A/N: Continuing my trend of updates that nobody will actually see until I point them out in the final chapter's author note! (I really oughta just post a fake chapter to get the attention of y'all.
Oscar and Kieran EEEEE.
Crimea and Daein have gone to war.
The thought had kept him up for the better part of the night. He told himself it was because he worried about his brothers. Boyd was seventeen, still hard-headed and hormone-driven. The chance for battle always made him eager to impress. With a war on hand and the inevitability of dozens of battles, the odds were that the fighter would be looking for some glorious victory, a minor wound that would be tended to by a pretty girl whom he would eventually end up marrying. That sort of thinking was what got men killed.
Rolf was still too young. Hardly past twelve. He had no fighting experience, couldn't even use a weapon. Still small enough to kidnap, too, if last week was anything to go by. Hell, the news had terrified him so much that he'd abandoned his and Boyd's room last night to come bunk with Oscar.
All of this was still just the fog that hung beneath the clouds. What about his former comrades? Geoffrey. Probably in charge of some of the defences around the castle. He was a good fighter. Wouldn't fail that easily. Had only ever failed at anything when it came to keeping Kieran out of the kitchen in the middle of the night. And Kieran…
The knight sighed softly, gently rumpling Rolf's hair. The boy stirred but didn't wake, and Oscar carefully climbed over him, mentally noting that against the wall wasn't the best place for his bed to be. After a brief and somewhat futile search for a clean shirt, he threw on yesterday's (it didn't stink too badly) and opened his door.
He smiled. His room was across and two down from Soren's. Ike stood outside the mage's room, cape wrapped around his waist and the rest of his clothing in one arm. He leaned in and Oscar heard him kiss the other man, whisper an 'I love you', then hurry down the hall to his own room.
The knight smiled and headed to the kitchen.
())CRAYOLA))
As he finished clearing the kitchen after breakfast, his mind began wandering. With nobody left to distract him, his mind wandered back.
If I hadn't left the Knights…I suppose I'd be fighting, wouldn't I? He sighed and began scrubbing the grime baked onto the pots from last night. Most likely would be…well, wounded at best. Let's not kid ourselves, Oscar. You're hardly a paladin. The thought seized him. But you were smarter than Kieran was. Is…he…?
Frantically, he shook his head. No. That man's too stubborn—or maybe just too stupid—to die. Absently he fingered the gold chain that rested around his neck. He smiled. But he said that he wouldn't die at the hands of anyone but his rival.
"Oscar Oscar Oscar!"
The knight snapped out of his thoughts as Rolf barrelled into him, shouting about Boyd tormenting him. Oscar sighed.
"Go find Mist. She'll find you something to do." Oscar chuckled. "But if any strange men with axes come after you, you scream like a devil, alright?"
Rolf was already partway out the door. "'Kay!" His oldest brother sighed and turned to Boyd.
"Can't you leave him alone for five minutes? He's worried enough as things are; he doesn't need you tormenting him too."
"It's how I vent my anger and frustration," Boyd said, putting on a perfect imitation of Greil. "Boss said that we're supposed to do what we can to keep de-stressed. This is how I deal with things."
"Bull," Oscar replied. "If you can afford to torment your younger brother than you can afford to help me clean." He smirked and threw the pot at Boyd, who fumbled for several seconds before he managed to get a firm grip. The fighter made a face.
"But this pot is hopeless—" he began. His words were cut off as a rag slapped him in the face. Oscar chuckled evilly.
"It'll go faster if we both clean," he pointed out. "Besides, that pot's been soaking all night."
The fighter muttered something about having the devil for a brother and reluctantly sat down. After a moment he spoke, not looking up.
"Who's Kieran?"
Oscar felt his face heat up and pretended to scrub down the counter behind Boyd. "Why do you ask?"
"Because you talk in your sleep. I walked Rolf to your room last night; the brat's too big of a pansy to walk across the hall by himself. You were muttering something about a man named Kieran when we walked in. Who is he?" Boyd turned to look Oscar in the eye. "You're not a fag, are you?"
"Where on earth did you learn that sort of language?"
"Answer me."
Oscar frowned. "I'll answer to nobody who holds no authority over me. You're being incredibly rude. What exactly do you aim to find out with this sort of attitude?"
"Whether or not my brother is a queer." Boyd's gaze bored into Oscar's. "It's not a hard question."
"And why would it matter if I was?"
"Because that would make you an abomination," the fighter replied. "It's disgusting. We've got men and women, and that's the way things should be."
"That's enough, Boyd. What lifestyle people choose is their own and you've got no right to condemn them for it. What does it matter if Kieran was a friend or a lover? Maybe he was the man who served us dinner at that pub a few nights ago and I remembered that we forgot to tip him. How would you know?" Oscar's scowl didn't disappear.
"I'm concerned for my brother's mortal soul, that's all." Now Boyd was smiling, just barely. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you like that."
Oscar sighed softly and placed a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Is this about Zayle?"
"Absolutely not."
The lance knight smiled. "Well…if it makes you feel any better, those townsfolk were out of line. They always had been, no matter what the situation was."
"It's not about him," Boyd murmured.
"Alright," Oscar replied, shrugging. He paused. "If you must know, Kieran was a friend of mine from when we were in the knights. He's the strange redhead that I used to go catch up with every few months. I'm just wondering if he and the rest of our platoon are alright." He chuckled. "I've got friends too, you know."
"Yeah, right," Boyd laughed. "You've got no friends. Don't kid yourself."
Lightly, Oscar flicked the back of his brother's skull. "Keep scrubbing."
