Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy Tactics or any of the characters therein. I am using them without permission and will cease to do so if asked. Please don't sue.


Chapter Nine: Between The Stars

"This should be a good place," decides Ramza, glancing around. We're several hours west of Limberry Castle, in the midst of green and rolling hills, though they're a little flatter and farther between than they are farther east. Copses of green trees dot the slope here and there, growing thicker as our travel progressed today, and they will continue to do so tomorrow while we keep on towards Dolbodar Swamp.

"Every place around here is equally good," opines Meliadoul absently, sounding almost bored as she studies the rest of the party. "There's no one in ten miles but farmers."

"Well, I still want a hill," mutters Ramza. "They're defensible."

The emerald-robed knight spares him a withering look and he falls silent. "Of course they are," she agrees dryly. "What's wrong with this hill?" The peak on which we stand boasts a clear area at least fifty paces across, with a good view of the surrounding terrain.

"Nothing," he insists irritably. "I just said this place looked good!"

"So camp here!" snaps Meliadoul, rolling her eyes. "God."

Ramza glances at me as though for assistance, but I cross arms over my chest with a grim smile. You let her come along with us; you deal with her.

Shaking his head mutely, Ramza nods back at the rest of the party and shrugs out of his backpack. The others slow and do likewise, stretching backs and chatting.

"Whose turn is it to get the fire going?" wonders Mustadio. "Alicia's?"

"It's y..." Ramza pauses, then frowns. "No, wait..."

"Yes," I answer for him, smiling at the mechanic. "You're not until tomorrow night."

Mustadio nods and wanders off. Meliadoul frowns after him, then shifts the expression consideringly to Ramza. I don't think she's aware that she's staring.

I'm fairly certain I know what she's thinking about. From the conversation between the two of them while we travelled, she had expected Ramza to be a bloodthirsty brute of a man, or at the least a considerably more... forceful... personality. Finding out that he's as mild as the milk he typically drinks does not seem to have diminished her respect for him, but it has given her a rather healthy amount of impatience for what she perhaps sees as indecisiveness. I think she's still trying to figure him out, trying to reconcile nice Ramza with battle Ramza.

She must sense my gaze, for she turns to me with a sharp frown. "What?"

I blink, then stroll over to where she is. "Do you want your sword back?" I ask, touching the hilt of the weapon we stole from her in Bervenia.

Meliadoul shifts her attention to the blade, then giggles. "No, that's allright. I've got Save the Queen now," she explains, patting the hilt of the weapon currently on her hip. "You can keep that one, sweetie."

Sweetie? I hesitate, glancing with narrowed eyes towards Ramza, but he's actually watching us from where he's standing a short distance away, so rather than punching Meliadoul, I shrug and walk away.

Rafa appears by my side, smiling at the ground. "Don't worry about her, Agrias," she murmurs. "She's just trying to prove herself with everyone here."

I snort, shuffling over to where Lavian is producing rations from a backpack. "I think she's just like that all the time," I admit.

"Well, maybe," shrugs the white-clad woman. "She means well, though."

"Oh, I know." I smile in thanks as Lavian hands me some dried meat and an apple we found earlier in the day. "I'm not worried about that, at least."

Rafa smiles as well as she receives her own food, and we stroll a short distance away and sit together, literally; she actually leans against my back, settling in there comfortably. I've grown used to how touchy-feely she is, but it's kind of odd how she's only that way with me.

Shortly Malak folds himself up next to us and says nothing, instead just gazing distantly off over the hills as he eats. He still doesn't speak very often.

Once Meliadoul figures out how the food is to be dispensed, she grabs some from Lavian and then stands in place, glancing around the campsite. Her face is oddly stiff as her eyes dart from one small group to the next, and I find myself blinking; she doesn't know where to sit. This is the first gap I've seen in her armor, the first flickering in her blinding overconfidence.

Eventually her hood swings towards where Ramza is slapping dried mud from his breeches and she sets out towards him, her stride long and purposeful. The knight folds herself up, sitting beside him, and her face lights up to laugh at something he says in greeting. I can hear her response but can't make out the words at this distance; her voice is loud, and carries well.

Shadows grow longer as we eat, but not by much, so with a belly that's at least not rumbling emptily, I stand and find a bokken among our party's belongings. Alicia appears beside me, rummaging about until she finds paired wooden blades to take the place of the ninja edges she just started carrying. Opal and Malak begin heading over towards us as well.

I face off against my former subordinate and begin battling without a word. Though she's still unfamiliar with the two-weapon technique, she is lithe and quick, and only the bokken's greater reach keeps me from earning a body full of bruises.

As we fought, others wander over as well, Ramza to match blades against Ironside and Meliadoul against Hannibal. The Shrine Knight seemed surprised, by what I heard, that we train against one another so often, but the news apparently pleased her well enough because she leapt right in.

When Alicia and I finally finish, Hannibal and Meliadoul are winding down as well, and little wonder, with all the metal they're carrying around. I'm armored as well, of course, but the bokken is light and I don't have a shield weighing down my off arm.

"So," exhales Meliadoul, wiping sweat from her forehead. "You all do this every night?"

"Pretty much," nods Hannibal, grinning. "Not used to it, are you?"

The Shrine Knight shakes her head. "I will be, though."

"Good," snorts Hannibal. Still grinning, he roams off in search of Strawberry to bother. Alicia follows him, stretching and grimacing, leaving me alone with Meliadoul. Thanks, Alicia.

"You people are good," observes the robed woman absently, watching the others spar. Her tone indicates that this is not a compliment so much as a surprise, that anyone would even approach her level of competence. Wooden blades clack here and there in a syncopated clatter.

I know we're good, Meliadoul. We beat you, remember? I try to keep from smiling smugly as I nod. "Skill follows effort." As I watch, Orlandu steps to interrupt Opal and Malak, offering pointers to both.

She frowns at the only other pair still fighting. "Look at Ramza," she murmurs, giving no indication she heard what I just said. "He's so fast. So precise. It's like you could drop a sheet of paper in front of him, and he could carve it into a flower before it hit the ground."

I spare her a wry glance. "Haven't you ever seen ninjas fight before?"

Meliadoul blinks at me briefly before resuming her study of the distant men, little more than battling silhouettes in the growing twilight. "Of course," she replies distantly. "He seems different somehow, though."

I chew a pensive lip at this but say nothing. Boots whispering in grass announce the arrival of Mustadio, eating an apple, but I don't think Meliadoul notices, caught up as she is in her study of the man she was planning to kill earlier today. A short distance away, Malak and Opal conclude their practice, bowing to each other, then wander back with Orlandu.

"Isn't he?" presses Meliadoul, still not looking at me. "Different, I mean."

Of course Ramza is different. He's unique. "He is," I agree. "Everything he does, he puts his whole heart into it. Battling isn't just a profession for him; it's part of him. A part he still hates."

Meliadoul raises her eyebrows suggestively at the seriousness of my answer, then tosses her head and stares at the Beoulve once more. "He's so quiet," she notes. "Not at all like what I thought. It's kind of cute, really."

Heat grips my heart at this; I'm not certain what emotion it is, but after a moment it fades. "Others have found him so," I agree carefully.

The other woman's lips curve, perhaps hearing a challenge in my words rather than the warning I intended. "Nice ass, too. Don't you think so? Look at it."

I scowl in Ramza's direction. "I don't pay attention to things like that."

"I'm sure," she replies sarcastically. Chuckling quietly, she shakes her head, then twitches, apparently just now noticing Mustadio. "What are you looking at?" she snaps, glaring at him.

The mechanic gazes at her mutely for a time, chewing a mouthful of apple, then swallows. "Did you know your full name is an anagram of 'illuminated ogle?'"

"What? What the hell does that mean?"

Mustadio glances at me for some reason, then shrugs. Taking another bite from his apple, he leaves, strolling back towards the rest of the camp.

Silence falls between myself and the suddenly-irritated Meliadoul. In the deepening twilight, Ramza and Ironside continue to challenge one another, honing their skills with the dedication that only masters possess. Stars wink down from above in odd patches; clouds have moved in, obscuring some of them.

Finally I sigh. "We'll be doing watches shortly. I suspect yours will be the morning watch, but ask Ramza to be certain."

She grins. "Thanks, Agrias. I'll do that."

I nod, turning to walk back to the others to set up my bedding. I don't think she realizes I'm not fond of her.

The next day it rains. Not heavily, but constantly. We march under the steady precipitation towards where the fertile Dolbodar turns the surrounding landscape into a riot of choking vegetation, a swamp to rival any other I've seen. The distinction between river and bank seems to blur here, and most times the ground sloshes rather than squishes under my footsteps. The trees above us help to keep away some of the rain, but by that point I'm already so soaked it doesn't matter.

Like many uncivilized places, Dolbodar Swamp has a reputation as being a haven for monsters, but they leave us alone as we travel. Or perhaps the reputation is overblown. In any case, what the swamp does seem to possess in abundance is snakes, and not all of them are on the ground.

At one point as we're walking, or wading -- I can't really tell -- Lavian screams. I whirl around in surprise and see that a hand-thick snake has fallen from the trees onto the summoner.

Ironside reacts with instant violence, pivoting to punch the offending creature, but this just sends a flailing Lavian stumbling into Meliadoul, knocking the latter woman off-balance as well. Hannibal leaps over to grip the snake in one gauntleted fist and manages to wrestle the panicked serpent away from Lavian. As he does so, a large splash announces Meliadoul's fall into a mud puddle big enough to fit a morbol or two.

The party turns to watch uneasily as the Shrine Knight pushes her face slowly and deliberately above the surface of the murky water, growling like an angry cat. The snake, forgotten, slithers quietly away through the damp underbrush.

I sigh. I don't like Meliadoul, but she doesn't need everyone just standing and staring at her. Stepping into the water, I make my way carefully towards her.

