a mile a minute, Sothe admired it, resulting in a mental slap to the face.

What the―? This isn't what I came here for. I need to grab Tormod and get the hell back to camp―

Then, as if to stun him even more than he was already stunned, there came a light pressure on his chest that paralyzed him. Shocked at this sudden leaning other, Sothe slowly looked down. And when he did, it didn't result in just a mental slap to the face. This came with the most brutal punch.

"Muarim…I'm tired. I…don't wanna train anymore." Tormod confessed drowsily as he snaked his scrawny arms around Sothe, his soft head of cherry red tresses resting calmly on the nook of Sothe's shoulder. It was endearing, innocent, and sweet of Tormod to do so, because he couldn't even reach the top of Sothe's whole shoulder. And the fact that he couldn't only made Sothe find the fire sage even more alluring. His face was so peaceful and cherubic, his cheeks fair and smooth like a baby's skin. Though the fire left debris and ashes over Tormod's whole body, Sothe still saw him in the same way.

"Then don't train yourself so harshly, Little One." Sothe attempted to speak calmly like Muarim, but found that it was extremely difficult. The smoke was forcing him to choke slightly on his words. Besides that, he was just so dismayed with this situation. For one, they needed to escape this fog. For another one, Tormod needs to snap out of it, whatever it is that he's doing. And what else bothered him? Well, for some reason, Sothe couldn't bring himself to just grab Tormod and get out of there. His conscience insisted that it seemed rude, or rather unjust, of Sothe to do.

In the end, the rogue couldn't bear disturbing the fire sage's peace.

"Y'know I…have to." Tormod coughed as the wind howled quietly around them. Stray leaves flew from the frightening trees, spinning around in the bleak darkness of night. The moonlight barely cast any actual light on them, compared to Tormod's own bright flames. Still, the fire sage was perfectly comfortable in this risky setting, snoozing peacefully. "It's…very necessary for me to train."

"And why's that?"

From what I've been told, you don't come out here to train.

"Because, Muarim…Sothe has always…" Tormod mumbled inaudibly, much to Sothe's chagrin. Then the fire sage let out another cough, which was automatically muffled by his own subconscious mind. Yet, Sothe had heard enough to realize that he was mentioned. There was no escaping the truth. "He…"

Why did he mention me? Have I done something? What did I do?

Sothe's frantic heart raced.

"I have to train…you know…because of Sothe…"

Because of me? Frozen in shock, the emerald-haired rogue swallowed a lump in his throat, an anonymous owl hooting in one of the forest's tall trees. Sothe could feel the color drain from his stunned face as the ends of his fingertips go numb.

What does he mean, "because of Sothe"? How is it my fault? What did I do?

How many times did Tormod have to surprise him with these unexpected revelations?

Tormod wasn't fazed at all by the wave of bewilderment that crashed into Sothe, the fire sage's peaceful face expression seemingly permanent. Meanwhile, there was Sothe, freaking out inside like a man that belongs in an insane asylum.

Curiosity and guilt consumed Sothe's build once he had discovered the probable truth. Yeah, he found the information he was looking for: that the fire sage went out there to train, not to eat. But it wasn't necessarily a good thing, because this wasn't exactly "training". This was self-abuse. And Tormod might be mistreating himself like this because of him, Sothe. Of course this wasn't what the rogue had predicted, not even close. That's why the unexpected remorse Sothe felt inside began to eat his mentality and conscience inside out. It was utterly uncomfortable, itchy to his prickly skin even though nothing scratched him. At least Tormod was at peace, as if he wasn't touched by this sudden discomfort. Sothe felt a pang of jealousy over how innocently calm he was, leisurely embracing the rogue without the slightest concern.

"What happened? What have I ― I mean, what has Sothe done to make you train so hard, Little One?" Sothe said slowly, struggling to regain his cool composure at this impossible shock and guilt and concern, not to mention this suffocating smoke. He even felt his own chest shrink, making it even more difficult for him to breathe. "Whatever he's done to make you do this to yourself, I'm sure he didn't mean it."

"Mm…Muarim, Sothe…he's different now. He's taller. He's more…mature, and he's stronger." Tormod explained with a frustrated pout at how Sothe's height had also affected him. The rogue remained stunned, like a permanently traumatized statue, but one with a heart that's been crushed in his chest. That was because Sothe had never wished for this to happen, let alone have himself to blame. When the emerald-haired rogue had learned that Tormod came out there to train and not to eat, Sothe was shocked. But when the emerald-haired rogue had learned that he was the reason Tormod suffered like this, the discovery had struck him like lightning, which left him to feel absolutely mortified. "But I…I haven't grown. I haven't matured, and…I need to be…stronger. I need to be…like Sothe."

No way.

"Everyone's always trying to…protect me, Muarim, but what about them? I should…be able to save them in times of need, too. I just…can't stand being the…vulnerable one all the time, you know? And Sothe, h-he…was always one of those people…defending me."

With wide amber eyes, Sothe gaped at him. Tormod couldn't see how astonished Sothe was, of course; his cute face was buried in his scarf. Yet, Sothe could feel the wind escape him. He could feel his voice escape him. Of all the emotions in the world that's left to fill in the void in his writhing heart, it just had to be guilt and concern and some unidentifiable warmth towards Tormod.

Tormod wants to grow up…so he can protect the ones that have protected him all his life? Could he be repaying them for risking their lives for him? Repaying me for saving him those times before?

It couldn't be! It couldn't have been Sothe's fault after all, could it? He was only saving Tormod's life when he got too reckless in battle. Tormod shouldn't feel the need to have to do this!

A heavy feeling of remorse welled up in Sothe just then.

Oh, Goddess. Tormod never went out here to eat. Sothe swallowed the lump in his throat. He's out here to train. He's out here to protect people. And it's all because of me.

Well, whatever the case may be, one thing was certain. Sothe will shake Tormod out of this. He'll wake him up from this nonstop nightmare. He'll stop Tormod from continuing this nightly anguish. And, ― no matter how long Sothe wanted to stay in this admirable hug with the fire sage, ― he will even part from Tormod's adorably short arms. The power and strength to protect others wasn't worth the fire sage's own safety. Otherwise, their hard work would have been in vain. Sothe's hard work would have been in vain. What's the use in protecting someone who doesn't even watch out for himself?

