This might be seen as shippier than they were pre-MAAN. But I like to think their defenses came down once in a while. This takes place prior to the events of the play, before Don Pedro's soldiers departed.

Ere I Went to Wars

It seemed like the whole of Messina had come to see them off. Despite the victory everyone was sure Don Pedro's company would have, there was still an air of sobriety to the normally cheerful town.

Claudio awkwardly chased glances at young Hero, who blushed whenever she'd meet his eyes. Don Pedro and his brother were walking around formally accepting everyone's well wishes.

Benedick stood surrounded by various women, all lamenting his loss.

"Now, ladies," he said, his voice affectively saddened. In truth, he would miss their attention, but not much more or for very long. "Do not cry for me. I shall return a hero!"

They giggled and chattered over each other, all bestowing their hothouse flowers at him.

"Maybe I will returned wounded and maimed," he predicted. "None of you will look upon me then."

They all declared the opposite, saying they would nurse him back to health most affectionately. He laughed and gathered the blooms to his chest, promising each of their owners he'd miss her most of all.

From over their heads, his eyes were drawn to the fiery entranced of a new person. His stomach tightened as Beatrice paused to take in the scene of departing soldiers and the women whose lives were surely to end without them. Benedick nearly chuckled at the revulsion he could feel radiating from her.

In her hand, she too held some flowers and his bristled. Which solder would be so unlucky as to receive a wilting blossom from the cold-hearted Beatrice? She held no perfect arrangement from a flower shop. No, her bouquet had been plucked from a neighboring field. Just like her: wild, independent, and completely beautiful.

Benedick scowled at the random description at the exact moment her eyes met his. Upon seeing the sour look on his face, she glared in defiance. Her attention turned to the entourage surrounding him, and her eyebrows arched, shaking her head in disgust.

Inexplicably feeling empty as she started to look elsewhere, Benedick glanced down at his nearest admirer, some pretty blonde who worked in the dress maker's shop. She batted hopeful eyes at him, eager for a special favor that would make her stand out from the others.

He started to address her when, from the corner of his vision, he saw the prince, the prince!, walk over to Beatrice.

Ice filled Benedick's veins as his leader stood nervously before the lady. They smiled and talked, Benedick aching to know what they were discussing. To his horror, Beatrice to started to blush and shyly gave a large flower to her companion. Don Pedro accepted the token and bowed with perfect grace. Beatrice's curtsy was perfectly executed, if not a little stiff as she tried to remain proper. The prince departed, and she looked down into the remainder of her flowers, a little smile gracing her face.

As if pulled by an invisible force, Benedick broke free of his audience, not hearing any of their pouty complaints. His eyes honed in on his red haired Lady Disdain.

She saw him approaching and stood straighter, ready for combat.

His head dipped back as a form of greeting. "Lady Beatrice," he said formally.

"Signor Benedick," she replied coolly. "Have you tired of all your followers so quickly?"

Despite himself, he smiled. "My heart breaks for each sad face I leave in Messina."

She smirked. "Indeed. Well, consider your heart a little stronger than you would have feared, for my face is not sad."

He could not deny that her words stung. It was a revelation he cared not to dwell upon. At all. "No?"

She shook her head and stood even more rigid, as if guarding herself against a strong gust of wind. "No, for my heart is not so easily given and therefore can withstand a few months of separation."

He stepped forward. She swallowed a gulp of air, uncomfortable. "It may be more than a few months," he said.

At that, her stoic mask faltered, just a little. "Tis only a small battle," she argued. "The prince assured me."

Upon hearing the mention of his leader, Benedick bit back a snarl. He chose to ignore why he suddenly felt such animosity for his more than generous commander.

"No guarantees can be made in war," he said more softly. "I may not come back at all. Shall you be sad then?"

"A little," she conceded. "For who shall be my fair opponent?"

He stared at her for a moment. "Who indeed?"

Rallying, Beatrice gave a small, genuine smile. "I know you to be a fine soldier. So much, I vow to each all of your killings."

He grinned at her insult. "You shall be well fed indeed."

Nodding, Beatrice fidgeted with her flowers.

Benedick eyed the small bouquet, a lovely mixture of blooms only found in the fields of Leonarto's villa: rare treasures bright and cheerful.

He stepped forward and she became a little rigid at his proximity. "I would fight more true if I had a talisman from a lovely lady."

Her cheeks burned, but she huffed and waved at the generous assortment in his hand. "You have all the luck you'll need."

Without ceremony, he dropped his entire burden, his eyes staying upon her fair features.

Her mouth dipped in astonishment.

"I am in need of a token, My Lady," he begged.

The flush upon her cheeks traveled through her entire form. Benedick inhaled sharply, taken aback at how luminescent she appeared.

Wordlessly, Beatrice fumbled through her bouquet, pulling out the largest of her collection: a rose that nearly matched the striking red of her perfect lips.

She held it out to him, and Benedick's skin sparked as their fingers touched.

Accepting the bloom with an overdramatic reverence, he smiled. "Thank you, My Lady."

Her head dipped a little and he could hear her breath catch in excitement. Without another word, she spun on her heel and fled.

Benedick felt a little colder in her absence, but he placed the flower up to his nose and closed his eyes, its scent forever reminding him of the haughty yet soft Lady who'd been so kind to offer it to him.

He would return to his Lady Disdain, he vowed. And he would never leave again.