Somehow Ramza beats me there, wading through the hip-deep muck. "Meliadoul," he murmurs, holding a hand down, "here."

The woman's murderous scowl fades into cool neutrality as she blinks up at him. Finally she places a gloved hand in his own, accepting his help as he leans back, lifting her to her feet out of the swampwater. "Thank you," she admits stiffly, frowning at him as though weighing him anew.

"It's nothing," shrugs Ramza, turning to slog back through the water with her towards solid ground. "You'll be cold, too," he decides. "You can have my raincloak." As he speaks, he unfastens the oiled cloth from around his neck, then drapes it over her shoulders.

Meliadoul fingers the water-beaded material for a moment before her face relaxes into a pleased grin. "Such a gentleman," she observes slyly, though without malice. "You should have a care who you show your kindness to. You might not know what effect it has on people." Ramza blushes at her words.

As I watch them, I can feel my eyes narrow. My fists clench of their own accord.

I don't like this. Not at all. I was happy before, with Ramza and everyone. He shared much of his time with me, talked to me all the time, but now she's here and she's going to mess everything up. I don't know what to do, though. If she tries to claim him, I really have no right and no reason to try to stop her. Though I'm not sure Ramza would have any of it; wouldn't his "someone else" get in the way again? Someday I'd like to meet this mysterious woman. Or man. But probably woman.

"Agrias?" calls Alicia, staring at me oddly while the rest of the party resumes travel. "Are you coming?"

I blink at her, realizing I'm still in the middle of the water where they left me. Muttering, I nod quickly and stride over to drier ground.

The rest of the day's travel passes without further mishap. I walk in the middle, though, instead of the front; if Ramza wants to be all gallant to our new knight, let him.

It stops raining just before we stop for the night. We've passed through the swamp, by now, and have emerged into some hills that will grow even rougher by the time we pass Bethla tomorrow. There are still plenty of trees about, though no one would call this place a forest.

As we begin to set up our camp on the soggy ground, Opal produces a trio of rocks and begins juggling them. I smile faintly at that; I've been travelling with her for almost a year and didn't know she could do it. Rafa approaches the monk, smiling, asking for Opal to teach her, and within moments half the party is hunting about for suitable rocks.

Thus it happens that we juggle in lieu of training with weapons tonight. I even try my hand it, only to find I've no skill at all. Mustadio seems to excel, though; I suspect he knew how to do it before and just didn't say anything.

Eventually the clouds above break up, revealing slices of diamond-dusted sky and a bare sliver of shining moon. I end up sitting with Ramza and Strawberry, watching the others trying to juggle in the dark. Mostly it seems to involve laughing and dropping rocks.

"We should have tried that with something softer," sighs Ramza, examining one bruised thumb. "Rocks hurt."

Strawberry snorts. "That's why you don't get your hand between them when they're flying towards each other."

He frowns at her. "That's easy for you to say. You didn't even try it."

The spellcaster smiles. "Indeed not. And so my hands are uninjured."

I snicker at this. Ramza eyes me as though in reproach, but he ruins it by breaking into a smile as well.

"How long do you suppose they'll go?" I wonder aloud, nodding at the aspiring jugglers in the center of our largish clearing.

Strawberry shrugs, idly examining her fingernails. "Until someone else gets hurt, I would think."

Ramza turns a frown on the gathered others. "Well, I don't want anyone else to get hurt. And I'm not, really. It's just a bruise."

I give his shoulder a friendly push. "She's just making fun of you," I explain. The spellcaster chuckles.

"Oh. Right." He shakes his head.

Silence falls between the three of us. Laughter bubbles over from the others after Rafa drops another rock on her foot.

"Where's Meliadoul?" asks Strawberry idly.

Ramza twitches, then studies the jugglers before finally sighing. "I don't know. I'll go find her." He pushes himself to his feet.

Something tickles my mind, my bodyguard's senses recognizing something amiss. Meliadoul is a crafty, clever tactician, I recall; she ambushed us expertly in Bervenia, and she was certainly intending to attack us from behind in Limberry while we were fighting Elmdor. Something is going on here.

"No," I urge, reaching to touch his wrist. "Don't bother. I can do it."

He turns to eye me, then beams a smile. "Okay. Thank you, Agrias."

"Don't mention it," I reply, rising fluidly to my feet. As Ramza settles back with Strawberry, I scan my surroundings with a critical eye. If I were Meliadoul, where would I have gone? After a moment of hesitation, I start jogging down the gentle slope and into the trees.

I move as quietly as I am able through a blanket of leaves and the scattered underbrush. The broken moonlight above makes this place a thicket of shadows as well as of trees.

By instinct alone I travel, pausing every now and then to listen to my surroundings. I am not an expert hunter by any means, but I can listen to the call of birds and animals, noting where they seem louder and where quieter. I know that some will have moved as the Shrine Knight passed, and others will flee her wherever she is now. Silence is my guide here.

Perhaps twenty minutes later, I step carefully down a rather rough bush-studded incline and emerge onto a broad flat rock jutting into a small pond, little more than a watering hole, a mere twenty-five paces across. Meliadoul is standing in the water not far from me at all, perhaps five paces, in water up to her waist; it must be a rocky bottom, to grow so deep so close to the edge. Her belongings, including clothes, are neatly folded together near my feet.

The knight's back is to me, and she is bent forward, shaking her head in the water. As I watch, she stands upright, flinging her hair back over her head. It is brown, I note, like Izlude's, and hangs not quite to her shoulders. Moonlight paints silver streaks on her pale skin as water runs down back into the pond.

She pauses, wrapping arms slowly about her chest, though I can still see only her back. "Is someone there?" she calls softly, head tilted to one side; her voice lacks the startlement or agitation I am listening for, almost as though she expected someone to come.

I smile slightly, squatting to retrieve her emerald robe. So that's what her ploy was. Clever. "Yes," I answer. "Someone is."

Meliadoul leaps, whirling around to face me with wide eyes and an open mouth. For a moment she just stands there, dripping, then gives herself a shake. "My God," she breathes. "I thought... I thought you were..."

...Ramza, I finish silently for her. She doesn't even have any soap or anything here, and the mud from earlier today has long since been rinsed from her body. She's just been waiting for him to come here and find her unclothed. My heart pounds, a furious drum within my chest. "For God's sake, Meliadoul," I mutter, tossing her robe to her. "Put some clothes on."

She catches the garment but still continues to stare at me as though I represent some profound and cosmic mystery. Eventually she blinks, shifting her gaze to the bundle in her damp arms. "I... Okay. I will."

I nod, folding arms over my chest, and wait. It's not that I don't trust her, exactly, but a little extra safety never hurts.

When I don't move, she scowls at me. "What are you staring at, Agrias? Do you want some?" Though she holds her arms out to her sides, exposing her breasts, her voice makes it clear she's issuing a challenge, not a proposition. She's just trying to make me uncomfortable, to gain the upper hand here. She thinks she can drive me away, thinks perhaps I won't tell Ramza what happened, out of embarassment. He'd have to come find her anyway, in that case.

"Hardly," I answer, backing up a couple of paces to give her room on the rock. "I'm waiting to make sure you dress. I don't think you'd march back to the camp in just your skin to get Ramza's attention, but I also don't think it's beyond you." I feel like I'm talking to a child, which is curious; she's my age, or maybe a little older, but I can't help but think of her as a younger woman, maybe a teenager.

She glares at me, lips curled in a sneer, as she starts sloshing towards me. "Why do you care?" she snaps. "You're not his mother or his lover."

I shuffle backwards again, stepping from the rock onto the adjacent mossy soil. "That's true," I concede evenly. "But he's a good man. He deserves better than to have you toying with him like this. He's completely inexperienced in these matters." Well, except for the incident with Lavian. And apparently... Kyoko, or whatever her name was, whom he knew before. Hmm. "You could easily hurt him."

"I know he's a good man," mutters the Shrine Knight, climbing out of the water and onto the rock. "Don't you think I know that? That's why I'm here. It's why I like him. I don't see what's so wrong with that."

"Discounting the battle in Bervenia," I observe, "you've known him for a day and a half. Is that really enough time to make such a decision?"

Her eyebrows lift in surprise. "Why wouldn't it be? You don't have to know someone for years before you can realize that. I've seen him; I know he's cute and he's got a good heart. Why wait?"

I shake my head helplessly. "Please, just dress." God, she's better endowed than I am, isn't she? Not that I care. I'm not competing for anything. She's prettier, too, with little brown freckles on her cheeks. I hate that. I also hate that she's taller than me, almost Ramza's height, forcing me to stare up to meet her gaze. Not that that matters to me either.

Meliadoul mutters under her breath, something that sounds off-color, but she does what I ask, slipping the robe over her head and climbing into her boots. She retrieves her armor from where it's sitting but does not don it, instead just holding it in her arms.

Once she's ready to move, however, she doesn't. She stands there on the rock, face still wet, and stares at me. The usual confidence is no longer in her eyes, green eyes like the color of her robes; in its place is something almost like fear. "Don't tell him," she urges in a low, pleading voice but unable to say the additional word.

I shake my head slowly. "I won't. Don't worry." I probably should, but despite my irritation I have no wish to humiliate her. "Let's go."

She nods, and together we set off up the incline and through the trees. There is little conversation as we travel, just one brief exchange.

"You like him too," she states, not looking at me.

"I don't," I counter. "Not like that."

"You do."

"I don't."

Meliadoul drops it there, and I fight a sigh. Does she really think I'd contrive some game to get him to see me naked? If I wanted him to see me unclothed, I'd make sure he did. Well... okay, maybe I wouldn't; that would be awfully difficult and rather embarassing, and I'm not forward like that anyway.

My cheeks heat as we walk. She's a terrible influence.