That was the case with Tormod.

But really!

"I'm gonna surprise them…with my strength. I'll show them…who can or can't defend themselves. They'll all…cower behind in my shadows, 'cause I'm the almighty…Tormod." The fire sage boasted sleepily.

Why can't you be simpleminded in a way that doesn't endanger your life, huh, Tormod? You know that defense isn't your forte. Sothe thought with a discontented expression on his face, concern and guilt written right across his forehead. Just because I saved you those times before, it doesn't mean you should try to return the favor.

Simply put, Tormod's unbearable training wasn't worth the pain and definitely wasn't worth the risk. Yeah, sure, the crimson-haired sage was doing this to protect others. And yeah, sure, this smoke might go away soon. But even so, it was still extremely dangerous out there, and even more dangerous out there to train. Was it so hard for Tormod to realize that?

As the fire sage tightened his grip around the rogue's shoulders, Sothe looked down at the calmly resting Tormod, the emotions of guilt and concern bubbling just below the surface. He felt guilty because it was somewhat his fault. And he felt concerned because of the hazards Tormod easily plunged himself into. But to be honest, these mournful emotions were just exhausting. Even Sothe's heavy heart yearned for freedom from this tiresome feeling of misery. Although it knew that the remorse Sothe felt wouldn't vanish that easily, it still ached for happiness.

"Say…Muarim?" Tormod suddenly mumbled.

"What is it, Little One?"

Tormod had a contented expression mask his face as he asked him, "Do you…think Sothe would appreciate my…hard work?"

The night wind howled, the mysterious owl hooted, and Sothe's heart died inside. It was simple. The fire sage's question could easily be answered, but that response isn't exactly the answer Tormod's looking for.

Are you insane? Sothe gritted his teeth, straining himself to bear through this excruciating pain.

"But of course. Why wouldn't he?" Sothe forced himself to say through clenched teeth and harsh coughing, his words slowly pronounced as he has trouble painting the picture Tormod wants to see. "Once everyone finds out about how you're able protect yourself, no one would need to help you anymore. Instead, people would seek you out for your dutiful protection."

By now, the rogue felt so guilty, he couldn't even bring himself to move. And it wasn't just because the fire sage was clinging onto him tightly that prevented Sothe from moving even the slightest. His paralysis was a result of Tormod's subconscious tattling that made him feel so incredibly guilty. The unbearable remorse Sothe felt over the fire sage had petrified him to the point that he can't move. He felt guilty about how he lied to Tormod, guilty about how angry he is at Tormod, and guilty about how he really couldn't fulfill any of Tormod's wishes. This guilt would surely be the end of him, ― seriously!

"That's good…to hear, Muarim." The fire sage smiled, coughing under his breath. "I wouldn't want to disappoint…anyone. I especially don't wanna…disappoint Sothe."

You're impossible, Tormod! You can't say that. Don't say that. You'll just make this even harder than it has to be when you do.

Now Sothe knows that the only reason he was even there in the first place was simply to grab the fire sage and run. But that's the hard part. You see, Sothe knows that their parting is necessary, and he knows that Tormod's excessive training over gaining strength and maturity was just absurd. But it was Sothe's fault, wasn't it? If it weren't for Sothe protecting Tormod back then and ruining the fire sage's pride and self-confidence, Tormod wouldn't be inflicting such damage upon himself with this ludicrous training.

So now what? What's that supposed to mean?

Well, it was either "chicken out, allow Tormod to continue this idiotic and corrupt training, but forget all about the guilt he felt now" or "snap Tormod out of this, possibly ruin their friendship's trust, but feel better about the sage's safety". It was a tough decision for most people, but the wisest, most evident, and morally right choice was obvious. And that would be to protect the fire sage. Now it did matter to Sothe whether or not he and Tormod were close, ― what with his feelings of desire for the fire sage, ― but under no condition was Sothe just going to ignore Tormod as he pushed himself like this.

The fire sage shouldn't have to endure through this, and no longer should he have to. Sothe would stop him from doing this. It was Tormod whose protection was guaranteed, after all. Sothe had vowed to the Goddess above to do whatever it takes to keep him safe from harm. If anything were ever to happen to that immature fire sage, Sothe's mournful heart just wouldn't be able to handle it.

It's time to take you home, you idiot.

"Okay, Tormod, you have to wake up now. I'm not Muarim. And this training is just crazy." Sothe could barely muster up the courage and strength to pull those bold words out of his mouth, his desperate heart beating a mile a minute. But in the end, it didn't really matter; the things Sothe said only seemed to confuse Tormod, what with how random and abrupt that was. "I wouldn't even call this training anymore."

Misinterpreting the rogue's words, Tormod coughed to the side before turning his head up at him. With that adorable questioning expression on, the fire sage wavered unstably on his feet with a frown pasted onto his filthy face. "Huh…?"

"You can't do this to yourself, Tormod. I know you want to be mature and strong, but this isn't the way to do it. Not everyone can be heroes and just protect anyone they want. That's just how life works." Sothe shook out of his Muarim charade by the call of Tormod's name. He reluctantly parted from the fire sage's pleasant embrace and grabbed ahold of his weak shoulders, Tormod's thin arms dropping to his sides. As soon as they were fully apart, Sothe's heart contradicted his actions and immediately yearned for the fire sage's warmth. "This training that you're committing yourself to is wrong. You might be doing this for the sake of protecting other people, but when you strain yourself like this and just overexert energy, it's unacceptable."

The moon barely provided them with any light, casting long shadows over them from behind the clusters of lanky trees. Meanwhile the smoke seemed to take its time dispersing within the air, clouding the area around them.

That's when Tormod would frown and turn away and cough helplessly yet again. That was also when Sothe would get even more frustrated over this troublesome situation, where the nauseating smoke takes a while to clear, Tormod still forces himself to train so harshly, and Sothe's heavy heart is just about ready to burst from all of this.

