CHAPTER 1: THE VERY SOLEMN OATH

Disclaimer: I don't own Suikoden III or its characters. I'm doing this only for entertainment purposes. Oh yeah, the flashback idea comes from 'In the Hand of the Goddess' the second book of the Song of the Lioness Quartet series by Tamora Pierce. (The chapter when Alanna gets her first time of the month. It's really funny. )

A sweet, ladylike lass.

Chris Lightfellow absentmindedly wandered the gray corridors of the castle. She knew

she shouldn't have walked out of the room and spoiled the good time they were having. She shouldn't have reacted so belligerently and she shouldn't have so been hard on Percival. She would apologize, she told herself, but the thought of it made her feel flustered. How?

It had been so easy before, she would have simply taken him aside and mumbled an apology. He always understood. But at one point in time she had begun to feel a little queasy around the gallant knight– with his gentle, knowing eyes, and quiet voice. And when he teased her. She mentally shook herself.

It had been so easy. To tell him anything.

She remembered, when... Out of the blue, she remembered. Her eyes laughed at that, at her embarrassment and at Percival's kindness during that time they were both knights-in-training.

It was a cherished memory that had the habit of resurfacing during the most inappropriate times.

A young page-in-training, Chris had one day fallen asleep after an exhausting day of sword practice. For some reason she had been cranky the whole week, and many people backed off when they saw her glaring eyes swivel towards them in anticipation to tell someone off. Most of the jokes about her small frame and tomboyish nature were kept to a minimum as she stormed through the training grounds and viciously pummeled the other pages during practice sessions. She was a remarkably more temperamental than usual and the other pages, and maybe even the squires and knights, knew that this was hardly the time to goad her.

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She woke up that morning with blood staining her linen sheets. Amethyst eyes wide with horror, she looked for the source of the blood.

Where in the...?

"Goddess..." Her face blushed crimson. The blood was coming from that... place. The secret spot from between her legs. She nearly fell out of bed, frantically smoothing out the sheets to find out that it was fresh blood mingled with dried. She noted, bewilderedly, that she felt not a slight of pain, even if it was coming from... there.

Stop thinking about… that, and find out what's wrong!

Her mind worked furiously. Healer. A healer. She needed a healer to find out just what was wrong and... But whom would she go to? She panicked. It was too early to stroll down Vinay del Zexay Square parading in red stained clothing and trumpeting out the source of her distress. If she went to a castle healers that would just be begging them to tell the whole world about her predicament! Chris wadded up the dirtied sheets, stuffing them into the laundry. She quickly washed herself, ridding her body of blood, and, taking a roll of bandages from a cabinet she wrapped herself in between her legs. At least that would take care of the bleeding.

Her mind raced. Now who could fix this? Who?

"Why not..." she breathed.

Percival. Some of the tension in her left. Why hadn't she thought of him? He was a healer; he would know what to do. And her secret would be safe with him. The Goddess knew, along with every other lass that was old enough to ribbon her hair, that he was a magnet for attracting women. They would fawn over him, and he would receive them a little too courteously, and he had a growing reputation for being a heartbreaker, but she trusted him. He had kind eyes and was her good friend. Mind made up, she swiftly exited her room and made way down the hallway.

BANG! BANG!

"What in the name of Sadie-!"

BANG! A muffled sound.

Percival had just been abruptly shaken out of his meditation. He was too surprised to be irritated at receiving a caller so early in the morning. He wondered briefly if that Bellatrix girl who had been flirting with him the night before had come to get a good peek of him while he had just supposedly got out of bed.

You'll have to try earlier than that to see me in my loincloth, he thought, smirking. He then laughed inwardly. What was he thinking? He supposed the women always around him were starting to make him feel cocky. And that wouldn't do. If he got too arrogant Redram would definitely kick his behind due to his lack of concentration.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

"Yes, yes. Hold your horsies."

Horsies? He shook his head lightly. He was a common country bumpkin to the core, and he wasn't likely to forget it.

BANG! BA-

Percival opened the door mid-bang, just for good measure. And there was the young page Chris, closed fist flying out because of the sudden encounter of air when she had expected solid door.

"Whoa there!" Deftly catching the smaller figure, he steadily placed the lass upright. "No need to go red in the face, Chris," said Percival pleasantly, amused to see a tinge cross the younger girl's face.

"You must eat a ton of food everyday, with what you weigh. I'd wager a pillow of goose-down feathers would suffice for your weight," he said, talking as if he always caught flying visitors so early in the morning. He then made himself look a little more serious. Though she was making a truly comical face, the silver-haired girl looked extremely distressed. And not much distressed Chris Lightfellow. Not unless it came to dancing with men. He hid a grin. That would not help right now.

"Come in, lass, you look distraught." Percival smiled a little. He had always had a sort of fondness for the page. Maybe it was because neither of them felt at ease with the stuck-up nobles with their social calls and gatherings. For Percival's part, he didn't like it because of his roots in his hometown. He had grown up differently from the other noble-born boys from rich families that lorded over the peasants. At some point they were too haughty and condescending for his taste. They looked down on him when they couldn't find a drop of blue blood in his veins. But he was grateful not all nobles were so snooty, and Chris was proof of that.

"Chris," he called gently. The girl was frozen on the spot he had placed her.