When we finally get back to the camp, it's not soon enough. She goes one way to make her damp bedding, and I go another to make mine. Ramza eyes me in question from where he's sitting watch, but I shake my head and shrug, and he simply nods.

It's at least a little drier when we wake the next morning. Soon we're off travelling, with me once again at the front with Ramza... and Meliadoul. Every now and then she gives me an odd glance, and I'll admit I probably do the same to her, but there is a slim measure of respect between us now, or at least of comfort, as we've each found some measure of advantage over the other: she thinks she's learned something secret and insightful about me, and I've seen her naked. Also, I know she's not merely teasing Ramza, although that fact in itself presents difficulties.

In addition, it doesn't hurt that I now have dirt on her. I wouldn't use it -- I gave my word -- but it's there nonetheless.

By midday we pass Bethla Garrison, never getting more than a half-mile from the fort. Ramza points out the lake, which looks perhaps a little smaller than it was before, to Meliadoul, and explains everything we did that day. To hear him tell it, he did nothing at all, while the rest of us came up with all the ideas and did all the work, and Meliadoul smiles. I think she sees through his modesty.

They chat for a fair amount of the day, getting to know one another, much like Ramza and myself once did. He explains about his family and his childhood, stories I've heard before but still like hearing again, if only because they're windows into his personality. Meliadoul talks about her own past as well, being raised by Vormav -- who apparently used to be a loving father -- and growing up with Izlude, whom she loved. She learned the sword as a girl, she said, and wanted to grow up to be like her father.

I can't say I care for the correlations between her story and mine; they paint us in similar colors, make us out to be more alike than I want us to be. Still, I suppose we are both knights, and if it weren't for the complication of Ramza's presence I might not even mind her very much.

When we make camp that night in another set of hills -- this part of the world is rather uneven -- we eat, then train as usual. To my discomfort, I find that the only person remaining for me to battle is Meliadoul. Serves me right for chatting so long with Rafa over my food, I suppose.

The Shrine Knight's face is a grim mask of concentration as we battle, and I wonder if, in her mind, we are fighting for more than the simple reward of learning. Regardless, after an hour I believe I come out ahead, though I still have plenty of bruises; although she's fast and fierce with the blade, she hasn't had the advantage of running around Ivalice for months with a bunch of crazies who want to learn everything about everything where fighting is concerned.

If the sparring has more than one meaning for her, though, she's at least very proper about it. After we are done she even bows to me in respectful samurai fashion, and I make certain to return the gesture with sincerity. If we are indeed opponents in some game or other, she is a worthy foe.

All of her decorum vanishes after the blades go away, however. As a campfire blazes on one end of the camp, the three of us lay on our backs at the other end, gazing up at the stars. Meliadoul reaches out and plays idly with Ramza's hair the entire time. If he notices anything out of the ordinary, however, I can't tell; he seems as happy and thoughtful as ever.

During one of many lulls in the sparing conversation we keep, I glance over to watch her with a frown. She's not just playing with his hair now; she's actually caressing it, if absently, as though they are lovers falling asleep after a night of passion. Ramza's face is a portrait of contemplation as he stares up at the dusty sky.

It hurts, I'll admit, to see her touching him like that. I don't know why, if it's Meliadoul's irksome presence, or if the years of loneliness are finally catching up with me, but it makes me want to cry, makes my stomach physically hurt seeing her affectionate fingers in his hair.

I want that, I realize. I want someone to do that to me.

The stars begin blurring, and I blink my eyes a few times to clear them. How did this happen? I'm so old now, so used to keeping my distance, I'll probably never find anyone. Who would even want me, anyway? Most men likely see me as distant and curt. I squeeze my eyes shut and chew a lip to keep it still.

"What are you thinking about, Agrias?" wonders Ramza from where he lies next to me. Fortunately, the angle of his voice suggests he is speaking at the sky, not looking at me.

I swallow a bitter laugh at his timing. Rather than answer right away, I wait a moment until I'm certain I can speak without my voice cracking. "I'm thinking about nothing," I answer truthfully. A whole lot of nothing. That's what's going to be in my love life for the forseeable future, probably the rest of my life.

"Oh, come on," he entreats mildly. "How can you look at the stars and think of nothing?"

"Because that's what's between them all," answers Meliadoul in my place. "That's most of what's up there."

Ramza chuckles, and silence again falls over the three of us, but he must not have gotten the answer he wanted, because eventually he prompts again. "Agrias?"

"Well, I think of something a lot," I shrug. "It's only fair that I give nothing a chance."

"Whoah," he says after a moment. "That's profound."

I snort, but say nothing. Why is it he almost never finds fault with anything I say? It's endearing, but it can be odd.

He does not ask Meliadoul her thoughts, though, I note. Likely he just knows she'll tell them to him whether he asks or not.

Long moments pass. I can hear Orlandu's deep laugh from the fire; Lavian is probably telling one of her stories again. The night is growing a bit chilly, and the warmth of the fire appeals to me, but I can't find the will to get up.

Once more Ramza is the one to break the silence. "It's about time to sleep," he sighs. "I'm going to start on watches again. Meliadoul, you'll take last again?"

"I will," vows the Shrine Knight quietly. "No harm will come to us while I'm on watch."

"Good," chuckles Ramza, slowly climbing to his feet. "I'll go tell the others."

As he wanders off, Meliadoul rises as well and trots after him. My stomach twists up in knots again, but I tell myself she's probably just going to bed. If she didn't try to steal into his blankets last night, she probably won't tonight either.

With them gone, I lie alone under the stars. Totally alone. Odd; once, the stars meant companionship, back when I would share Ramza's watches with him. I enjoyed those times. I was happy. I suppose I could do it again now, with so many of us on watch duty anyway, but it would probably strike him as out-of-place or inappropriate.

Eventually I sigh and rise, if only because lying on a blanket will be more comfortable than lying on the ground. Meliadoul is indeed curled up into a ball in her own bedroll, I note, though the sight barely does anything to relieve the coldness in the pit of my stomach.

I fall asleep almost as soon as my head hits the pillow. I guess I just don't feel like being awake anymore. When Opal wakes me to take my watch I do so silently, feeling as though every motion is an effort of will. Meliadoul hasn't twitched a muscle in the intervening time, though. Once my hour is done I poke Rafa awake and seek my bedding.

Later, morning sunlight on my eyelids wakes me. I sit up, realizing that I'm the last one out of my blankets, though I can see at a glance that both Hannibal and Strawberry have themselves risen just moments before.

Rolling to my feet, I stretch and wipe the sleep away from my eyes. My lips are dry after sleeping so I drink briefly from my waterskin. I've been at this so long I barely even notice the taste anymore.

Ramza wanders over near me, looking at the ground for some reason. When he realizes he's near me, he glances up with a warm smile. "Oh, hello, Agrias."

Despite my bleak mood, I feel myself smiling back at him. He can do that to me. "Good morning."

"Have you seen my other bracer?" he asks hopefully. By way of explanation, he holds up his left hand, which boasts the steel-reinforced leather gloves and wristbands he prefers.

"Why would I have seen your bracer?" I ask dryly, glancing around. "I just got up."

He shrugs. "I don't know. I just thought you might have seen it."

"Well, have you looked under all of your bedding?" He's made that mistake before.

"Yes," he sighs in exasperation. "Of course I did that."

"How about over by where you sat for watch duty?" I suggest. "You might have left it there."

He shakes his head. "I remember taking it off when I went to bed."

I spread my hands. "This wouldn't happen if you remembered to put them in the same place before you sleep every night."

"I do that already," he mutters, frowning around, even lifting my own blankets with a boot to peer under them, perhaps suspecting I've stolen his precious bracer. "You know I always put everything in a pile on my left side."

I smile. "I don't know that."

"You've seen me do it a hundred times," he replies absently. Sighing, he plants hands on his hips and glances around, scowling. And suddenly it occurs to me that I love him.

My eyes widen so much at this I'm surprised they don't fall out of my face. I can feel everything sliding around in my head, getting sucked into some new place, and though I'm looking at the same man I saw yesterday, it's totally different now, like those street artists who sell you drawings of vases that turn out to be of two opposing faces in profile instead.

It's true, though. I love him. I love him dearly. I want to touch him, hold him, kiss him. I want to run my fingers through his hair, want to... to lick his face, to consume him until there's nothing left, until we're both just one entity that everyone can call... Agriamza. I want to touch him how women touch men, want to have his children, want to see his smiling face grow a day older every morning I wake to see it on my pillow. I love him.

I'm shaking. I draw a trembling breath and remember to close my mouth. My God, I'm shaking like a leaf in a gale.

Ramza glances absently up at me, then does a double take, blinking widely, a stag caught staring down the length of a hunter's arrow. "Agrias," he asks, reaching idly up to play with the hair on the back of his head, "why are you looking at me like that?" His smile is nervous and uncomfortable, his tone doubtful.

Oh, God. Think of something. "Have... you... checked with Hannibal?" I ask faintly. "He likes to borrow your things without asking."

He frowns at me, then smiles. "Oh, true. That's a good idea. Thanks!" He trots off happily towards where the lancer is twisting back and forth, doing his morning stretches.

As he leaves, my legs give out, depositing me none too gently on the ground. All I can do is stare after him. His smile is so beautiful. Even Hannibal laughs and smiles at whatever Ramza says to him, and Opal, nearby, chuckles as well as the lancer indeed produces the bracer in question from his backpack. Everyone likes Ramza. Everyone is made comfortable in his presence.

I love him, though. I want him so badly.

But not right now. Exhaling heavily, I glance down at myself and survey the equipment near me. Not yet. I'm still new at this, and I don't want to do something stupid and drive him away. But if I wait too long, Meliadoul will sink her claws into him and... but, wait, that can't happen because he says he has... my God, could his "there's someone else" be me? Could he have thought that far ahead?

