Real Life Geek: "This story is really messed up."

Cynic: "Best of all, it's a two-parter! So there'll be more to come!"

Mashu: "No, my innocent eyes!"

Cynic: "Muwahahahahaha!"

Geek: "Maybe this was a bad idea…"

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Disclaimer: "Real Life Geek does not own the Suikoden franchise. He hasn't touched his Suikoden V game for months. He apologises in foresight to any minority groups, or people in general, offended by the following material. That said, this is crack, suck it up."

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Suikoden V Crackpot

Chapter 1: Alcoholics anonymous

Prince Freyjadour (Frey for short… and no, not Frey the Gay damnit); his (possibly French) bodyguard Lyon; his soon-to-be-a-traitorous-bitch aunt Lady Sialeeds; disgraced Queen's Knight and alleged pirate Georg Prime; and expert strategist and narcissistic psycho Lucretia Merces stood around the War Room of Poached Egg Castle (because there were no goddamn chairs, what the hell?!). Serious expressions covered their faces as the blonde woman called to order the first business of the day.

"I apologise for the early announcement," she began elegantly. "However, there is an issue that must be addressed immediately." An exaggerated silence followed her statement and the teenagers struggled to suppress tired yawns. Finally, Lucretia opened her mouth and spoke. "Does my game profile make me look like a dominatrix?"

Georg and Sialeeds face palmed and Frey and Lyon bounced off each other in shock. The quartet stared at Lucretia incredulously. She responded by whipping out her fan and flicking it open.

Lyon was the first to break the silence of impending doom. "What's a 'dominatrix'?"

The adults and, strangely, Frey blushed at the blunt question from the ex-Nether Gate member. The ebony-haired girl stared at her charge accusingly, whose blush deepened and gaze lowered to the floor. Realising he wouldn't talk (and they had to be alone before she could make him), Lyon turned her focus on Sialeeds and Georg. They gulped at the ferocity in her black eyes. "Well?"

Luckily for them, the double doors burst open and Logg the bumbling sea idiot stumbled into the room. His face was coloured in a heavy blush, his eyes were wide and crazed, his movements were sluggish and primitive and his speech was slurred and indecipherable.

Nothing out of the ordinary aside from the jug he was carrying.

"Ressy guzza baa open neeow," he declared before taking a swig. The females cringed in disgust at how well and truly wasted he was. "Carm hazza farn an' dreek oop!" He ambled back out the door, never noticing the disdainful glare from Lucretia.

Georg took one glance at the group before hurrying after Logg, muttering something about rum and yo-yos.

"Shall we check it out?" Frey asked Lyon who smiled and nodded. They departed the War Room together, leaving Sialeeds and Lucretia alone.

"Men are so pathetic," the chakram wielder drawled, flipping her hair.

"I agree." Lucretia looked herself up and down critically. "How do you think I'd look in leather?"

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Frey and Lyon finally found Retso's restaurant-cum-bar after fifteen minutes of walking through the labyrinth. They immediately blanched upon witnessing what was going on.

Lun was admonishing her father, who was so sloshed he thought she was Kisara. The girl freaked out when Logg started making advances and kissy faces at her while yelling about his "stunning sea scurvy!" until she was ironically saved by her rival. Subala immediately challenged her to a drinking match which took Lun all of two seconds to accept. She dodged one of her father's hugs and ran off with Subala to have their contest.

Georg and Kyle were giggling about the female Queen's Knights. Frey only heard what he thought was "nice rack" before his ears were covered by a blushing and fuming Lyon.

Unfortunately for the black-haired girl, black-eyed lass, that meant she got a full blast of a head-rattling rant from Egbert about "DESPICABLE GODWIN SCUM!" Frey chuckled slightly as Lyon wobbled back and forth on the spot; he surreptitiously took note that there was no sign of any alcohol anywhere near Egbert.

When Lyon regained her bearings she shot a quick reproachful glance at Frey before directing a lethal glare at Egbert who remained oblivious. Frey placed a hand on her arm to placate her and she blinked up at him in confusion. He smiled at her, causing her to blush coyly.

