Author Note: Gah, this one took forever. It's set in an alternate universe, somewhat of a medieval time. Enjoy.


He was ten, and staring across the table from him was his future.

She was ten also, a cute thing with violet eyes and brown locks cut in a similar fashion to all the Houselord's daughters of the time. He stared at her bare arms, a tradition of unwed girls, and wondered why it was his fault she would one day be required to wear long sleeves at all times.

Yzak scowled as his pushed the food around his plate. He couldn't even remember her name from when he met her a mere two hours ago, but their lives were forever intertwined the moment his father arranged for their marriage.

Her gaze fell upon him, and he, already in a foul mood after being bested at fencing by Athrun earlier, stuck his tongue out at her. She visibly recoiled, but offered no retaliation, her delicate upbringing rearing its polite head. Instead, she bit her lip and grasped a gold pendant at her neck engraved with a Housenka blossom and the words "Praesidium et pacem."

Irked that his attempt at pestering her brought no satisfying results, he scowled again.


It made more sense at age thirteen, but that only meant he liked it even less.

His mother wanted her family over for dinner, and he was deemed capable of delivering the news. He grumbled at the prospect, of course, because the less he had to see of her the better and wasn't it the page boy's job to deliver messages?

(Of course, this may have just been a ploy by his mother to get the couple to speak, but he didn't know better.)

She was the leader of the Mai'nes Squad, an elite group of young dancers who performed before the High Chief on special occasions, and as such, she stood atop the precarious pyramid of twenty or so girls, poised to make her descent. Bending her knees, she dipped her head, Housenka pendant falling forward, about to jump when his shrill voice broke her focus. She faltered for a brief moment before her jump, lost precious momentum, and bungled her form.

He was worried, just for a moment as she plummeted to the floor, but Shiho quickly corrected herself and rolled as she made contact with the ground to avoid injury.

She glowered as she made her way towards him, the snickers of the other girls at her back. He tucked his hands into the pockets of his tunic as she came closer, trying to act nonchalant in the wake of avoided disaster he had almost caused.

He gave his message, she thanked him through gritted teeth, and he wondered if they would always hate each other.


They were sixteen when Nicol died.

Not that Yzak had cared much for the other boy, but Nicol was on his team in the training squad and as such they had formed that bond of camaraderie that came with military training.

Nicol was a gentle boy, highly skilled on the battlefield, although Yzak doubted that he could stomach war if the need ever arose. Regardless, Yzak trailed the school gardens the day of his death, thinking life unfair for taking such a young soul by sudden illness for no particular reason.

He saw her then, sitting by the fountain, leaning over the edge, and trailing a finger in the cold water. She turned when she heard him approach, quickly wiping remnants of tears on her face.

He knew she had liked Nicol. Knew since Haumea's Day two years ago when she presented Nicol with a white flower instead of him, and the rumors had run rampant ever since.

When he came and sat beside her, Shiho fingered her Housenka pendant that he had seen her wear every day since he met her six years ago. They sat together for hours, each in their own silent mourning, and when they rose to leave, he caught her hand in his, gave a quick squeeze, and left her as twilight began to set.


News of border skirmishes became frequent when he was nineteen.

He was sick of hearing reports of how the Alliance was invading PLANT territory, so he left his father's office and lounged on the terrace, reading a book on dry rhetoric he cared even less about.

Shiho sat nearby, delicate fingers guiding a paintbrush across her canvas of dark clouds over open fields of foliage. When he had come to tolerate her presence he knew not, but the steady rain was a calm soundtrack to their quiet arrangement. He glanced casually at her from where he lied on a divan, noticing for perhaps the first time the fall of her long, brown hair, the gentle flow of her dress down her poised back, her Housenka pendant nestled between her breasts.

Violet eyes narrowed, she hesitated her hand, brush wavering in the air as she bit her lip, a gesture he had come to realize signified her uncertainty.

"Hey," she said softly, still staring at her painting.

He looked up from the book he hadn't really been reading.

"What happens if these skirmishes escalate?" she asked.

"They probably won't." He turned a page.

She frowned. "But if they do?"

"The High Chief will most likely send out some military forces to dissipate the invaders."

"And if a war broke out? Will you be sent?"

He paused, then sat up, placing his book down beside him. "Are you worried about that?"

She bit her lip. "No." Picking up her brush again, she resumed her painting.

Yzak returned to his position on the divan. "I doubt it'll come to that, so you shouldn't worry." He flipped another page of his book.

Shiho clutched her pendant.


If he thought he knew nothing about marriage at age ten, he knew even less at age twenty-two.

She stood before him at the foot of the bed, scantily clad in a sheer red slip meant to entice him on their wedding night.

It was working.

Her eyes never left his figure as he stalked toward her. She turned her head as he bent down to kiss her neck, trailing a hand down her bare arm. Moving away from him, she shifted onto the bed, trying to find a position that would be "pleasing to his eyes," as her mother had instructed her.

He followed her, eager to begin. He scrambled on top of her, arms at the sides of her face, trapping her. Dipping his head, he kissed her possessively on the lips. When he broke away, she gasped lightly for breath and bit her lip as she stared into his cold, blue eyes.