Couldn't Tormod just give in to him and stop this stupid, stupid, stupid training without any complications?

"Did you hear me? Are you listening to me, Tormod?" Sothe asked quietly as the fire sage shifted uncomfortably, Tormod's scalp of strawberry red tresses the only thing Sothe was allowed to see. "You shouldn't do this to yourself."

"Muarim…Muarim, what are you…talking about?" Tormod mumbled almost inaudibly. His usually noisy voice was timid and withdrawn, as if the fire sage never wished to speak up, unlike his normally boisterous self. "You aren't…the one to tell me that. You said…this was good for me…didn't you?"

Tormod, this is anything but good for you. With deathly serious eyes, Sothe watched the fire sage fidget uneasily.

"Ah, I…never wanted you to be…angry. I-I'm sorry."

Slowly and uncertainly, Sothe felt the distance between them grow as Tormod lopsidedly stepped away from his secure hands, facing the ground all the while. In response to Tormod's attempt to separate, the rogue could only feel miserable regret. The loss of Tormod's tender presence definitely wasn't what Sothe had hoped for, after all. He only wanted them to make it back to camp. He only wanted Tormod to be safe!

"Tormod, you're better than this." Sothe took a step closer, only to startle the fire sage and have him step back like a frightened kitten.

Awkwardly and anxiously, the fire sage stood in front of him, Sothe craving desperately to touch Tormod as a form of comfort. He wanted to embrace him, to hold him, to kiss him. Sothe would have enjoyed just a second more of Tormod's oblivious affection. Not this. Sothe never wanted to scare him like this.

Why was he suddenly afraid of him, anyway?

Perhaps Tormod had finally realized who he was? Had he finally realized it? Did he know it was Sothe?

"Tormod, listen to me. Tormod, look at me." Sothe approached him a second time, stretching his arms out towards the fire sage. It hurt Sothe beyond belief to see Tormod's frail body standing in front of him, alone and pitifully unbalanced. "Open your eyes, Tormod."

"I don't…wanna. You…you're calling me by my name. M-Muarim doesn't call me…that."

"Tormod, please, just talk to me." Sothe resorted to pleading to him, the yearning feeling for Tormod gradually building up inside of him. Yet, Tormod didn't appear to like the idea of explaining anything, shaking his red head at the ground.

"Stop, I-I don't…want to. You…you can't make me."

For him, for Sothe, the moment was uncomfortable, painful, and utterly miserable. Tormod insisted on pushing him away, no matter how stubborn the rogue became. It truly did tear his heavy heart apart, into little, tiny pieces Sothe has to pick up one by one. Yet, despite that, the rogue knows he can't give up, even if Tormod refused to be obedient to him. The knives and daggers protruding through his chest weren't going to stop him.

"Tormod―"

The fire sage was simply confused. He didn't know any better, so he trains himself like this. Sothe knows that rescuing the fire sage from this nightly anguish, this idiotic training, was for Tormod's own good. Besides, the fire sage's safety benefits him as well as Sothe. If Tormod's safe in his tent, ― not out here, in this menacing and hazardous forest, ― Sothe can rest easy. He'd be incredibly relieved knowing that Tormod's safe. The redhead would be the innocent, naïve, and, most importantly unharmed fire sage Sothe knows and cares so much about.

This is insane. Sothe's heart wailed, writhing and lurching and twisting inside of him in the worst way possible. Stop doing this to me, Tormod. You can't hurt me like this. You can't rip me apart like this. Please, don't do this to me.

"You…you're not…Muarim. I don't…w-wanna know who you―"

Unable to resist the urge any longer, Sothe gathered Tormod's feeble and delicate figure into his own caring arms. The feeling of the fire sage's tender body in Sothe's grip caused his racing heart to skip, his running blood to pump, and the warmth he felt to emerge into colorful bursts of bliss. Tormod's gentle frame was soft and warm underneath Sothe's steel grip, soothing to the touch and comforting beyond belief with that sweet, sweet body heat.

Although at first, Tormod refused to be still, thrashing halfheartedly against Sothe with his eyes stubbornly closed. His small fists were his only weapon, which he used to pound at Sothe's chest, but to no avail, really. But, as Tormod gradually lost the willpower and sheer muscle to keep beating against Sothe, he realized that he dealt no damage on this tall obstacle. Knowing that and losing energy by the second, his pitiful struggling slowed to a stop.

Once the lame pounding on his chest had ceased, those same, little fists rested dependently upon Sothe's body. Then, as soon as Tormod settled down, the rogue grabbed the fire sage's wrists and looked down at him. "Tormod, will you please just talk to me?"

"No, no…I can't―" Tormod mumbled frantically, shaking his head at the ground as if this wasn't really happening, that this was only a dream. But Sothe's had enough of wishing and wanting and striving for what they desire only to have a horrible result in the end. Tormod needs to wake up, just like him. Sure, he felt guilty for being the reason Tormod even comes out here in the first place. And sure, he feels even guiltier for telling him what he's in no place to tell him, but Sothe cared. He cared about the fire sage a lot. And if protecting him meant destroying his image and their friendship, then so be it.

"Look, Tormod, you should've never come out here. It's dangerous." Sothe stated firmly, his golden eyes stern on the fire sage in front of him. Tormod trembled in Sothe's secure grip as he coughed under his own chastened breaths. Frustrated over his guilt and Tormod's ill appearance, the rogue restrained himself from grinding his own teeth. They just needed to get out of there, before Tormod suffers from a combination of the inhaled smoke and his own sleep deprivation. "Your fire can touch the forest, not to mention how close you stand next to it. Why should you stress yourself over training and growing up? Your training only brings you pain and you know it."

"No, you don't u-understand…I―" His words quivered shakily, afraid of what's to come.

"You, you're hurting yourself more than you actually get stronger. I understand that perfectly well. Don't tell me I don't know what's going on here."

"No, that's not it…I was just―"

"Just what, Tormod? You were just what? Waiting to die?"

"No!" Tormod's eyes finally flew open, those ruby red eyes gleaming awake as he looked back up at Sothe.

