Frederick considered himself first and foremost a knight. Ever since he was attacked by a large wolf as a child, he swore to never let anyone he was close to experience that same kind of crippling fear. And the only way to achieve this dream was to become a knight. Fortunate enough to be born in to a good family, it was not difficult for Frederick to procure the right training. He honed all of his skill and talent into becoming a chivalrous servant of Ylisse and the royal family. So why, of all things, after years of harsh conditions and backbreaking work, was he finding himself unable to even look Lucina in the eye?
Lucina poked her head into Frederick's tent. "Uncle Frederick?"
Frederick was jerked from his musings with a completely un-knightly yelp. "P-princess Lucina!" He scrambled to his feet and performed an awkward bow. "How may I be of service?"
Lucina stepped into his tent, looking around curiously. The great knight's living conditions were Spartan to say the least. His cot, although he had only seconds ago been reclining on it in deep thought, was completely made. The dirt floor that was serving as a temporary home for the night was cleanly swept. Frederick's weapons were gleaming from recent polishing and were clearly ready to be used for battle the next day.
"Uncle Frederick," Lucina began, looking steadily at the flushed man in front of her. "I realize this may be odd for you, however, in the future you helped raise me along with Mother. I know you as one of my closest friends and mentors."
Frederick hastened an unusually clumsy bow. "Thank you, milady. It is a pleasure to be acquainted with milord's future progeny." Why was he speaking in such an absurdly formal manner? Frederick clenched his fists in frustration, causing his well muscled forearms to flex.
Lucina, eyeing Frederick's involuntary motions, took a cautious step back. "Are you well? Have I bothered you in any fashion?" This was her first time seeing him out of his bulky armor and the princess found her eyes straying to his broad chest and shoulders. His linen sleeping shirt was hung slightly askew and she spied a dark flash of chest hair. Biting the inside of her cheek, she wrenched her gaze away and took particular interest with a piece of lint on her own blouse.
"N-not in any way you could have avoided," Frederick blurted, running a large hand through his messy hair. "Simply that in this time I only know you as a newly joined Shepherd and comrade."
The princess flinched. How embarrassing. She had only just revealed her identity and she was already making a fool of herself. "I… I apologize if I seem overly familiar…"
Frederick shook his head, causing his hair to stick up in the front in a way Lucina was well acquainted with. It put her at ease, knowing that some habits at least carried over with her Frederick.
He began to ineffectually explain himself. "It is only that—"
Emboldened by her discovery, Lucina stepped forward and placed a light hand on Frederick's arm. Peering upwards into his eyes she asked kindly, "Would it help if I only called you Frederick?" Up close, Lucina scanned the face of the man who had taught her how to swing a sword and how to clean a bear carcass. Except he didn't know it yet. His face was unlined still. There were no specks of grey in his hair, nor in his unshaved scruff. The princess found herself admiring the clean masculine structure of his face.
Frederick heaved a sigh of relief. Somehow Lucina had realized what had been bothering him. He had never been eloquent, but his sudden loss of communication skills around the princess was worrying. "Yes," he murmured. "That would put me at ease." He managed a small grin and he thought she would be able to see his heart pounding through his shirt when she received his smile with one of her own.
Slowly reaching her hand up in a manner that would not startle the great knight, Lucina gently smoothed his hair down. "There," she commented, tilting her head to the right. "Now you're perfect."
Frederick could not process the onslaught of ambivalent deluge of emotions overcoming him, however all he could think as the princess who looked so like his best friend bid goodnight and left his tent was, I would die on the battlefield for that girl.