He paused. "We don't have to do this if you're not ready."

"No," she said quickly. "No, I want to."

Frowning, he said, "No one's making us. We can wait until you're ready."

"No, I'm ready," she replied, steeling herself.

He was hesitant, but when she didn't yield, he moved to kiss her again. He was gentler this time, and she responded with initiative of her own.

In the morning, she would don a dress with long sleeves, and take up her place as head of Houselord Joule's home.


His steed prancing impatiently beneath him, Yzak grasped the reins tightly to steady Phantom Duel. He gazed across the open courtyard where others from House Joule had gathered to join the military force the High Chief had called for.

War was inevitable.

He readjusted the strap of his gauntlet, nervous and anxious to leave.

He was just about to order his men to move out when he felt a hand on his thigh. Shiho stood beside Phantom, doubt filling her eyes as she gazed up at his tall figure. Wordlessly, he reached a hand down to cover hers.

"I…I want to give you something," she spoke softly. Reaching to the back of her neck, she unclasped her necklace and placed it into his hand.

Stunned, Yzak could only stare at the precious Housenka pendant in his open palm. "I can't take this," he said after a moment. He moved to give it back, but she wrapped his hand in her own and closed his fingers over the necklace.

"'Praesidium et pacem,'" she said, reciting the words on the pendant. "'For protection and peace' in the Old Language. Please keep it."

He could hear the pleading in her voice. Placing the necklace in an open pocket by his breast, he thanked her.

Shiho tugged at her long sleeves as she watched Yzak guide his men out the gates of Joule Manor.


"This is ridiculous," Yzak said as he re-bandaged the long cut moving down his left forearm. He swore as he tugged too hard and the wound reopened, blood seeping through the white fabric.

"Be careful," Shiho admonished him from her position at the other side of his tent. She sat on a small, wooden stool, hands folded neatly in her lap, ever so poised like the dignified Houselord's wife she was.

He swore again, this time cursing the Alliance forces that had taken so many of his men's lives. It was miracle he was still breathing in this blasted war.

"It's already been a year. Surely the war is nearing its end?" she asked.

"One would wish," he replied bitterly. "But the Alliance refuses to heed any calls for armistice from the High Chief."

She sighed. "This war is terrible. We keep getting news of how the borderlands are constantly being pillaged and plundered. I hope my cousins are safe."

His wound finally bandaged, Yzak grabbed a dagger and set about sharpening it on a whetstone.

"How are you faring?" Shiho asked, concern evident on her face.

"Good enough."

"Are you eating well?"

"This is a war, woman. Who eats well on the battlefield?"

"Oi, who are you talking to?" asked Deakka suddenly as he entered the tent, allowing the flap to fall behind him.

"No one," Yzak grumbled, lowering his head, cheeks turning red.

"The commander's just received a message from the High Chief. He wants us there for discussion."

"Alright."

As soon as Deakka was gone, Yzak turned to the now-empty stool across the tent. He reached for the Housenka pendant at his neck and closed his eyes.

He missed her.


When the Alliance forces invaded the city of Unum Aprilius, Yzak was terrified.

He was pushing Phantom Duel too hard, he knew, but he desperately needed to reach his destination. Phantom had hardly cleared the gates of Joule Manor before Yzak had jumped off his back and ran through the burning pillars of the mansion.

Three days ago his commander had gotten wind of a surprise attack on the capital. He had pressed their army to mobilize as fast as possible, but they were still hours late for the attack.

Yzak weaved his way through the wreckage of his home. The smoke burned his eyes, but he was determined.

"Shiho!"

The stairs in the main hall had collapsed and parts of the roof had come down. He made his way to the banquet hall, where to his relief he heard her voice. It was short-lived, however, when he saw she was caught in the grasp of an Alliance soldier. The soldier had the front of her dress bunched in his hand, bringing her face dangerously close to his.

He snickered. "Where is the almighty PLANT military to protect you? Where's your commander husband to come to your aid?"

"Get your filthy hands off me, you pig," Shiho seethed, scratching at the hand that held her.

"Now, now, that's no way to speak to your captor," he snarled with a smile. He crushed his lips upon hers, holding the back of her head to stop her escape.

Shiho's eyes widen in fear when his tongue forcefully found its way into her mouth. She clamped her teeth down, and the soldier reeled back in pain, blood dripping from his lips.

He wiped his mouth, enraged. "Why you little—"

Shiho screamed when a sword suddenly protruded from the soldier's chest, inches from her face. The grip on her dress was released, the body of the soldier slumping to the side. Heart still racing, she lifted her gaze, locking eyes with her savior.

When Yzak took her in his arms, she buried her face in the crook of his neck and sobbed as the mansion continued to burn around them.


The celebration for the end of the war was a grand event considering all that had happened.

He stood on the dais as the High Chief gave him a commendation for his efforts during the war. As the names of the fallen were announced, he returned to the side of his wife who stood near the edge of the stage.

He was tired, so very tired. He turned to his wife, tracing the fall of her hair he had missed so much, memorizing her silhouette in the afternoon sun.

He slipped his fingers between hers and held tight, the Housenka pendant locked between their hands.