())CRAYOLA))
"Oscar."
It took the lance knight three seconds to wake up. That was all the knights were allowed; with midnight attacks (rare as they were) they needed to be awake, armoured, and fighting within minutes. Oscar squinted through the darkness, trying to figure out whether or not he needed to be helping Kieran fasten his armour. When no other sound came, he sighed.
"What do you want, Kieran?" he moaned exasperatedly. "It's the middle of the night and unless we're being attacked I want to go back to bed."
"I heard that you were leaving tomorrow, rival." His voice was too close for him to be across the room in his bed. Oscar realized that the redhead was standing next to his bed. He sighed and sat up, feeling around until he found his candle and the flint beside it. Carefully he lit the candle and looked up at Kieran.
"Yes, I am," he replied. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"My sworn rival will be gone! What do you think that means? It means that I must train harder, for surely you scheme to secretly train in order to best me! If I allow that to happen then the name of the Great Knight Kieran will be tarnished forever. I cannot allow my name to be sullied! In fact—"
"I'm going to miss you, too," Oscar said, smiling.
Kieran's face turned the same shade of red as his hair. "Miss me? I wasn't aware that I was being shot at! I'll fetch a bow and then we'll see who misses who!"
"Kieran. My stepmother just died. We've got no parents now; dad died last year. Boyd's only twelve; Rolf's seven. They can't take care of themselves. I need to go home. They can't stay with the neighbours forever."
"You're hardly past nineteen," Kieran pointed out, sitting down next to the green-haired man. "Can you really take care of them?"
Oscar shrugged. "I've got my earnings. I've never spent much gold on anything I didn't need. I get a bonus because of this. I mean…it's not much. But it'll be enough until I find another job." He sighed. "But things will be boring without you to torment me regularly."
"Pah! It's not torment! It's training! To keep you on your toes! I can't have my rival becoming dull-witted, can I?"
"Indeed not." Oscar smiled. "Well, at least I won't have a roommate who snores."
The look on Kieran's face was one of absolute rage and he stood up, flailing. "Blasphemy! The Great Knight Kieran does not snore!"
Oscar burst out laughing at the indignant look on the other man's face. He caught one of Kieran's hands as the man flailed and pulled. Kieran stumbled and literally fell into bed with Oscar. His shouting sank into stammering in about half a second.
"R-rival…! H-how d-d-dare y-you make such an at-t-tempt on m-my life?! If-f I had f-full use of m-my arms I w-would have ut-terly d-destroyed you in this sh-short am-mount of t-time!"
"You snore louder than you stutter," Oscar purred, grinning. "Don't fret. You just fell, that's all. Looks like I win the contest of balance."
"Lies! Squinty lies!" Their too-close contact was forgotten as Kieran began shouting again. "I see what you're doing, you trickster! This is some sort of scheme to prove—"
"And I bet I can kiss better than you can, too." Internally, Oscar cackled. It was his last night; why not have a bit of fun?
Kieran was oddly silent, and the candle chose that moment to finally sputter, drowning in its own wax. They were bathed in darkness and Oscar suddenly thought that this had been a terrible idea.
"A true Royal Crimean Knight only kisses the one he loves," Kieran huffed indignantly. "He would never challen—"
It didn't matter what Kieran had been about to say. His lips were covered and his hair was just as soft as Oscar had imagined and Kieran had hesitated for only a second before reacting, pulling him close. Almost shyly, if Oscar were to be the judge.
"Oscar…?"
"A true Royal Crimean Knight only kisses the one he loves," Oscar murmured. "I'm going to miss you, Kieran."
He couldn't tell if Kieran was blushing. It didn't really matter, he supposed. They wouldn't see each other after this. He released the other man.
Kieran didn't let go. His face was pressed against Oscar's neck, their legs a tangled mess of limbs. Both breathing heavily, unsure of what was to come of this. Carefully Oscar replaced his arms around the other knight.
"…'m g'na mif oo too."
"Pardon?" Oscar smiled; this was too good an opportunity to resist. He felt Kieran's face heat against his neck.
"I'm going to miss you too."
He smiled. "Kiss me?"
"Please let me."
This Kieran was almost adorable, in his own way. The opposite of rowdy and annoying. Soft and shy. Were the stories, the intensity, the ridiculousness of the axe knight's everyday behaviour some sort of ruse? Some ploy to get his attention. The thought was almost flattering, and Oscar smiled against Kieran's lips. Experimentally, he flicked his tongue against Kieran's bottom lip. The redhead stammered something completely nonsensical. Oscar chuckled and gently kissed the other man, who immediately rolled them both over. A hot tongue slid into his mouth. He was caught completely off-guard and it was Kieran's turn to chuckle.
"I love you," the knight murmured. Even through the dark, Oscar knew he was smiling.
"I…love you too," Oscar replied. "…will you sleep with me?"
The stammering began again. "I-I-I-I d-don't th-think that w-we sh-should—"
"Not like that!" the lance knight said hurriedly. "I mean just…here. Like this. Y-you…feel good." Inwardly he cursed, wondering briefly if stuttering was contagious somehow.
A kiss was pressed against his neck gently. "So do you."
"G-go to sleep, Kieran." Curses, that was twice now.
"Mm." The redhead nuzzled against Oscar's neck, pulled their blankets up. "G'night."
Oscar smiled. "Good night."
())CRAYOLA))
Laughter woke him up. He frowned, squinted to try and make sense of the blurred shape in front of him. Eventually Ike was looking at him, smirking.
"So," he asked, holding in another fit of laughter and poking Oscar through the mesh of the hammock. "Who's Kieran?"