Chris nodded stiffly. She looked cautiously left and right, and then rushed inside, a flurry of silver hair. Percival closed the door soundly behind him, and when he turned around she looked frightened but determined. What was going on?

"Percival..."

"I hear you. What's wrong?"

He saw the violet-eyed youth take a deep breath. "I need your help," she spoke quickly, "I trust you and I know you're a healer and I woke up today and there was blood on my sheets and when I looked for the source—" It all rushed out–

"—it came-from-between-my-legs-it-won't-stop-bleeding-but-it-doesn't-hurt-much-either-I-don't-know-what-to-do-I-can't-go-to-the-healers-and-I-need-your-help," she finished, rather out of breath.

Percival listened, mouth slightly ajar. He blinked. Perhaps he was trying to get meaning in her jumbled words. A sound suddenly issued from deep within his throat, and soon he was chuckling. The chuckling soon became a deep belly laughter and the brown-haired boy had to sit down on his bed before he fell over laughing.

"So... you can fix it?" Chris Lightfellow's voice sounded small.

"Lass," he started, but then his soft brown eyes crinkled up again in mirth and he clutched his stomach while his chuckles subsided. Chris heard a soft mutter of "she wants to fix it, by Sadie..." while he laughed quietly.

With all the excitement out of her, Chris was starting to feel a bit irritated that the cause of her distress seemed so funny to the older boy. "What?" she demanded.

"You see," he explained good-humoredly, "Chris, you're becoming a lady."

"I've been a lady to begin with," she snapped, rather crossly. A faint tinge of pink was starting to show up on her delicate features. Percival grinned apologetically, the kind smile that made women swoon, but he was not to know that.

"Of course you have, Chris. It's just that you're..." he trailed off, eyes widening, suddenly faced with the prospect of explaining something... embarrassing for a boy to tell a girl.

"I'm... what? Boyish?" She glared, misunderstanding.

"No, Chris! You're as ladylike as it comes here in the castle, and —really, you are! — it's just that… the reason for your blood flow is..." It was his turn to shade slightly. Percival Fraulein's glib tongue suddenly found itself dry.

Chris smiled inwardly. She decided he looked better that way. Percival seemed to read her thoughts. Raising an eyebrow, he coughed lightly, still blushing. "Alright. It's... your time of month." He fumbled for words when no dawn of comprehension graced the girl's face. "You know... when women reach... ah, a certain age, they get... well, um, changes in their body." He blushed heavily at that. Smart boy. He mentally smacked himself.

"One of those changes are when they are..." Oh, for...!

"—old enough to bear children, and they get what people call their time of month, or red flag, or monthly visitor, etcetera, etcetera," he tried to show no visible expression, but his face possibly reddened with each different term.

Chris nodded and stared, but Percival caught the slight grin. "Anyway," he rushed, "like people call it, it usually only happens once a month. It's perfectly normal to be getting it, and about the only thing you can do is wait for it to stop."

"So..." Chris began slowly, "How long does it last?" She was taking things rather calmly now, but Percival wanted to bloody change the topic. He was uncomfortable as it was. "Er… A week, maybe? I don't know." I've never bloody gotten one before now have I?

"Percival...?"

"…Yeah."

Chris looked uncomfortable. "Is it okay," she paused, "if you keep this a secret?"

The blush seemed to be subsiding. "Let me tell you something," he looked at her thoughtfully. "When I was five years old, I had a terrible, terrible dream." Chris stared, and Percival grinned.

"—And I peed on my bed. My mother was so furious that I ruined her newly-washed sheets that she locked me out of the house in my diaper. I kicked and screamed, bringing the whole... everyone storming in to find a boy bawling his lungs out beside a spotted sheet blowing in the clothesline. I'm pretty sure they could guess what had happened." Chris grinned at Percival's sheepish face. But she wondered why he was telling her this.

He solemnly raised his fist to his chest. "I give you my oath that I will not tell anyone of your secret, so I give you my own secret in exchange. Neither of us will divulge each other's lest we bring shame on ourselves for eternity and beyond. He paused grandly, just for effect, and clasped his fist to his chest. "Most of all, because of this, we will be bonded, by this oath that is not to be broken, and forever share a part of each other," Chris smiled and followed Percival's action with equal gravity.

"I solemnly swear it," Chris said.

"I solemnly swear it," he agreed. A delighted silence ensued, because somehow the two were closer.

The sun wasn't even peeking over the horizon.

It was Chris who broke the silence. "Well... thank you, Percival. No doubt I'd be floundering around had you not explained to me about…" She trailed off and left it at that. She received a wry grin in response.

"Well, Chris, now that you're a lady I presume I must walk you to your room?" Percival held up a hand in his best gentlemanly way, eyes turning mischievous. Chris playfully smacked him upside the head. Brown eyes laughing, he hauled her up amidst her protests. "I take that as a yes. Let me take you there then, milady! I'll be as gentle as you are?" He dragged her along. Laughing, and maybe blushing a bit, Chris made a mock attempt of kicking her aggressor.

"Unhand me, you scoundrel!"

Their laughing voices echoed down the hallway, early in the unbroken morning.

A smile touched Chris's lips, briefly.

It was so easy, then. Why not now? Why not, Lady Chris?

She is the finest woman I have ever laid eyes upon... Amethyst eyes widened. The Gale Swordsman's voice seemed to seep into her soul. His teasing hints, his playful jokes, his guarded face and his dark, unfathomable eyes. They held something.