"Agrias," whispers a voice sharply behind me. Someone taps my shoulder.

I leap into the air and whirl around to face Rafa. "What?" I ask in a whisper. My teeth are chattering, though the morning is pleasant and warm. My God. How long? How long have I felt this way without even knowing it?

My white-clad friend's full lips curve in a smile. "I know that look," she explains in a low voice, nodding past me towards Ramza. "You figured it out, didn't you?"

"Figured what... wait." I pause, and horror unfolds in black waves through my chest. "You knew," I realize weakly, staring into her liquid brown eyes. "Everyone knew. Everyone but me."

She shrugs easily, still smiling. "Sometimes that's the way it goes. Don't sweat it."

"'Don't sweat it,'" I echo, shaking my head helplessly. "I'm such an ass." My God, the thing with the boot... it all makes sense now. What else did I miss? I sigh, still unable to understand the magnitude of what just happened. "What do I even do now, Rafa? Do I just tell him?"

The other woman's lips thin consideringly. "I wouldn't," she advises slowly. "At least, not yet. I'm certain he once felt the same way for you, but it's been so long now that he may have convinced himself to move on... to Meliadoul, perhaps. She's certainly an eyeful." Rafa pauses, eyeing the Shrine Knight before returning her attention to me. "If I were you, I'd see if the fire still burns before you go about adding wood to it."

I nod, having little choice but to accept her advice. "How would... how do I do that?"

"Touch him," she suggests with a grin. "Like Meliadoul's been doing, just a little bit at a time, to see how he reacts. Though, that might not work if you're worried about him feeling pressured from all the sudden attention. If you want, I can try to ask him myself. He might tell me."

I plant my face in my open hands. "I don't know, Rafa," I groan. "I have absolutely no experience doing this."

"I don't have much more," she admits pleasantly. "But I've seen a lot. I watch, and I pay attention."

"I..." I trail off, trying to think it through. "I'd like to try it myself first, and if that doesn't work I might ask you to ask him." God, this is just like when children go through this, friends asking friends which other friends they like. I feel vaguely bad enlisting Rafa's aid -- Meliadoul has no such resources she can call on in this battle -- but damn it, he's mine and I want him.

"Okay," nods Rafa, smiling. "Let me know if you need any help."

On impulse, I lean forward to hug her. "Thank you," I mumble. "Thank you for... knowing, and helping."

Her arms tighten around my ribs. "You've always been a friend to me," she replies into my ear. "I want you to be happy."

Tears wet my cheeks from her words. Releasing the woman, I sniffle and smile, scrubbing at my eyes. Good God, I need to get a hold of myself.

Rafa laughs, that low and intimate sound I've come to love. "I'll leave you alone for now," she decides. "Good luck."

I nod mutely as she rises and wanders off. Malak ghosts after her from where he'd been squatting a short distance away; he glances at me with an unreadable expression as he passes, and I can only wonder at what he must be thinking.

Drawing a deep breath, I hold it for a slow count of ten, then exhale. I am calm. I am cold water. I am the reflection of the kingfisher skimming over rippling waves.

Rising, I calmly go about my morning duties, placing some supplies carefully into my backpack and fitting the rest onto my person somewhere. My hands move automatically, folding my blankets up and then tying them into a tight roll which fits atop the backpack.

In moments we're travelling. I take point again with Ramza and Meliadoul. The Shrine Knight starts the morning talking to him, and her words fade to a buzz in my ears without thinking. Hopefully in Ramza's too.

What is my plan, then? I can't do anything on the road; even if we had the privacy, there wouldn't be time, and vice versa. We'll cross Zirekile Falls today, where Ramza first fought his commander to help Ovelia and myself. Perhaps... it will have to be after we stop. I can't count on having his time to myself while we eat, and then he'll want to train... after that, then. I'll sequester him then. Perhaps Meliadoul can be... diverted, somehow; Rafa would help with that, I'll bet.

When we pause around midday to eat, I make a point to speak with Meliadoul, not about anything in particular; we chat about the waterfall, and about travelling and so on. My only goal is to keep her from interacting with Ramza while we're stopped. I'm not going to flirt with him while she's present, but the reverse isn't true, and I won't let her gain any extra ground on me today.

The Shrine Knight speaks happily and at length about Mount Algost, the source of the river. She seems to know a lot about it, but she doesn't have any idea what I'm up to.

In a way, my earlier denial helps me. Meliadoul's defenses are still down around me.

We spend only a few moments to eat, then continue moving again. Less than an hour later, we're interrupted by a monster attack. Apart from Ironside's wits getting temporarily addled by a mindflare, they don't hurt us much.

One interesting thing I note about the fight is how Meliadoul battles. I know from experience that her special skills are absolutely devastating against human enemies, but they seem curiously ineffective against monsters. Not that it makes her any less fearsome; if anything, this disadvantage just serves to make her mad. She screams like a valkyrie, swinging that great blade of hers around to cleave monster flesh apart as though our enemies were made of butter.

In any event, the battle takes just a few moments and then we are off again. We don't stop again until just before nightfall, when we make camp perhaps a mile before the eastern edge of Araguay Woods.

When we eat, I sit next to Ramza and say little. Meliadoul is there, of course; if I try to keep her from him too much, she'll begin to suspect something is happening. Her influence is also moderated by the presence of Rafa and Malak. I smile at that; my friend is probably trying to lend surreptitious aid by crowding the Shrine Knight's sense of intimacy.

Due to my lack of conversation, I finish the meal quickly, then head over to a flat area and find one of the bokken the party keeps. To my surprise, Ramza strolls over as well; I suppose he didn't say much while we ate, either.

As he finds a pair of practice edges, he eyes me in question. "You and me, then?" No one else has finished yet but us.

"That would be nice," I nod. In more ways than you know, Ramza.

He smiles, and we begin to train. I press him as hard as I always do; I can't afford to do anything differently, not tonight. However, I find that I'm becoming distracted from time to time as we perform the blade dance. I never really noticed before how the muscles in his arms stand out when he fights. He's far from powerfully-built, but he's wiry and extremely fit, and I have to concentrate to keep my eyes on his face. This close, I can also smell him. Sure, he's sweaty and dirty like I am, but past that I can just smell... Ramza. When we grapple too closely, I notice my knees growing weak, so I endeavor to keep him at arm's reach. For now.

As dusk proceeds in its daily conquest of the light, the others slowly wander over in pairs to battle. Tonight Meliadoul is with Alicia, and the two women appear to be keeping one another grimly occupied. Good.

Eventually the bruises on my arms and ribs tell me I've fought enough. Lowering my blade slightly, I glance a question at Ramza.

He understands instantly, smiling at me. "Yeah. I think we've had enough."

"Good," I answer, grinning in return. Side by side, we wander back to where Strawberry and Lavian are sitting by the fire.

Ramza sits down a short distance away from the two women and works his shoulders with a grimace. Now is my chance, I realize; my mouth goes nervously dry at the thought.

Quickly I glance back at the others, but Meliadoul is still trying to keep Alicia's sneaky blades at bay. Nodding to myself, I turn back to Ramza and nudge his thigh with a boot. "Sore?"

He chuckles. "When am I not, after that?"

"Maybe I can help," I murmur, dropping to my knees behind him. I smother ruthlessly any hesitation quivering inside me, then reach forward to grip his shoulders. His muscles there are loose, but I can feel tension that perhaps grows slightly under my touch. Without saying anything, I begin to squeeze and knead, working out the knots and aches he must be feeling. I've so seldom touched him like this, without armor or gloves or anything between us, just a single layer of clothing.

As it dawns on him what I'm doing, he shifts. "Agrias, what are... oh, God." He melts in my grasp, head dropping to his chest. "I'm warning you; I'm giving you about... three hours to stop that."

I smile at the back of his head. It's all I can do not to just slip my hands farther down his chest and rub my cheek against his neck. Then he could reach his arms back around my shoulders, pulling me closer for a kiss, maybe whispering some loving things into...

No. I have to concentrate, or I'm going to start shaking again. This is friend Ramza, I remind myself, not lover Ramza. This is not the Ramza who's going to father my children some day; he's the one I've stolen from the jaws of death countless times before, who's done the same to me. He's the Ramza who stammers when inns' serving girls pinch his cheeks, the Ramza who can't juggle, who still stops to smile at rainbows. The Ramza who went hungry one night in Mandalia when he couldn't bring himself to eat a mother deer Opal had accidentally slain while hunting.

"Agrias," he says again, drowsily, as I work my way down to his shoulder blades, "where did you learn to do that so well?"

I find myself smiling again. "I know a lot about muscles," I explain vaguely. Training as a monk helped immensely with that.

He chuckles, his whole body swaying once as he does so. "I think you're... different today," he continues vaguely.

"Oh?" Well, I suppose I couldn't hide all the longing looks I might have given him. "Different how?"

"I'm not sure," he answers helplessly. "Maybe... you're more attentive, somehow. That might be it. I'm... not used to you touching me either, now that I think about it."

Oh, right. I suppose I would have avoided that, before this morning. I still can't believe it took me this long to... well, anyway. "Is that a problem?"

"No!" he answers quickly. "No. I like... I mean, it's not a problem."

"Okay," I acknowledge simply. My fingers slide lower, pressing and kneading tenderly against the muscles in his back. I hope you can feel the love in my hands, Ramza, because you're not going to hear it from my lips, not right away. My lips can't lie to you, but they can remain silent, something my hands will never be able to do. They'll always tell you exactly how much I love you.

Something tickles my awareness, making me glance up and back. Meliadoul is standing there, just at the edge of the firelight, staring at me. At us. Her posture is stiff, as though she froze in mid-step.

I meet her gaze without challenge or evasion, a simple acknowledgement. My hands continue their slow massage of Ramza's flesh. I don't think I could say anything even if I wanted to.