Vivid crimson eyes met intense saffron ones, a language much deeper than words crossing between the two of them. Sothe could see the disbelief, humiliation, and grief swirl around in Tormod's brilliantly red eyes, a shield of pride failing to conceal his true feelings. It was inevitable. These were the emotions that Tormod felt, and Sothe was certain of it. The fire sage definitely did not expect to see him there. Neither did he ever want the emerald-haired rogue to witness his nocturnal escapades, where he usually trained his magic until he seriously does fall.

Sothe felt his severely aching heart pound angrily in his chest as Tormod frowned. What's worse: the fire sage's pout caused Sothe's heart to completely well up with guilt, wilting pitifully like a neglected flower.

"Tormod, this isn't the time or place to train." Sothe spoke up to fill the silence. "I know you don't want anyone to worry about you pushing yourself too hard, but this is outrageous. If anything, this makes us all worry more."

This makes me worry more.

"I-it really is you, Sothe." Those piercing golden eyes saw right through Tormod. Sothe knew that as soon as the fire sage's feelings were revealed and those measly words escaped his lips, Tormod couldn't handle exposing any more of his secrets. So with a swift blink of his red eyes, he timidly shook his head and lowered it back down to look at their shoes, covered by black ashes.

Sothe's grip on Tormod's slim wrists tightened.

"Have you even spoken to anyone about this? About what you really do out here? This, whatever it is that you're doing, Tormod, this is just stupid. No good comes from this, and you know it. What you're doing is simply foolish ― only an idiot would come out here like this!" Sothe scolded in displeasure of Tormod's actions, yet at the same time, in discomfort of the guilt and concern he felt. How he wished Tormod had never come out here in the first place. Sothe's miserable heart just can't handle any more of the anguish Tormod provided with those sorrowful red eyes. "In camp, all you ever do is doze off. Don't go thinking that I've never noticed, because it's obvious."

"I, I didn't mean to―" Tormod sniffled, coughing.

"In case you didn't know, Tormod, you're probably the only person sleeping through lunch. How is that unnoticeable? Tell me that, why don't you."

"Sothe―"

"No. It won't work. You can't do this."

Tormod gulped on his own gasps, his whole face reddening from humiliation and grief. "S-Sothe, please―"

"You should stop doing this ― no, let me rephrase. Stop doing this to yourself, Tormod. There's no need for this. I understand why people train, but what you're doing…it's too much. You won't get anywhere like this. Do you realize how weak you become in the end? Look at yourself. You're struggling to even stand on your own feet!" Sothe continued with a deathly serious face expression and a firm line on his lips. But his agitation over Tormod didn't stop the devastating guilt from overwhelming him, no matter how many times he tells himself that it's for the greater good. "It's upsetting to see you here like this."

"Listen, S-Sothe...I just―" His words were quiet, like a terrified child with nowhere to hide.

"I don't even need Muarim's permission to be here. If he knew, or actually, if anyone else knew about this, you wouldn't just get reprimanded for it." Sothe said as Tormod cringed at his words. "You know what? You can't even imagine how angry I am, Tormod. This is preposterous."

"Sothe, w-what are you even…doing here?" Tormod's voice cracked, wishing so badly to disappear as easily as the wind. The fire sage looked absolutely miserable there, with his small frame slumped. Even Sothe could feel how frail Tormod had become, the way the redhead could easily sway on his feet and break in his hands. His slender wrists were fragile all of sudden, that Sothe was convinced he had to be extremely cautious, shifting his grasp to Tormod's narrow shoulders. "You…shouldn't be here."

"Tormod, don't try to change the subject. You know I'm right. Don't deny it."

Just stop doing this behind everyone's back. Stop doing this behind my back. Sothe's heart screamed. Of all the things you could do here in the middle of the night, why does it have to be this?

By this time, most of the smoke in the area had cleared, but the two of them couldn't help coughing still. The strong scent of a thriving fire stuck to their skin, and everyone knows that the smoke of a flame is deadly, so their coughing wasn't out of place. Besides, what remained around them were tree branches and embers that crackled quietly as pieces of wood burned silently in the fire's aftermath. Not the entire forest was affected by Tormod's earlier flames, but only a small portion. That small portion just happened to include Sothe and Tormod, as well as those few trees and grasses.

"I'm…weak, Sothe." Tormod admitted sadly in sullen melancholy, his own words softer than his harsh coughing. Surprised at the sound of Tormod's wispy voice, Sothe looked at him. "I can't…protect anyone. Unlike you, I…don't have animal instincts. I don't have fast reflexes. I mean, that's why I use tomes."

"Tormod…Tormod, that isn't true. You aren't weak. Everyone's afraid of your fire magic." Sothe wanted to comfort the fire sage. Really, he wanted to. He just wanted Tormod to feel better in every way possible. Seeing him become a piteous fool like this caused every organ in Sothe's body to lurch and churn and twist in all different directions. "Hell, I'm afraid of your fire magic."

"Yeah, right, Sothe. You don't need to…lie to me." Tormod chuckled heartlessly, purposely avoiding eye contact. But the tone of his voice was serious. It hurt Sothe even more to hear him like this. "If anything, you grew two feet taller but I…I might as well be the same height as three years ago. It's as if I haven't grown an inch."

"Tormod―"

"A-and people always treat me as a child. They say I'm immature and childish, but I…I'm really not! I'm mature! I'm basically the oldest adult around here!" Tormod prattled on, his upset emotions touching the very insides of Sothe's throbbing heart. "Why do you think…? Why is that?"

What was Sothe supposed to say to that? A mere second after those words left Tormod's lips, Sothe felt his heavy heart writhe painfully in his broad chest. All Sothe knows is that the sight, the sound, and the simple feeling of Tormod in that troubled and saddened state destroyed whatever was left of Sothe's mood. The forest's unsettling atmosphere didn't appear to help lift their spirits, branches stretching high into the bleak sky and scratching at nothing with claw-shaped twigs.