'1-all, Lyon!' he thought laughingly, outwardly chuckling at his bodyguard's embarrassment. He raised his hands in self-defence when Lyon glowered at him and they continued their tour of the bar.

"Lady Merces is a woman of grace and beauty!" Lelei yelled, waving a tiny shot glass around. Lyon ducked her head to avoid the liquid flailing around. "She is beautiful, intelligent and kind! I praise the Gods for every day I live as Lady Merces' servant!"

Her colleague Cius tried to calm her down, only to get a face full of wine. He sighed and resigned himself to more declarations of respect that could be misconstrued for lady love. He thought to himself, 'Why did I have to be partnered with the lesbian?' as he wiped himself off.

Frey smirked at the defeated expression on Cius' face. There was a time when the prince had thought of Lyon as a suck up. That was before she kicked his ass in their first ever spar – in front of his smug parents. She had been concerned for his well-being after the match but the triumphant smile on her face had made him think she was proud of her achievement. There had been a certain… cockiness in her countenance that had infuriated him. The moment he had seen the superior gleam in her shiny black eyes, he had sworn revenge.

The score currently stood at 41 to 3.

In Lyon's favour.

Damn it!

"Go to hell, you furry bastards!" screeched Toma the Lordlake brat.

"Toma, hold your tongue!" grunted grumpy Goesch, holding his fellow Lordlake resident by the collar. The ill-tempered boy thrashed in the older man's grip.

"Those beavers called me a midget!" he argued, giving the rodents an angry glare. Said furries grinned innocently. "I oughta drown you rats in a river!"

Even Goesch laughed at how ridiculous that sounded and Toma, seething and humiliated, stomped away to sulk on the castle grounds. The impetuous boy's departure roused more genial guffaws of giddy gaiety (heh, giggity), the beaver especially tittering at Toma's expense. Frey and Lyon chuckled and giggled respectively at the spectacle, grinning mirthfully at each other.

Unfortunately, their joy was short-lived when three drunken males sauntered up to then. Wilheim the bearded paedophile, Shigure the private-eye-slash-shaggy-dog and Roy the look-alike stalker were smashed and the way they looked at Lyon made her shiver with repulsion and Frey scowl.

"Leeteel laydee…"

"Kyootee…"

"Sweetee…"

"Cumm geev yer daddee summ shoogaa!" they chorused, not-so-pleasant grins plastered on their faces.

Lyon recoiled in disgust, her face scrunched up after smelling the putrid stench of alcohol on her admirers' persons. Frey discreetly smiled at her disgruntled expressions but all Lyon wanted to do was get away as quickly as possible.

"Prince, let's… let's go," she said awkwardly, keeping a wary eye on Wilheim, Shigure and Roy. Frey nodded and took careful hold of her arm as they attempted to make a speedy escape.

"Where yuu goin', sweetee?" Roy slurred. His naturally annoying voice and personality was further aggravated by his intoxicated state. "Loos dat roy… roy… prince twit and weel haf summ reel farn."

Frey whimpered and dived under a table as a massive killer intent was emitted by the seething Lyon. She was smiling as sweet as a peach but Frey could see her hands clench and twist in rage. For some reason he thought he saw devil horns materialise on her head as well.

Frey remembered the last time his normally amiable protector was that livid.

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Frey had just completed his turn around Sol Falena and retreated to his home. Once inside, he quickly sniffed himself and recoiled in shock at the stink. Quickly, he made his way to the nearest washroom, ignorant of all sights and sounds around him. Consequently, he neglected to hear the sound of splashing water and feminine humming.

He did, however, hear the almighty scream of his naked protector. He, and the door guards he had ignored, staggered back from the sheer volume, covering their eyes somewhat belatedly. They were quickly joined by a fuming, towel-clad, dripping wet Lyon, who caused the males' eyes bug out and legs to tremble.

Frey's distracted state led him to be shoved against the wall by the near-naked lady. He yelped in pain but it was ignored when she got up in his face close enough to see droplets of water run down her cheeks. He knew he was blushing fiercely from their close proximity.

Lyon smiled sweetly and Frey gulped nervously. She leaned in close and whispered, "Do you like what you see?" while deliberately lowering her gaze.