I'm not ashamed. This isn't a game, and I love him.

Meliadoul's green eyes narrow slightly. After a moment she melts away into the shadows, reappearing a short distance away, next to Hannibal and Ironside. She does not look at us again.

I put her out of my mind for the moment. Ramza is here, and he's letting me touch him, and he's... halfway to falling asleep, I realize with mild surprise. Either that or he's just extremely relaxed.

My hands finish their work on the small of his back, then slide lovingly up to his shoulders again. Once there, I grip his upper arms and squeeze slowly, then start working my way slowly down towards his elbows.

Ramza doesn't make a sound as I continue my tender ministrations. I wonder if he's afraid of disturbing anything, afraid to touch a single card lest the whole house come tumbling down. I kind of feel that way as well.

Eventually I finish the massage, then slide my hands up and simply let them rest against his shoulders. I don't... I don't know what to do, but I also don't want to stop touching him.

He stirs faintly. "Are you... are you done?" His voice has an odd quality to it, but I know him well enough to recognize it as concealed disappointment.

"I'm done," I confirm softly. "Do you feel any better?"

He twists around to face me. An expression I have never seen before paints his features, something like... like he's just met me and he's trying to figure out who I am. "Yes," he nods. "Thank you."

I smile, then scramble around to sit beside him and stare into the fire. Now that my gambit has played out, I'm uncertain what to do next. I can feel him staring at me and I swallow. What is he thinking? Did I reveal too much?

"Do you... uh, are you sore at all?" he asks awkwardly. On my other side, I'm aware of Strawberry scowling at us, then moving slightly farther away.

I nod faintly. "A little."

I can hear him shifting where he sits. "Do you want a backrub too?"

"I'd like one," I admit honestly. My teeth shiver together and I clamp my jaw together. No! I am calm.

Ramza scrambles to kneel behind me. "I know I'm not as good at this as you are," he mutters as he rests his hands on my shoulders. "Just... let me know if I'm hurting you or anything."

"I will," I vow in a low voice. I know he won't hurt me.

His grip slowly tightens. Before long his thumbs press into the muscles at the base of my neck and begin to move.

I exhale slowly, feeling myself slump freely in his grasp until his hands are actually part of what's keeping me upright. Sparks dance from his touch, but I'm putty in his hands, so far under his control that I don't even tremble because Ramza does not wish it. I can feel my lips parting as he proceeds, but I don't even try to close them. Oh, God. I don't think there's anything he could do to me right now that I would try to stop.

As his hands move to my shoulders, he pauses briefly. "Agrias," he murmurs, "your muscles are... I think you're stronger than I am."

I gather my wits enough to smile lopsidedly at my lap. "You're just flattering me," I accuse. I hope my voice isn't too breathless.

"I'm serious," he insists. He says no more, however, only continues to melt my muscles and my mind. Despite his doubts about his skills in this area, he certainly has them.

I quickly lose track of the time, and after a while it occurs to me that my eyes aren't even open anymore. I'm drowning in a river of pressure and tactile sensuality, oblivious to everything but Ramza's hands. At times he pushes perhaps too hard, but it's merely uncomfortable rather than painful, and I accept it without question as part and parcel of this entire experience. Ramza is not perfect and that's part of why I love him. For all I knew, I did the same to him.

Eventually he stops, but like me, does not bother to remove his hands from my back. After a moment my eyelids flutter open and I blink vaguely at the fire ahead. The rest of the campsite has fallen silent, except for Rafa and Malak conversing quietly over where they've made their beds.

"How was that?" asks Ramza quietly, his tone uncertain. "I know I'm not very practiced."

"Don't worry about that," I advise seriously. "It was..." I pause, swallowing. "I wouldn't argue if you wanted to do it more often."

"Okay," he answers, and I can hear the smile in his voice. "The same goes for you."

I nod silently. He still hasn't moved his hands, I notice; they're resting against the small of my back. If he shifted his fingers a bit, he'd be gripping me around the waist. The layers of cloth keeping his skin from mine seem awfully thin all of a sudden.

Shortly he sighs. "It's... late," he observes.

"It is," I agree. "You should probably start your watch."

"I know," he acknowledges somewhat regretfully. "Sometimes I miss when we used to do them together."

Something starts to glow in my chest, and I smile. "I miss that too," I admit, "but I'm afraid if I joined you tonight, I'd just fall asleep anyway, after that backrub." My God, if his hands can do that to me just on my back, what would... no. Not now.

Ramza chuckles. "I know what you mean." His hands twitch, then slide up to squeeze my shoulders. "Thank you, Agrias."

I lower my head. "Thank you."

Finally the warmth of his touch disappears from my body, and I can hear grass shifting about as he stands. His quiet footsteps recede slowly into the night.

Forcing myself to move, I rise laboriously to my feet, then just stand there for a moment. For all the superficial innocence of what just happened, I can still hardly believe it. Drawing a shuddering breath, I step over to where I dropped my things earlier, then quietly unroll my blankets and slip into them.

I think I fall asleep right away. I dream of Ramza and his hands.

Opal wakes me at some point in the middle of the night and I nod, sitting upright in my bedding. As the monk wanders off, I give myself a shake, then rise.

My eyes seek out Ramza where he is sleeping sprawled by the fire. His mouth is open as always; sometimes I'm surprised he doesn't wake up coughing on bugs more often. I smile slightly, then step carefully over the sleeping members of our party towards the north edge of the camp.

As I stand there, gazing off into the moonlit darkness, my mind drifts back to what happened before I went to sleep. I know I didn't dream it, but it still seems unreal. I just wanted to test the waters, to see how he felt, and while I still don't really know, I don't think it possibly could have gone better.

Before long I hear grass whisper behind me, and my heart jumps into my throat. Is that him? I can't...

"Oaks," hisses a feminine voice, "what the hell was that? You told me you weren't interested in him."

I slump, turning to face Meliadoul. She's standing there, arms crossed and glaring at me. "I... was wrong," I admit uncomfortably. "I just figured it out."

"Well, that's bloody great," snaps the Shrine Knight, keeping her voice low enough not to carry back to the rest of the camp. "I don't suppose you saw the looks everyone was giving you? If you'd simply had your tongues down each other's throats, that would have been far less awkward."

"What do you want me to do?" I ask tightly. "Just give up?"

She falls silent for a time, still glaring at me, but after a moment she sighs. Turning, she steps to stand beside me and stares off into the night. "I'm not giving up either," she declares quietly.

"I wouldn't expect you to," I shrug. "At least not until he's made... a decision of some sort."

A cold silence settles between us. I dare a glance towards her, but she's still just staring off at nothing. She's wearing her usual robe, of course, but under the hood she's removed the matching cloth coif, allowing wavy brown hair to hang past her jaw.

"This is just wonderful," mutters Meliadoul eventually. "He's going to feel like a... a toy two children are fighting over. Do you think we might drive him to run away? You... know him better than I do," she adds reluctantly.

"I don't know," I frown. "Last time someone approached him, it was Lavian and he told her he already had someone. Who he meant, I don't know." But I have a suspicion. "He might pull that again, I suppose. Otherwise, I could see him either acting responsibly and telling one of us not to bother, or just retreating from both of us."

I hate this. One of the reasons I went into the knighthood was so that I'd never have to be one of the ladies dancing for some lord's attention, but I know it's not Ramza's fault. Well, in a way it is, since he's so nice, but this is definitely not something he foresaw. Or is even aware of.

"Well," sighs Meliadoul, "there's no dignity in clawing one another's eyes out over this. I propose a treaty."

"A treaty?" I repeat doubtfully. Can I trust her in something like this?

She spares me an impatient glance. "Yes. One day, you'll have access to him in the day, and I will have access to him at night. Then the next day we'll switch, and so on. This was obviously your night, so tomorrow I won't interfere with you in the day."

I eye her narrowly, then gesture to the west, and we begin walking in that direction. I suppose if I agree to such a plan, and she begins to break it, I'll know, because I'll be right there with Ramza. Is there any other way she could weasel through some crack?

On reflection, I think that there is not. The terms are pretty straightforward. But there is one issue. "Won't he notice? I mean, this schedule will be pretty predictable."

"So what if he does?" shrugs the Shrine Knight wearily. "We can tell him. It's not like this agreement would be... underhanded, or immature, really."

I feel a humorless smile twisting my lips. "He'll feel insulted that we didn't just tell him."

Meliadoul snorts. "Well, unless you're willing to do that right now, it's not going to happen, so you may as well worry about it when it does happen."

"Okay," I nod. "But still, he might not go along with this. It's not like he just sits there and waits for one of us to find him. He moves around and talks to whomever he pleases."

"Let him," she answers dismissively. "If that happens, we won't count it as a night in our agreement."

"Fine," I agree tiredly. We reach the western edge of the camp and I stop there, gazing out over the night-cloaked landscape. "We'll do that."

"Good. I'm going to get my sleep, then." Nodding briskly, she strides off towards everyone else.

Once I can no longer hear her footsteps, I sigh heavily, rubbing a gloved hand over my face. I can't belive this. If someone had told me two days ago that I'd be bargaining with Meliadoul to divide up flirting time with Ramza, I'd probably have punched them. It shames me, really, but there's no way around it, not unless I want to get rather underhanded, but that option twists my stomach even more than the possibility of losing Ramza.

I hope you know what I'm going through for this, you dunce. You owe me.

My watch passes without incident, unless my muttering counts as "incident." I wake Rafa and throw myself back into my blankets.

The next day, as we begin to travel, Meliadoul surprises me by walking back with Orlandu. Every now and then snippets of their conversation drift ahead to where I can hear them; it seems they're talking battle, which hardly surprises me.

If Ramza notices anything amiss with the arrangement, he doesn't show it. He glanced back at her in mild confusion as we started travelling, but hasn't done much since. He hasn't said much to me, either.