"Tormod, whoever it is that you're talking about, they're wrong." Sothe countered. "You may be childish and really annoying to me at times, but―"

"We're the same age, aren't we, Sothe?" Tormod spoke barely over a whisper. Sothe stared at the fire sage as he sulked to himself, watching his own boots scuff against the sooty dirt. "We're the same age…yet we're so different. Why is that, Sothe? Why aren't I…as strong as you? Why aren't I as grown up?"

The moon loomed almost ominously over them, glowing a pearly white and offering barely any light to allow them to see in that tedious night. Sothe hesitated to answer Tormod's persistent questions as the tree's shadows crawled on the earth, crept on Tormod's embers and burnt wood, and stalked over their whole figures.

Sothe's tense grip tightened over the fire sage's slim shoulders, causing Tormod to wince at the touch. "Tormod―"

"If I were more like you, I know I'd be able to face these issues without a problem."

"Tormod, you―"

"B-but the thing is…I'm not you, Sothe. Why can't I be more like you?"

Enough of this!

"Tormod, listen," Sothe said angrily as he hacked on his breath. Stunned at the sound of Sothe's furious tone, Tormod lifts his head and blinks those brilliantly red eyes, his eyelashes fluttering rapidly. "You're looking at this all wrong. You don't need to be like me to protect people. Don't think like that. It's stupid."

"It isn't s-stupid." Tormod countered defensively. "N-not to me."

"Don't think this helps you get any stronger, Tormod, because it doesn't. You're only threatening your own life―"

"―No, I'm not, Sothe! This time you're wrong. T-that isn't true. I'll get stronger…by doing this. I'll protect everyone by doing this!" Tormod pulled himself out of Sothe's concerned grasp, gasping and heaving wearily. "Just, just leave me alone, okay?"

Then, with a troubled glare of his livid crimson eyes, he paces unsteadily around Sothe's broad build. The emerald-haired rogue, who could only watch the fire sage stumble clumsily towards an object on the ground, observed him in mournful agony as Tormod bent down to grab something. The dreary darkness of night, as well as the few remaining clouds of smoke, blurred Sothe's vision of that certain object. But as soon as Tormod straightened up with a flip of that flowing red cape, his Elfire tome appears in his slender hand.

Sothe's heart crumbles.

He can't possibly train under these conditions. He's exhausted. His body can't take any more.

At this point, there were only specific emotions that Sothe felt. And those emotions were grief, sorrow and despair; the feeling of miserable emptiness and lament. Especially now, as Tormod makes a desperate attempt to pull himself together and crack his red spell book open, Sothe felt particularly miserable.

After all of this, Sothe now understands why Micaiah was so reluctant to tell him the truth. It was too painful. Tormod never wanted to eat out in the woods. Tormod had always wanted to grow up, to get stronger, and to protect others, so how he comes around to do so is this. How upsetting it was for Sothe to figure it all out just to see the fire sage behave like this. He could feel his mourning heart lurch and writhe and shrivel up into tiny, little shards as Tormod strained himself to flip the yellow pages.

"Tormod―"

Page after page, the fire sage's vivid ruby eyes remained closed longer than open, his eyebrows arched over his forehead in bent out frustration. And if Tormod was trying to cast a spell, the only things coming out of his mouth were incomprehensible mumbling and helpless gasps. Sothe had a difficult time there, watching him work so pitifully and pathetically. Tormod's stubborn personality had struck again, which only made it difficult for Sothe to move, and at the same time, made it difficult for him to stay still. Tormod was, he was―

"Ut discedentis sum vobis…" Tormod murmured, his exhausted figure leaning a little too forward as if he'd simply fall over. He was hunched feebly over his Elfire tome, a tiny body slumped and utterly helpless without another to lean dependently on. Tormod was so frail and delicate; he really would drop to the ground if Sothe didn't bother to help him. And Sothe longed painfully to help him. "…scribere amet maturescerecausa…amoris canticum hodie."

"Tormod, stop it. Don't do this."

As the fire sage defiantly muttered the chants and verses to cast an Elfire, a yellow circle gradually lit up on the earth floor, brightening considerably among the weeds and grass. A detailed pattern lined the curves of the yellow ring, symbolic lines leaving inscriptions throughout the circle. Sothe felt his heart race frantically as he turned to Tormod, whose vulnerable frame was steadily being drained of its energy.

"Im 'non iens…ut subsisto…vobis scribere," Tormod persisted, his thin body faltering from one side to the other. He's too weak to stand on his own. "Si vicina…tua nusquam."

"No, Tormod, don't do this." Sothe attempted to reason with the fire sage, shaking his head in discontent, in disapproval of Tormod's actions. "Don't do this to yourself."

Grief, sorrow, despair, this was utter misery! Rather, it's too much. The agony and anguish of everything that's happened, ― of everything that he's felt that night, overwhelmed Sothe to the point beyond measly torment. The remainders of Sothe's piteous heart could only crumble within itself, with the way Tormod appeared to him now. How could the fire sage do this? Was there no end to his complete idiocy? Won't Tormod listen to him for once in his life? He just had to stop!

"Tormod, you can't. Not this, please."

By now, the golden ring was especially detailed, floating right above the earth floor. It bound the dirt ground under a precise circle, which would soon create a blazing fire Sothe would absolutely despise. As Tormod ignored the rogue's constant reasoning, his spell brought another yellow ring out to light up the floor with its distinct symbols and engravings. Essential, cursive words in the ancient language bound the two golden rings together, developing a rather grand formation to spread out before them.

"Ego autem…credo quod est ambulare," Drowsily, Tormod mumbled some more. "Septemmaria…causamscribitevobis…canticum amoris…hodie."

Then, with the support of Tormod's weary magic, a bright red flame ignited. That fire burst thriving in the middle of that circle, suddenly illuminating the area around them. The trees emerged in hordes of green leaves and ebony branches, while each of their faces glowed alive. Sothe's eyes shine a brilliant gold, and Tormod's gleam a beautiful scarlet. The Elfire shot tiny sparks as it blazed and lit the night away, not that Sothe wanted it. He didn't want that stupid fire. He didn't want it as long as Tormod's the one who brought it to life.

"No!" Sothe cried out.