The only thing Frey could do was stammer incoherent babble for several seconds before literally pushing Lyon away and running while screaming like a little girl. He shut himself in his room for many an hour, rocking back and forth and sucking his thumb.

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Frey shuddered at the memory and silently pitied the pathetic drunken, screaming fools as Lyon beat them to a pulp. He couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of satisfaction from witnessing the carnage. Was it before she defended him? Was it because she was standing up for herself? Was it because there was a new memory to erase the old one (minus half-nude Lyon, he'd keep that)? Was it because she looked kinda… hot with her eyes flaring like two black fires?

Definitely kinky.

"Prince, shall we move somewhere else?" Frey blinked. The burning fury in Lyon's expression was gone and replaced by her normal submissiveness. He wondered briefly if it was Lyon's time of the month (very briefly) before nodded and being led away by the eerily-smiling girl.

Now who was being submissive?

Frey and Lyon made their way to a secluded area. They passed Belcoot and Marina, who were locked in a passionate kiss, and blushed horribly. The teenagers glanced at each other and, for reasons known only to each, their blushes deepened. Frey coughed gently to ease the embarrassment and together they shuffled to a vacant corner. They ordered water from the smiling Retso and sat back to watch the antics.

Suddenly, a slapfest broke out between Lun and Subala. It was like one of those female wrestling matches: open-palm slapping; biting; hair-pulling; body-slamming; eye-poking; and a lot of screeching. Subala appeared to be winning – she had fallen through fewer tables than Lun.

The fact that she kinda looked like a guy might've had something to do with it.

Frey sighed and suggested to Lyon that they should break it up. After all, they were the only sober people in the place (Egbert didn't count because he was a psycho, and Lelei was forcing alcohol down Cius' throat). The lady sighed but agreed, setting down her glass, and stood up with Frey. They dodged a flying squirrel – beaver, and hurried to restore order and minimise property damage.

In the ruckus, nobody noticed Georg and Kyle slip something into Frey's and Lyon's drinks and scuttle off.

Frey and Lyon returned to their drinks, disgruntled and worse for wear. Mortal danger had been averted just barely and the bar was back to its previous rowdiness. Hopefully that means some relative peace.

'Maybe this was a bad idea,' Frey mused before taking a sip – and spitting it back out. 'What the-? This isn't water!' He turned to warn Lyon immediately.

Only to watch her empty her glass with visible annoyance.

'Oh no,' Frey mentally groaned. He poked Lyon cautiously but blanched when she turned to him with her blush more pronounced and her dark eyes hazy. Frey gulped audibly when those eyes narrowed at him mockingly.

"Oh, Princey." The tone in Lyon's voice was snide and sarcastic, sending shivers down Frey's spine.

"Uh – Lyo-"

"Everee won baos daon the yeh lyk yeh God," Lyon drawled through slurred speech.

In the corner, a nerdy scribe cried silently at the grammatical nightmare.

Lyon snorted in a rather unladylike fashion. "But yeh not pur… pur… great, yeh know."

"Huh?" Frey was baffled and everyone had gone silent to hear Lyon's drunken ramblings. He dearly wished they hadn't, those nosey punks.

"Fur… Fur… Numba won," Lyon continued undeterred, "ya snore. Noot reel lowd lyk dat Fer… Fer…yer old man guy. Lyk a maose."

Everyone snickered and Frey felt his face blush with embarrassment. Lyon slurred on, regardless.

"Sec… Sec… Numba too, yer reel gurl like. Moor dan me even."

The males in the bar roared with laughter and Frey blushed up a storm. 'How am I girly?'

"Yeh got dat gurl lyk hair, gurl like face, skinny gurl lyk body," Lyon elaborated as if reading Frey's mind. Her face contorted into a resemblance of a pensive expression but all it did was made her look asleep. "Too bad yeh went throo poo… poo… poo… bah! Yeh groo up and stuff! Yeh voice aint squeaky and gurl like that hat-wearing brat no more."

"Hey!" Toma yelled, having just returned from his sook. How he knew Lyon was talking about him was anyone's guess.

"Shuddup midget!" Lyon retorted instantly, giving Toma a filthy look.