I decide to change that. "What are you planning to do once we get to Igros?"

His face grows determined. "I'm going to ask Dycedarg what happened. I'm not going to leave until he answers me."

"Well," I note, "he has a Zodiac stone. What if he tries to kill us? Will you fight your brother?"

Ramza turns to gaze at me as though this thought hasn't even occurred to him before. Finally, though, he nods. "If that happens, he's not even my brother anymore."

I smile, and he smiles back. "Good," I nod. "You know, not everyone would be able to do that. It takes strength of will to do such a thing."

He continues to stare at me for a moment, then stares at the ground. I note with surprise and some satisfaction that he's actually blushing. This is new; usually he just brushes off such compliments or smiles at me. Maybe he can see something in my eyes that wasn't there before.

I can try to find out, at least. "What?" I probe, realizing I'm still smiling.

Ramza shrugs uncomfortably, then gives me a quick apologetic glance. "I just asked myself what you would do in my place," he explains.

Oh. Now it's my turn to blush. I don't know what to say, so I don't say anything. Eventually the silence grows past the point where the conversation has ended, so I chew on my lips and wonder what to do next. I don't really have many options, I suppose, apart from more conversation, but it's hard to talk and travel hard at the same time, and if I try it he might get suspicious.

I sigh. No one told me this was going to be such a pain.

Eventually, lacking anything to say that won't sound forced, I settle for leaning over to bump my shoulder into his. The impact knocks him slightly off-balance, but he catches himself quickly, then does the same back to me. I smile at the ground.

I don't try any more with him while we travel. I have no wish to browbeat him into liking me.

We pass peacefully through Araguay Woods and emerge on the other side just before nightfall. Over the plains, the western sky shifts from orange to a starry violet, and the slim crescent moon is hovering its own height above the far grasses.

The party eats quickly, then trains in the little light remaining. I match blades against Hannibal and earn several bruises on top of yesterday's bruises. Meliadoul, I note, tries to pair up with Ramza but ends up battling Ironside instead.

When I'm done, I wander back towards the fire and drop down to sit next to Rafa. She smiles in greeting, then eyes the nearby Mustadio before speaking discreetly. "Waiting for him to finish?"

I grimace. "Not tonight."

"Why?" Concern furrows her brow. "What happened?"

Hesitating, I glance at Mustadio out of the corners of my eyes, but the mechanic doesn't seem to be paying any attention to us at all. "It's not my... turn," I explain uncomfortably.

"It's not..." Rafa trails off in wide-eyed startlement. "Tell me you didn't."

"I did," I sigh. "She and I."

"Oh, for God's sake," mutters Rafa. Standing, she holds a hand down to me and helps me to my feet. Together, we wander off a short distance from the fire.

Perhaps some twenty paces out, she releases my hand and turns to face me, arms crossed over her chest. "So you're taking turns being near him? Is that it?"

I shrug irritably. "What did you want us to do? Cling to him every waking moment? It was her idea." I realize I'm actually starting to sound a little petulant and clamp my jaw shut angrily.

Rafa shakes her head at the sky. "I suppose it makes sense," she admits after a moment, sounding unconvinced. "You were up with him all day, while she walked in the middle. I assume just switch off every nightfall?"

I blink, then realize this is another way to phrase our agreement. "Basically."

Dark eyes shift away from my face to study something moving behind me. "Well, there they go now, to the fire."

I squeeze my eyes shut. "Don't even tell me," I groan quietly. "I don't want to know."

Her attention shifts back to me and she smiles. "Well, you can't just stand out here all night. You'll have to see them eventually."

"I know," I sigh. My God, I feel like a damn kid.

"Oh, they're just sitting there. Come on," urges Rafa, gripping my hand again and turning me about. I let her lead me back to the campfire, where we sit a good distance from Meliadoul and Ramza. My heart pounds like a drum the entire time, and with each dragging step I can feel the dread grow heavier in my stomach.

Shortly Rafa grips my shoulders and gently directs me to sit, perhaps fearing I'll run if not restrained. I grit my teeth and let her, and in a moment she seats herself beside me.

Mustadio spares me a frowning glance. "Are you alright, Agrias? You look a bit off."

I direct an apologetic smile at him. "I do feel a little ill," I explain, truthfully.

The mechanic inclines his head. "Well, I hope you feel better."

"Me too," I chuckle humorlessly. "Thank you."

Against their will, my eyes are drawn around the circle to where the two of them are sitting together, sitting too close together. The Shrine Knight has her hood back and coif gone, I note, leaving her hair loose and fluttering in the breeze. With her sharp features and sparkling grin, Ramza probably finds her pretty. I hate that.

Grimacing, I turn away and stare at the flickering orange flames in front of me, and henceforth try to ignore the two. From time to time, though, I catch my gaze sliding over there and immediately correct it again. Eventually Meliadoul seats herself leaning back against Ramza's side, then busies herself doing something with... with the grass nearby, I think. I quickly realize she's plucking wildflowers from the greenery and weaving them into a crown of sorts, which she eventually passes over to him with a laugh.

My heart clenches at the expression of surprise and pleasure painting his face, and once again I return my attention to the fire. Soon, however, I can see him trying to do the same thing for her, sometimes leaning heavily sideways to reach a few errant blooms. His fingers must not be as skilled as hers, though, for whatever he makes crumbles back to its component parts as soon as it reaches her hands. Meliadoul smiles anyway, though, and I think she tucks the flowers fondly into her robe somewhere, trying to keep the motion hidden from him.

I drop my face to my hands. I want to hate her, but I can't. I know she's not a malevolent or evil person, and she genuinely seems to care for Ramza.

I have no idea what conversation swirled around me while I sat like that. Hopefully most people attributed my mood to an oncoming illness of some sort. I could feel Ramza's eyes in specific on me a couple of times, but I couldn't make myself look up to meet them for fear of what I might see there, or not see.

In a way, when the fire turns to smoldering and the party turns in for bed, sleep comes as a relief. A prolonged period of unconsciousness will take this misery away for a time.

Morning comes all too soon, and with it, travelling. At least she can't occupy too much of his attention while we're marching.

We reach Dorter by midmorning and pass right through. Even the bustling trade city and its cheery inhabitants can't brighten my mood much. The only thought that does is the thought of being next to him tonight.

This is silly. I'm a Holy Knight, one who's helping to collect the Zodiac stones from the demons that are trying to use them for... whatever. I should not be eyeing every likely campsite we pass just because choosing one would bring the hour closer when I can sit at his side, alone. My heart should not leap at the thought of simply touching him again.

When we finally stop for the day, I can barely eat and train fast enough. I'd like to spar against Ramza, but he's still chatting with Alicia and Hannibal when I finish, so I face off against Malak instead. The Hell Knight, as he styles himself, is a devious, calculating opponent who fights with a permanent scowl. Really, though, it's not only fighting; he's just like that. He fights with a long rod, almost like a staff, that has even greater reach than my bokken. He can whip it around so fast it blurs, too; one swipe in particular strikes my leg with a resounding crack, and for a moment I fear the bone is broken, but shortly I'm able to walk on it. Well, limp on it. At least he has the grace to look sorry about that, though he doesn't say anything.

We don't train much after that, so I hobble back to the fire that Strawberry has started and simpy let myself fall to my backside in front of it. Lavian is there as well, the two spellcasters chatting about something non-magical for once, though I can't tell what it is. Some kind of soup, I think. Whatever.

The heat of the fire doesn't help much, given that I'm already sweating from training, but I know the night's chill will soon catch up with me. In silence and solitude I sit. I can see Rafa on the other side of the two mages; she gives me a grin and a subtle wink without moving closer. She knows.

Eventually Ramza drops to the ground a short distance away, sighing at nothing. Tugging absently at his bracers, he removes the things and then just lets them drop in front of him as though Meliadoul and myself are the farthest thing from his mind right now. Likely we are.

I ache to go over there and be with him, but I force myself to stare pensively into the fire. I can't pressure him, can't let him know how eager I am to join his company, because I know it would make him uncomfortable.

Time passes, perhaps a quarter-hour, without anyone approaching him, so I frown at him for a moment as though just noticing his condition. Then I scramble over to sit beside him and poke his elbow. "Is something wrong?"

Ramza blinks and his face relaxes into a slight smile, an expression I could stare at happily until I went to sleep. "Oh, it's nothing," he answers, lifting his hands and then letting them fall to his lap again. "I just kept making mistakes when I was fighting Alicia just now. I'm kind of frustrated."

"I'm sorry," I answer, laying a hand on his arm briefly. I can't keep a punchy smile from my face, though. "Maybe she's just too good for you."

He barks a laugh and settles back, hands against the ground behind him. "Probably is," he mutters. "Like I said, it's nothing."

My smile remains as I watch crackling sparks float skyward from the fire before fading. I feel like I should be doing something, saying something, trying to make the most of my time with him, but instead I'm content just to be here.

After a time he nods a question at me. "Where were you last night? Usually it seems like we spend some time together, and so I was going to offer you another backrub, but you never showed up."

Oh. "Well, I saw you chatting with Meliadoul," I explain, "and I didn't want to barge in and interrupt."

Ramza waves a dismissive hand. "Oh, don't worry. I wouldn't have minded, and I'm sure she wouldn't have either."

Oh, Ramza, you poor sod. I love you. "Then I'm sorry," I offer primly, bowing my head slightly in his direction to show that I'm not taking it too seriously. "You could offer it now instead, if you'd like."

"Yeah," he murmurs, seemingly embarassed. "True. Do you want one?"

I smile to myself. Quickly I glance up and around, but none of the other party members are near; I don't know if they're giving us space out of politeness or disgust, but there it is. "I'd like one," I reply.