Tormod's face paled under the intense light of his Elfire, whatever energy left in his frail body dissipating. Yet, he remained standing somehow, even if he was tilting unsteadily and unable to hold himself up properly. Yet, the fire Tormod cast from his spell was just as weak and fragile as he was, barely withholding its place. With a single touch, they could both break away. The fire would no longer thrive, and Tormod would no longer be awake.

"Tormod, don't move." Sothe ordered angrily as he glared at the dying fire. "Let me come near you."

It had already been decided. That whatever the case may be, whether Sothe wanted that fire or not, his main priority was Tormod's safety. It rested in his hands, and Sothe's own inner conscience knew that. He was tied to the fire sage. He was joined to Tormod under his complete devotion to him. To catch Tormod's little body before it touched a single blade of grass on the earth floor ― Sothe would accomplish that, without a doubt. And by the looks of it, the fire sage was about ready to collapse out of fatigue. Now the rogue hadn't wanted him to fall in the first place, but if Tormod wished to be stubborn, then, Sothe simply had no choice but to catch him and carry him back to camp.

"Muarim…I did it." Tormod's half-lidded eyes blinked, staying closed just a second longer. He seemed to have mistaken Muarim to be present there again. Hopelessly confused, the fire sage keeps mumbling incoherent noises. However, his ramblings deemed useless and made no sense, really. "I…I finally made a…sustaining fire."

Sothe scowled, walking up towards the fire sage. I swear, Tormod, you're so pathetic sometimes.

As Tormod prattled on to no one in particular, his lamely spell-cast fire soon died away into black nothings. The dark, empty night only had the moon to rely on for any illumination without that stupid fire. Of course, Sothe didn't mind the dim radiance of the full moon, but he could see that Tormod was so vulnerable under these conditions. The rogue couldn't stand it. He couldn't stand how helpless he is. He couldn't stand how stubborn he's willing to be to become stronger. But in the end, Tormod was defenseless. And Sothe wouldn't allow it. He would never let Tormod's vulnerability get the better of him.

Knowing he had to be completely quiet, Sothe prepared himself. Carefully and warily, Sothe approached Tormod yet another time that significant night. His boots met the burnt earth floor, the crunchy sound of scorched leaves and grasses reaching his ears as the scent of charred dirt overwhelmed his olfactory sense.

Tormod…

Obliviously standing there in his own lonesome, the fire sage didn't seem to take notice of him. The emerald-haired rogue stealthily strode his way as the fire sage's fragile body wavered pathetically.

How did it end up like this?

How unstable Tormod's footing was, the way he faltered meagerly forward, one foot turning one way and the other in another way. It was obvious. The fire sage really can't help his fatigued drowsiness. With that weakly held balance, he won't be able to stand on his own for another moment. As exhausted as he was, Tormod would willingly fall.

And as overprotective as the rogue was, Sothe would willingly catch him. Most definitely.

When did Tormod ever get this serious, this solemn?

That's when the sage's thin body leans forward a little too carelessly. Slowly, hastily, he began the excruciating descent to the dirt ground. He faced the way he fell, collapsing with his Elfire tome clutched tightly to his chest. His crimson cape cascaded into the dark sky behind him as the strands of his scarlet red hair swept away from his languid face by the simplistic force of gravity.

What could have happened between us to lead to this?

Sothe swears on his life: Tormod won't touch a single thing on that filthy ground. So once the emerald-haired rogue deemed himself to be close enough, he swiftly stretches out before him his well-toned arms. And with perfect timing, Tormod's small body lowered itself, stumbling, falling right into those ready arms.

Where was I when Tormod got like this?

Fortunately for Tormod, the impact from the fall was insignificant. His frail figure landed effortlessly into Sothe's arms, and he seemed absolutely comfortable with it. The rogue carefully turned him over, so that the fire sage's cherubic face was visible to him. Once that soft, childish expression was visible to Sothe, he could see the look of exasperated contentment on Tormod's adorable face.

Why was it like this?

Actually, at that exact moment, Tormod appeared very mesmerizing and naturally attractive to Sothe, alluring him enough to truly captivate him. Those darling crimson eyelashes drew Sothe in as they delicately kissed the tops of Tormod's smooth, pink cheeks. The fire sage's soft, fair skin enticed the rogue as well. It was flawless and innocent, appealing to him that way. Yet at the same time, by how filthy and tainted Tormod's skin was beneath that coat of dirt and black ashes, it still appealed to him.

Why did it have to be like this?

In grave longing, Sothe watched Tormod lay quietly in his muscled arms, his small chest lifting and dropping like usual, much to Sothe's relief. He couldn't even think of letting go of Tormod's narrow shoulders ― that's how much he cared about him. But to be honest, Tormod appeared quite peaceful now, despite the dramatic events that had just occurred there in the forest, at precisely midnight. He was hugging his Elfire tome to himself like it was his most prized possession, while his other slender arm dangled limply at his side. The only thing Sothe found upsetting and uneasy about Tormod right now was how precious he thought his magic was. He understands why the fire sage would want to protect others, but enough was enough, wasn't it? And so, with that in mind, Sothe finally seizes the fire sage's tome and tosses it to the side.

Tormod, you might hate me for this, but…I care about you too much to let you do this to yourself. To me, your life will always come firs―

"S-Sothe…?" A quiet, hoarse voice spoke up unexpectedly. Sothe immediately looked at Tormod's weary face, feeling his every sense tingle at whatever it was the fire sage had to say. "I wanna…know."

His vivid crimson eyes were soon revealed to the rogue, glistening in many beautiful shades of scarlet. Sothe couldn't bear to avert eye contact, the way they completely paralyzed him beneath that stunning vermilion stare. Tormod's glassy eyes were just as mesmerizing as every other part of his tantalizing body. They were gems, rubies, gleaming as if they were the polished orbs of a porcelain doll's eyes. Right into Sothe's own golden irises, they looked straight at him, and only at him.