The Lordlake boy shrunk back in fright, not used to the goody-goody girl being pissed off at him. Usually she was like that girly Prince guy, trying to make everyone feel good. But damnit, no one called him a midget.

"I'm not a mi-"

"Yeh luckee Princey's a naise boi. I'da spanked yer til yer bum was raw."

"Lyon, that's enough," Frey finally said, grabbing Lyon by the arm and dragging her out of the bar. "Until I find out how she got drunk we're all waking up at sunrise every morning for drills."

There was a collective groan amongst everyone present but a withering glower from the prince silenced them instantly. 'Royalty does have its benefits.'

"I'm not done!" Lyon yelled, flailing in Frey's double-armed grip.

"Yes you are," Frey returned firmly and testily. He ignored his bodyguard's (?) protests and literally lifted her upstairs.

"No I'm not!" whined the pitiful Lyon as the plastered protector and the prince lugging her vanished from sight.

Frey grunted as he opened the door to his private quarters, a somewhat sedated Lyon now in his arms. Luckily, they hadn't encountered anyone – the prince carrying his bodyguard bridal-style would've raised too many questions for Frey's liking. The fact that she had taken to twirling his silver braid around her fingers wouldn't have helped either.

Frey, with some difficulty (Lyon was clinging to him like a needy kid to its mother) deposited the girl onto his bed. She gazed up at him with half-lidded eyes and a childish smile on her face. For some reason that made him feel guilty.

It was as if he was one of those guys in an h-game.

"You… you don't notice anything, do you?" the girl asked, her voice normal but her demeanour still impish. Frey stared back at her obliviously and she just sighed. "Girls drool all over you. We can't go anywhere without them staring at you."

"I can't help it," Frey replied almost automatically. Did his disguise suck that badly?

"Mmm, I know," Lyon said airily. "Nice, good-looking Princey can't help being a dreamboat." Frey blushed at the compliment from his bodyguard as she sighed.

"What's wrong?"

The girl got a faraway look in her eyes that made the boy feel a little sad. "Luserina… you like her?"

"Eh? Well… sure," was the tentative response. Frey didn't like where this was going.

Lyon nodded, unaware of Frey's inner turmoil. "She's pretty, intelligent, kind and has a good sense of humour. Plus she's a princess so…"

Now Frey was getting really nervous. While he did like Luserina platonically, there was no way in Hell he'd have that egotistical lunatic Barows for a father-in-law. Just the thought made him temporarily emo.

"Luserina Falena… hey, that rhymes!" Lyon giggled hysterically.

"Lyon, what a min-"

"Hmm?" Lyon sobered up momentarily but there was still a dangerous gleam in her eyes. "You want to take her name instead? Fry… Fry… Fry jar door Barows?" She burst into riotous laughter again and almost fell off the bed.

'Fry jar door?' Frey thought incredulously as he face-palmed. 'Is my name that hard to pronounce?... Oh well, at least it's better than Lymsleia.'

"I'm sleepy, Princey," Lyon piped up suddenly, swaying drowsily on the spot. "I'm… Nighty night…"

'But it's still morning,' Frey thought as Lyon fell backwards onto the bed. He sighed as he watched her snooze with a goofy little smile on her face. 'What was she really trying to tell me?'

Lyon started to shive and Frey realised there was a stiff breeze blowing through a nearby window. He grunted as he stood up before walking to the window and trying to close it.

The window hatches didn't budge.

'Did they rust from being underwater for so long?' he thought irritably. He returned to Lyon who was still trembling from the chilly air. He took barely two seconds before tucking Lyon under the sheets and she immediately regrew her silly smile. Frey marvelled at how peaceful she looked. 'She's kinda cute like this…I wonder what she's dreaming about…'

After a few minutes of watching Lyon sleep, like some crazed stalker, Frey retreated with some reluctance and sat at his desk. He contented himself with reading his father's journals that Georg had recovered during the Sol Falena escape.

The things his parents had done were weird… what was karaoke?

Meanwhile, Lyon's alcohol-induced dreams brought a wicked grin to her dozing face. No one heard her mumble, "Hit me with your fluffy nunchakus again, my prince… I am your slave…"

The End