"Okay," he acknowledges brightly, scooting over to kneel behind me. Immediately his hands are twin warm spots sliding up the curve of my back to my shoulders.

When he starts to massage me, once more I slump formlessly in his grasp. Eyes hooded, lips parted, I simply stare at the ground, a malleable metal in the hands of a master smith. The heat from his touch seems to seep into me and flow about, settling somewhere in my middle; it's a sensation I've not really felt before, but it's a strong one. My skin tingles and my breath becomes shallow; I can even feel my rapid pulse in the roof of my mouth.

As his hands slide to the small of my back, my fingers touch soft linen, and I realize I've reached back to touch his leg near the knee. Not an intimate touch by any means, or even a sensual one, just a familiar gesture that conveys how comfortable I am. Whether he notices or not, I can't tell, but his hands don't stop.

Eventually he works his way back up my spine towards my shoulders and arms. I can't stop the occasional faint sigh that escapes through my lips, and in fact I don't even try. I'm too busy sagging in his grasp, silently begging him not to stop.

At some point he does stop, though. I have no idea how much time elapsed, but my back is a warm mass of peace and glowing affection. If I can produce even half that kind of effect on him, I'll be thrilled.

"There," he murmurs, squeezing my upper arms for emphasis. "Is that good enough?"

My eyelids slowly flutter open, and an idea springs up in my head. "Actually," I murmur, "if it's not too much trouble, there's one more place I'd like you to get."

I can almost see him swallowing nervously. "There... there is?"

Smiling, I extend my right leg and lean forward, unbuckling the armored plates protecting it. They don't completely cover my leg, so Malak's strike hit flesh instead of metal, but they'll be in the way of Ramza's skilled fingers. "I took a hit here earlier," I explain, pointing to the smarting region of my leg, on the outer side of the leg's lower half. "I thought you might be able to help reduce the pain."

When he doesn't say anything, I risk a glance back. Ramza is staring at my leg, though his gaze shifts instantly to my face. "If that will help," he agrees faintly, "I'll do it."

Nodding, I twist about to bring my leg to him, rather than make him move. He hesitates, glancing uncertainly at me, but I just nod again, and after a moment he rests his hands on my shin and closes his eyes.

Rather than rubbing and kneading, now he works with the palms of his hands, simply putting them in one place and letting his warmth flow into me for a time before moving slightly. I recognize what he is doing as a mild chakra, and wonder belatedly why I didn't think of doing that myself, but I'll admit it worked out better this way.

From time to time his hands tremble slightly, and I blush when that happens, wondering if I'm being too forward. Even though he's set broken bones of mine before, somehow this is different. There's no utilitarian purpose behind this at all... well, there is the rationale I gave him, but largely I just want him to touch my body. In the appropriate places, of course; I left the plates on above my knees, telling him to stop there.

After some consideration, I dismiss my worries. If this weren't okay with Ramza, he wouldn't have done it. That leads me down a new line of thought, though: what more could I ask of him before he said no? I shiver faintly at that, trying to recall a single time when he's refused me anything, but I can't think of one.

I shake my head to clear it. One step at a time.

Some time later, he releases my leg and sits back. The pain is gone completely, I note with pleasure. "Better?" he asks nervously, eyeing me.

I nod earnestly, then pull my leg back to my chest. "I'm sorry, Ramza," I admit quietly. "Maybe I shouldn't have asked you to do that. You seem uneasy."

"It's just unusual," he answers. "That's all. Not bad, just different."

I smile, and he grins back at me. "Good. Do you want anything from me?" I meet his gaze curiously and don't look away; he can read as much into my words as he wants to.

"A backrub would be nice," he muses after a moment. I nod, and we shift about until I am kneeling behind him.

Like me, he deflates as soon as I grip his shoulders. I take my time, sliding my hands up and down his back, sometimes almost caressing him, but I keep my touch gentle because that's what I feel for him. Once again I use my hands to speak the words I can't yet summon to my lips. I hope you understand, Ramza. I think you do.

"Hmm," he mumbles sleepily at one point. "You know what's weird?"

"What?" I ask obligingly. My hands continue their loving work.

"I've... been getting these weird feelings when Meliadoul is around," he murmurs. "I think she might like me."

I pause briefly -- how dare you think of her when I'm here? -- but I cover the hesitation quickly; the information I can get out of this is worth the pain it might cause me. "Why is that?"

"Well..." He sighs, swaying slightly under my ministration. "She's always talking to me, always trying to touch me, trying to get me to touch her."

My eyebrows climb at this. What have they been doing that I haven't seen? I blink for a moment, then decide to muddy the waters with honesty. "We touch each other too, though. Is it different from this?"

"Oh, it is," he insists firmly in a low voice. "Sometimes, when she reaches across me to... get something, or whatever, she does it so that she... so that her..." He trails off uncomfortably, but I get the idea. "Likewise, if I have my hand or arm near her, she tries to move so that I... brush up against... I don't know. You know what I mean. She doesn't do that to anyone else."

I nod slowly, mutely. My heart is a raging drum in my ribs, beating so fiercely I'm willing to bet he can feel it through my fingertips. I keep my touch gentle, though; this is her fault, not his. After a moment I open my mouth to ask a question, but no sound comes out, because I know the answer might shatter me. I swallow, trying to work some moisture into my mouth, and try again. "And do you like that?" I keep my voice as casual as I can make it sound.

"Honestly..." He sighs. "Can I tell you something?"

"You know you can tell me anything," I remind him. Whatever happens with Meliadoul, that will always be true.

"That's true," he murmurs. "The truth is, she... scares me, a little."

I find myself blinking again. "Why?"

"I don't know," he mutters again. "She's a little... aggressive. Like she doesn't always worry about what I might think. Sometimes she reminds me of a hunter, and I'm her prey."

That might not be far wrong, I reflect silently. "But this is okay, right?" I ask, squeezing his shoulders for clarification.

"Oh! Yes." He chuckles at the silliness of being threatened by me. "This is warm and comfortable and l... gentle. I always know I can trust you, so..." He falls silent, perhaps fearing he's said too much, not knowing I could hear him go on like that all night.

"That's all I need to hear," I decide softly, smiling at the back of his head. I know he's not mine yet, but his words give me reason to hope.

Ramza doesn't say anything, and after a while I frown, wondering if I gave too much away there. He might be figuring out. Well, let him. It's not like I can, or would, keep this from him forever.

I don't say anymore either, and eventually decide that I've kept him from watch duty long enough. Reluctantly I sit back on my heels behind him, letting my hands fall to my thighs. "It's late again," I note.

He chuckles. "It is."

Together we climb to our feet, stretching. I eye him sideways, trying to think of something to say, but before I can, he turns to face me. Perplexed thought has his brows furrowed, and I breathe a little easier at that; he hasn't got it all figured out, but he might have started to suspect.

"Thank you, Agrias," he says softly, meeting my gaze fully. "I enjoy that."

"So do I," I answer, reaching to pinch his cheek playfully. Without another word, I step to my blankets and slip into them. I don't think I stop smiling until after I've gone to sleep.

The next day brings an overcast shell of clouds and a brisk wind, but it doesn't rain. We travel with heads down against blowing dust, cloaks wrapped about our bodies despite the best efforts of the wind. I have little chance to speak with Ramza but just walking next to him is enough.

Goblins attack us in Sweegy Woods, and we make short work of them. We travel until we're just a few hours short of Gariland, then make camp in a flowering meadow. After the food and training, Meliadoul takes her chance to snuggle up to Ramza next to the fire. I sit a third of the way around the circle from them, far enough so I don't have to hear them but not opposite so I'd have to stare at them.

I do watch them occasionally, and for some reason it doesn't bother me as much tonight as last time I was in this situation. Maybe it's hearing what Ramza told me last night, or maybe some of him has seeped through my skin and settled into my bones, but I feel more confident. Or, rather less worried; I may end up making him mine, or I might not, and if not, I'll probably survive.

When we hit the road the next day, Meliadoul is at his side again and barely leaves it. He doesn't seem uncomfortable, despite his words to me earlier, and vaguely I begin to wonder if maybe he's just telling me what I want to hear. It wouldn't be like him, though, so I decide he's just holding his composure and enjoying her company as he can.

We pass through Gariland and stop just long enough to buy some extra food, some nuts and dried fruit to accompany the dried meat we have. Then we're off again, heading towards Mandalia but not reaching it.

That night, to shake things up, I don't offer to give Ramza a backrub, and for whatever reason, he doesn't offer one to me. Instead, we sit together with the rest of the party, laughing and chatting, participating in the usual banter. It's important that neither he nor the rest of the party think I'm trying to steal him away from them, and I want to show that, if we were a couple, we'd be a responsible one, not shunning our friends just to be together.

All that aside, I still sit as close to him as I can, with our thighs touching and us accidentally elbowing each other occasionally. He doesn't move away, though. I also make certain to arrange my blankets to be next to his.

The next day, we cross the empty Mandalia Plains, or Beast Plains as Orlandu calls it, but despite its nickname we are not attacked as we make passage across its limestone-studded face. It's Meliadoul's turn with Ramza tonight, so I sit back and watch as they sit a short distance away from the fire and tickle each other. Well, Meliadoul seems to do more of the tickling; Ramza just fends her off as best he can, giggling.

Eventually her face grows serious and she stands, offering a hand down to him. He accepts it, rising as well, and together they wander off into the tall and shadowed grass.

I watch them leave, keeping my face neutral. I'm not going to worry about it. I trust him. Also, I know that if she tries anything, it'll probably just frighten him more.

They haven't returned by the time I hit my blankets, but when Opal wakes me for my watch, they're both asleep. On different sides of the camp. I smile, though for all I know it means absolutely nothing.