"How come…how come it's so easy for you…to protect people?" Exhausted, Tormod hesitated, blinking those crimson beauties slowly. "I remember when…we were younger, you were the one who was…always out there…somewhere, while I just…I…"

Tormod didn't have the sheer energy left in that thin, fatigued body to even finish his thought. The entire time, he could barely keep his scarlet eyes open. So as soon as Sothe realized that he wasn't going to hear the rest of that sentence, Tormod drifted into a comfortable slumber, his whole frame curling into Sothe's broad chest. Once the fire sage had settled himself to his satisfaction, the emerald-haired rogue suddenly felt something punch and pound at his ribcage over and over again.

Tormod, you have no idea. All those times in the past, you weren't being weak. I was…assuring myself of your safety. You see, I'd never want you to get hurt.

Sufficiently cozy, Tormod's warmth tickled Sothe at his very heart, the way his slim figure snuggled closer and closer, deeper and deeper into Sothe's secure arms. It lifted the heavy, troubling load off of the rogue's heart. It soothed Sothe to know that Tormod was finally safe, that Tormod was truly comfortable, and that he has the chance to surely change Tormod's mind once and for all. Sothe would certainly bring him back to camp. He would watch him sleep peacefully in his rightful tent. And although Sothe never would've wished for Tormod's undesirable fainting and loathsome training to be true, he knew he would get Tormod to stop it somehow.

I'd never let you get hurt.

In fear of the crimson-haired sage escaping him, Sothe tightened his hold on Tormod's slender body, as if nothing would ever tear them apart. The thought of the fire sage succumbing to his shattered confidence and training himself like he had been previously proved Sothe that Tormod wasn't just delicate on the outside, but on the inside as well. It disturbed him to no end that Tormod had ever felt the need to do that in the first place. It was completely unnecessary! If Tormod wanted to protect someone, he didn't need this agonizing training to make him stronger.

Still, Sothe was appeased. Now that he knew about this corrupt training, he has the chance to stop the fire sage from continuing it. Tormod would no longer have to do this to himself, this excruciatingly painful suffering he commits himself to in the middle of the night. Tormod had Sothe to rely on, after all. Why protect someone on your own when there are others by your side? Had Tormod forgotten about them? The world didn't have to rest on his shoulders alone.

The emerald-haired rogue, somewhat at ease, lifted his viridian head and stared at Tormod's calm, resting face.

Tormod, strength and courage…that's something you shouldn't worry about. If you want to protect people, don't. I'll do it. As long as I know you aren't in any danger, I'll do anything for you.

"I don't know if you're listening, Tormod, but I just need you to hear this, conscious or not." Sothe started, blatantly reluctant. His heartbeat reverberated in his ears.

He gazed at the sleeping Tormod, entirely motionless in his affectionate grasp. He could see the locks of his beautiful crimson hair graciously frame his face, which looked palely charming against the dim light of the silver moon. Tormod's skin seemed so gentle and soft to touch, to hold, and to kiss. Sothe yearned to caress his face. He longed to hold Tormod's tender, little hand, to interlace each of theirs together and have the fire sage's fingers fit perfectly between his own. That way it would be necessary for them to keep their hands linked together.

Simply put, Sothe coveted Tormod. Sothe thirsted for him. Sothe craved him.

"I love you." He confessed to him truthfully, his heart racing, thumping, and drumming away like never before. "I always have, Tormod."

Feeling every emotion inside of him explode into fits of bliss and some unidentifiable warmth, Sothe experienced fireworks burst within his body. The only thing Sothe could even hear was the rhythm of his mirthful heart in his ears, while the only thing he could see was the slumbering face of his ever darling Tormod. Besides that, the only thing Sothe could feel was Tormod's pleasant warmth in his caring arms.

I love you.

That confession was from the bottom of his honest heart, and Sothe was relieved to finally admit it.

Tormod completed his life.

"And I am going to protect you, even if it means sacrificing my own life." Sothe continued in that intensely serious tone. Tormod simply leaned against him, wandering in his dreams. "You're…more important to me than myself. I can't stand to lose you, so when you do something as despicable as this, you'll have to understand why I disagree."

Especially sincere in his words, Sothe stole a devoted glimpse at his dearest love. He could see that Tormod had diligently listened to his every word, resting his head of scarlet-red tresses onto Sothe's broad build. Even though the fire sage had most probably been unconscious to fully comprehend Sothe's genuine confession, it was perfectly fine with him. Besides, Tormod might not even have any feelings to return. And if that was the case, then it's decided: it's better for him not to know.

"Tormod…I'd tear down the sky if it means saving you."

I love you.

"You see, Tormod…it might sound a little lame, but…I need you in my life."

As Sothe silently admired the sight of Tormod's peacefully sleeping face, he took his time glancing at him. The way the fire sage's long, crimson eyelashes curved smoothly over his soft cheeks, Sothe was mesmerized. And how the collar of Tormod's shirt unfolded by itself; it exposed his ravishing neck of pure and innocent skin, which Sothe so badly wished to taint. He was utterly captivated by how Tormod had him wrapped around his finger―when he was completely oblivious to it himself.

"I can't let you do something as stupid as this. It's too much for my heart to bear, when you treat yourself so harshly. When I first heard about you doing this, I could've sworn…my heart stopped."

What especially tempted Sothe were Tormod's pink, untouched lips, the way they appeared so fresh and luscious to him. They looked awfully lonely and cold, those scrumptious petals waiting ever so patiently. Sothe could feel his heart begin to race once again, his chest shrinking and making it difficult for him to breathe. Mortified of how his mind could even think of it, his face grew hot, as well as his whole body.

"You should already know how much I care about you…Tormod. I mean, I would never…"

There's just no way―!

"Let you…"

Even if Tormod's lips beckoned him to, Sothe wouldn't.

"Get hurt…"

Steal his first kiss.

The fire sage's pink lips were merely seductive, particularly luring Sothe in―hook, line, and sinker. Though Sothe hadn't the heart to kiss Tormod without his permission, those scrumptious petals were crossing the line. They appeared so lush and sweet to him, especially by how innocent they were with their appealing charm.