The next day, of course, brings us to Igros, the city where Ramza grew up. The Castle itself is huge, falling just a hair short of matching Lesalia Palace in height, though, being built for war, Igros Castle is far more imposing than the lavish imperial palace. It's strange to think that a place projecting such power could have been home to the mild young Ramza Beoulve.

He leads us to an out-of-the-way gate, one I assume his family uses, only to find it empty of guards. In their place is a lone chocobo, which Ramza identifies nervously as belonging to Zalbag. He hesitates briefly, then strolls in through the open gate. We follow.

The interior of Igros Castle is similarly empty, though very faint echoes reach us, the shouting of fighting men. Ramza's face assumes a grim cast, and we race towards it, bolting past the occasional startled servant or page.

Eventually we find ourselves in an open space, a domed chamber that strikes me as a glorified stairwell, with hallways leading off in different directions on different floors. Two nobles I assume to be Zalbag and Dycedarg are facing each other on the floor above us, I note uneasily, and the younger one -- Zalbag, I assume -- has his blade out. Hokuten knights surround both men.

He notices our entrance right away, and gives a visible start. "Brother!"

"Zalbag!" answers Ramza. His knuckles are white on his blade hilts as he stares from one brother to the other.

"Ramza, you were right!" calls Zalbag. "Our brother's started a war and killed Larg to satisfy his own ambition! This is disgraceful and cannot be forgiven!" His voice is hoarse with anger and betrayal.

"Zalbag!" repeats Ramza. Apparently having decided whom to help, he bolts under an arch for the stairs.

I follow his lead, unleashing a Lightning Stab to strike Dycedarg from a floor away. A moment later, one of Meliadoul's crippling attack flashes through the noble's body, and I can hear shards of metal clatter to the ground afterwards. Zalbag and Dycedarg trade blows for a time, but as I'm running under the arch after Ramza, a gasp catches my ears.

"If only you hadn't interfered," rasps the oldest Beoulve bitterly, "Ivalice would have been ours. The Beoulve's. You fools!"

I turn just in time to see him collapse into a bloody pile. The Hokuten knights surrounding Zalbag turn to regard their fallen leader in horror.

Before I have time to relax, however, a chromatic sparkle arcs around the man and I curse. I know what that means. The now-familiar display of raw power and fury swirls blindingly, collapsing and then exploding outwards.

Where Dycedarg's body once lay now stands a demonic shape I vaguely recognize as Adramelk. It laughs contemptuously. "So that's it. Now I know." The thing pauses to laugh again. "Young fool, here's a souvenir for you on the way to Hell. I killed Balbanes. Yes, I did it! The Beoulves finally had their chance to rule, but he blew it! That idiot! So I killed him. Even a swordmaster can't fight poison!"

I watch helplessly as Adramelk focuses his rage against Zalbag, apparently destroying him where he stands, or perhaps bringing him to some other space. The Hokuten knights present observe this and flee, some shouting, in every direction.

Amateurs. I know how to handle this.

"Now it's your turn!" bellows Adramelk; the walls rattle, echoing his fury. "You'll regret opposing me!"

Our party continues to advance on the hellish thing; I fire off another Lightning Stab for good measure as we make our way around and up the stairs. Adramelk doesn't just stand around waiting, however; it gestures with one clawed fist and Ramza is instantly turned into a granite statue, grinding loudly to a quick halt on the stairs.

I don't pause to grieve, however, instead bolting up the stairs as fast as my armored legs will carry me. Searing white magic tears up from the ground and through Adramelk's body, but the thing barely even twitches. I impale it with ethereal light in a Holy Explosion, but again it just keeps moving, swatting Ironside aside like a fly.

Strawberry incants another spell to shred the best while I sidestep and blast my power through it once more. Finally the thing howls and shakes.

"Shit!" rumbles Adramelk. "It's still not right. If only 'Bloody Angel' were here, this wouldn't have happened!" The demon's next scream is terminated by a thunderous explosion that leaves only the glittering Zodiac stone in its place.

Well, crap. Ramza wanted to know why Vormav gave that thing away. Now only Vormav himself can answer our question, and I doubt he'll be willing.

Meliadoul hops up to the stone and retrieves it, dusting it off on her robes with a grimace. I sigh, turning to frown at the statue of Ramza. "Strawberry!" I call; the spellcaster hurries over and begins chanting.

When she finshes, Ramza is thawed back into himself and stumbles briefly. His eyes seek out Adramelk and find only Meliadoul and the stone. Then he slumps. "This is the end of the Beoulves," he murmurs. "Names don't matter. What's important is how you live your life. Alma... I must save Alma!"

I nod along as he speaks, then frown at the end. "We don't know where she is, Ramza."

"Murond," says Meliadoul. All eyes turn to her, and she shrugs. "They're afraid of you by now, and Murond is the safest place to keep her, in their opinion. She'll be there."

Ramza gazes at her without expression, then nods once. "Murond, then. Let's go." And before I can say another word he's already striding back the way we came.

I hurry to catch up to him, then walk rapidly at his side. "What about the Castle?" I wonder. "Your... your brothers are..."

He turns to give me a grim look. "There are captains who can run it in Dycedarg's absence," is all he says.

Though we encounter a few guards on our way out of the castle, they must not have orders to stop us, because they spare us odd, almost frightened looks as they let us pass. We exit the castle and emerge into the afternoon sunlight.

Ramza doesn't stop, instead striding through the surrounding city and then through the south gates. Murond is only a few days from here, and I'm sure we would be running now if he thought it would shorten the trip any more.

He doesn't speak again until we stop for the night on Mandalia Plains, and I don't try to disturb him. No one else does, either; the party's mood is tense, subdued, as Lavian rummages quietly around for kindling to make a fire.

Sparse conversation arises here and there as the group unloads packs and the like. Ramza just stands in one place, scowling murderously at nothing. His backpack leans against his legs, where he has carelessly dropped it.

Lips compressed, I approach him carefully. It's technically my night to be with him, but I don't care; I'd be here anyway. He's my friend. "Ramza?"

His eyes snap to meet my own with any change in his expression. For a moment he just stares at me, but soon his gaze darts past me, examining the state of the rest of the party. Finally he turns around, jerking his head coldly for me to follow.

This is the first time he's issued me such a curt command, I realize. I follow.

He leads us to one of the many chunks of limestone protruding from the grassy earth, then sits on it. I claim the space beside him without being asked and then wait.

"Zalbag," he says flatly eventually, staring at his lap. "Is Zalbag dead?"

I swallow. It's not like Ramza to show so little emotion. Something must be tearing him up; there are certainly any number of things that could be doing so now, I suppose. "I believe so," I answer.

He nods. "I thought so. I'll... miss him."

"What about Dycedarg?" I ask carefully.

Hazel eyes dart to mine once more and there is anger there, cold anger. "He killed Father." Ramza, poor Ramza who can shrug off a couple of attempts by his brothers to kill him, has finally found something he can't forgive.

My eyes start to blur so I lower them. If I ever cause him that kind of pain, I will die.

"But Zalbag," he continues crisply, "Zalbag... was too trusting. He believed everything Dycedarg told him, all the lies. When he finally figured out what was going on, Dycedarg killed him. There... there isn't even a body." His voice cracks.

I sniffle, reaching out to circle arms around his neck, pulling him gently to me. He lets me do so; his head thumps into my shoulder.

He begins to weep, making no noise; he doesn't even move at all except for the sudden shaking in his limbs. Tears leak from his closed eyes and he breathes raggedly, shuddering in my arms. An occasional soft whimper escapes his lips, quickly stifled.

I lower my head to his, resting my cheek against his unruly hair. My arms tighten around him for a long time, almost crushing him into me, but then I loosen my grip somewhat. Lifting a hand, I begin to catch his tears on my knuckles, tenderly drying his cheeks while he's still wetting them. My other hand strokes his back, his hair, roaming with every ounce of love and comfort I possess.

Eventually it is enough, or he simply expends his grief. His tears subside, as does the shaking, though I keep an arm around him and he doesn't move his head from my shoulder. "Thank you, Agrias," he whispers.

I smile, feeling the muscles in my cheek pushing against his skull. "I'm glad to help."

He slowly pushes himself from me, scrubbing a hand across his face before dropping it back in his lap. I watch him carefully, reading for any alarming signs in his expression, but he simply gazes at his hands.

After a moment his face darkens. "Agrias... last night Meliadoul told me she thinks she's falling in love with me."

My heart pounds in fear, but for some reason I follow his gaze. Then I blink. He's staring at his hands... no, our hands, since I'm holding one of his in both of mine. I don't even remember doing that; it must have felt so natural I didn't even think about it.

I snatch my hands back from his, aware of my cheeks heating. "Ramza, I'm..."

"Agrias, tell me what's happening." His voice is low, calm now, but also lifeless. He's still not looking at me.

I take a deep breath, then let it go. This is it. "She's probably right," I admit. "She and I have talked about it and I'm not surprised she told you." I pause, trying to think of how to continue.

"And?" he prompts. "There's more."

I nod unwillingly. "There's... a complicating factor."

He shakes once, a silent chuckle. "And that is what?"

I open my mouth, but again can't think of how to describe it without sounding either trite or gaggingly sweet. Instead, I lean slightly in his direction. When he doesn't move, I dart in and kiss him quickly on the cheek, then sit bolt upright again, sitting beside him, facing off into the Plains. That's the best I can explain it to him.

God, my cheeks are on fire. I roll my lips between my teeth; I can still feel his skin on them. He didn't shave today, or probably yesterday, but his stubble isn't unpleasantly scratchy. I can barely even see it on his face anyway, usually. Odd that I didn't notice it with my fingers.

He doesn't say anything, but I can feel that he's looking at me. My God, I probably went and messed it all up. My face just gets warmer and warmer from the shame. He's probably going to...

Something touches me, and I jump; it's his hand. He's reached to grab one of mine from where I tucked them between my knees in mortifiation.

I smile.