Sure, after all this time, Sothe had been sincerely concerned about Tormod, which resulted in him dutifully seeking him out, there in the menacing forest. And the only reason Sothe was even concerned about the fire sage in the first place was because he had much deeper feelings of the earnest love for him. Sothe never would've wanted Tormod to get hurt. He loved him too much. To harm Tormod's delicate body is to destroy Sothe―inside and out. A playful punch to the crimson-haired sage's shoulder wouldn't faze him, but in battle, where everything has to be taken seriously and into full consideration, Sothe can't even imagine it.

I love you.

Was it so hard for Tormod to realize that? Was he that ignorant? Was he that oblivious to his surroundings, his opponents, or even Sothe's feelings? Didn't he know about how badly Sothe yearned to hold him, caress him, and embrace him? Can't Tormod ever get anything through his thick head? Sothe loved him. He should know how to take better care of himself, for Sothe's sake! The emerald-haired rogue would never accept the certain hazards of this awful training, and Tormod should know that. The emerald-haired rogue would never accept the definite dangers of being alone, and Tormod should know that as well. And now? Tormod would faint helplessly out of fatigue, in this daunting forest, and only at midnight. The fire sage should very well know how risky of a situation he puts himself in then. Who knows, even an enemy could find Tormod out there, what with the obnoxious noise and the distracting fires he casts from spells.

And that very same enemy could do all sorts of foul, shady, and sinful deeds to Tormod when he's in that vulnerable state. They could threaten him, they could tie him up in constricting binds of rope, and they could even touch him where they shouldn't touch him. But what could Tormod ever possibly do when he has nowhere to turn to and no one to run to? What could Tormod ever possibly do without any resistance left in him?

Sothe would never allow it!

I love you.

Tormod shouldn't have to face those dangers. And Sothe shouldn't have to suffer because of Tormod's naïve stupidity. It was absolute. The fire sage won't fall under the hands of evil while Sothe's around. He wouldn't let anything bad happen to that crimson-haired sage. Besides, Sothe liked to believe that Tormod had always belonged to him, and no one else. The tender, gentle body lying comfortably in his well-toned arms would never be touched by the filthy hands of others. Tormod was Sothe's idiot, and Sothe's idiot alone.

And so, Sothe submitted to his lustful desires, slowly, slowly leaning in towards Tormod's adorable face, in towards his luscious lips, as if doing this would protect the fire sage, as if this would claim the fire sage.

I love you, Tormod.

Then he pressed his lips against his.

His heart went ecstatic. But perhaps Sothe was just being delirious, ―or maybe even, going entirely out of his mind. The airy feeling of buoyancy and aviation welled up inside of him, as well as the flood of butterflies fluttering within his stomach.

It was a chaste kiss, short-lived and almost irrelevant. But to Sothe, it was still overwhelming, no matter how short. Tormod's fair lips were rich with the most delicious sugar, and they were heavenly, perfectly soft and pink. Even if the kiss was as short as nothing would be, it was as sweet as honey. And Sothe would always remember it, the taste of Tormod's lips. Sothe would cherish this remarkable memory forever, as well as the promise he plans on keeping with his darling Tormod. Sothe will protect him from any danger, he'll pull him out of trouble when he gets too deep in it, and he will always love him, unrequited love or not.

I love you, Tormod.

There in the forest, the two had revealed everything there is to reveal. They exposed their own secrets and the fullest extents of their love for people, where and when no one would be there to witness it. And that was there, in the forest―only at midnight.

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The End...

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Side Note: I wrote the ending under limited time, so please forgive my desperate attempt at drawing this fanfiction to a close! The resolution is so unsatisfactory...

A/N: I don't know why, but every time I write fanfiction, the pieces always seem to drag on a lot longer than I originally liked them to be. This piece was no exception. When I first came up with this idea, I'd planned it to go like this: Sothe and Tormod share a tent in camp, but Tormod hasn't been sleeping in it. So Sothe goes out in the middle of the night to investigate. It turns out Tormod wanted to train himself to protect others (I planned the reasoning to be the same as the actual fic, but way less serious or intense, ― just FYI,) like Sothe, who has it so easy. But before Sothe could knock some sense into him, Tormod collapses out of fatigue. At once, Sothe takes him back to their tent. Then, after all of this worrying, Sothe realizes he has feelings for Tormod and kisses him as he sleeps. It was meant to be fluffy, really. I don't know what this is anymore. I guess this would be angsty romance…? _

Ah well, either way to me, Tormod's still that adorable fire sage and Sothe's still that stiff and cool rogue. They're an amazing couple and y'all know it. It's deep in all of your hearts. Maybe you still need to discover that love for them. Hopefully this fanfic did the trick! (But yeah right.)

Anyway, I'm aware. (Unfortunately for us all,) there were (most probably) parts that I could have gone without and parts that could have been there. It's obvious, isn't it? You can see it in the story. I know it's rude of me to request this of you readers, but, please excuse my mistakes. I'm too lazy to proofread 17,000 words and then revise those 17,000 words. It's too much work. Besides, school's right around the corner and I have to legitimately prepare myself for it. (It's my first year in high school, AHHH!)

\ (`V ` )/

OK, I'm pretty sure there's one last thing I have to say to you guys.

Pretty, pretty please, with lots of sprinkles and a giant cherry on top, REVIEW! That's another selfish and rude thing of me to request of you readers, but hey, I'm not alone. We fanfiction-writers, ― well, me, at least, ― love to hear what our readers want to say about our writing. When I don't hear from you guys, I seriously cry inside. I mean, how am I supposed to improve and make more fanfiction, when I don't know what you readers think? That's crazy! Besides, reviews motivate me to write more. (Music motivates me as well, not that that has to do with anything.) Other than that, they just make me really happy. You understand that at least, right? Please say you do.

Anyway, if you do decide to take your time to write me a review, I definitely accept any form of constructive criticism. But I do not accept any pitchforks, torches, bashing, and angry flaming, UNLESS there's a perfectly valid, reasonable, and logical explanation behind it. Besides that, I would be sad beyond belief. Thank you!

Alright, this A/N is going to keep going and going and going if I don't shut my yap. Sorry about that.

SO, thanks for viewing, you guys! I hope you liked it.