Thank you for bearing with me~

Perhaps he'd been a little too harsh on her.

The moment he'd realized that something had changed in him, in regards to her, well naturally he felt frightened. He didn't enjoy things that were strange or new to him, and perhaps that was why he regarded her so warily. She'd proven her mettle time and time again. Each time he'd decided to put a little more faith in her, she'd do something suspicious.

She'd wander off all the time, at bizarre times, in completely different attire. She'd become fast friends with the thief, whom he noticed had the tendency of hanging on to her. What was with that name he'd given her, anyway? Bubbles? What reason did he have to come up with that anyways?

Speaking of which...said thief was really not on his good side. Frederick had...had come around and decided that maybe he owed her an apology. He'd heard that she'd succumbed to fatigue and was nurtured by her friends and that ginger man. He couldn't help but shake of the nagging feeling that he had a part to play in it. He was nothing but brusque, and rude to her. And yet, he'd allowed himself to enjoy her disgustingly gentle touches. Why did he do that?

Frederick had returned to his tent when he saw a certain scene that made him rather uncomfortable. He was sitting crosslegged on his bedroll, organizing his socks over and over, by color and make. They were all white, brown, and black. There was only so much he could do, and yet it kept his hands busy. Not busy enough.

He sunk his head into his hands in embarrassment and...he couldn't even name the feeling. What was it, lust? Happiness? A word that was too despicable to utter? He'd ashamedly let the woman touch him as she pleased, and reveled in the feeling. He felt unbearably warm inside, as though her fingers were spread across his lips that very instant. He'd wanted to snatch her up and kiss her right there and then, but what was left of his rational, tired self stopped him in his tracks when he could sense that perhaps she wanted the same.

He'd doubt it normally, but he noticed her gestures towards taking care of him. He still had an ache from when he fell, and had taken to taking care of it himself. He needed not to burden others, and was fine. It was but a scrape. Yet he found steady supplies of bandages and vulneraries left on his pillow each evening when he retired to his tent. He'd duly return the vulneraries, yet he'd wrap the bandages around his leg with a small smile on his face, picturing her with her usual pout, forcibly taking care of him.

What was this?

Was he really fantasizing?

Yes, a snide voice said in his voice. Memories were his friend more and more often these days. He'd recall every touch they shared, any time her body was pressed against his. He remembered them toppled over together, he remembered leaning over, against her. Once in fury, he wondered if those instances held something heavier. An increasingly familiar sensation was bothering him in his rather, er, private area and he groaned. He wanted her. There was no denying it any longer. He wanted to touch her. He wanted to kiss her, he wanted to touch her hair. And he was going to hell for this, but his thoughts strayed to a less chaste path. He wanted their limbs tangled together with their sweat sticking to the other's body. He wanted to feel her barely able to breathe, and wanted to fill her up with every frustration, every bit of desire he has been struggling with. He'd been fighting off these sinful thoughts but...but jealousy was a dangerous thing.

Jealous? Him?

Don't deny it, that voice continued in his head. Thinking of defiling the woman like this, with your, urges. You're wrought with jealousy, and have become a slave to it. You and your lord are on tenterhooks, you're putting the thief through unnecessarily grueling work, and you're downright ignoring that poor woman.

Well, Frederick argued with himself, a thought that made him wonder if he was truly going down the path of a lunatic, What am I doing wrong? I'm saving milord from someone he cannot wish to pursue without negative repercussions. The thief needs to work anyway, and be a contributing shepherd, instead of...

Instead of going into a tent with Robin and doing Naga knows what. He'd seen her kiss the man and slip into his tent, and he took that as a cue to leave. He'd gone out with good intentions, only to return to his bed in frustration. One day she's drooling for the prince, another she's touching him, and now she kisses another. Goodness, for such a typically oblivious girl she sure had her admirers. Considering the state that he was in, he could hardly blame the others, although he had spent the last several hours picturing his fingers wrapped around the ginger's head, wringing it gleefully...

Perhaps he should get some air.

After putting his socks away, wrinkled from being organized so much, he stepped out and sighed. The evening air was a little chilly without his armor, but it was good for his head. Frederick walked aimlessly, for once, silently crunching grass covered in the beginnings of morning dew. His feet found it's way to a certain tactician's tent. The flap was fluttering in the breeze and he clucked his tongue. How irresponsible of her, to not even secure it. What if someone were to just stroll in, take off with everything? Or someone could sneak in whilst she were sleeping, without even having to make a sound, then what would they do?

Frederick was fiddling with the entrance when he heard a soft, weary voice question him.

"What are you doing with my tent?" It was Robin, of course. She was red from doing goodness knows what, and dressed in a light black outfit more suited for sneaking around than anything else. She had a satchel over her shoulder, and could see hints of her robe sticking out. Around her neck was a familiar looking ribbon, and he could see a purple stone resting in the dip of her cleavage. She looked different, in her black tank top, equally dark and tight fitted shorts, He certainly had gotten used to her in her baggy robe, and it wasn't as though he needed any more incentive to stay up at night, cursing himself out. Naga knows he's been staying away from her, but...

"I'm fixing it, as you clearly are too busy screwing around with that thief."

"I-How do you know what I'm up to, hm?" Robin gripped her left shoulder with her right hand and looked down at her feet, still in it's usual boots, uncomfortably. "You don't care at all. Why are you so involved in what I do or not do, and whom I do it with?"

"Because you are a liability." His habit of mixing a sharp tongue with the cruelest words he can find is as active as ever, even though he'd planned to offer a truce just earlier on. Frederick felt a twinge of guilt when he saw her face fall, only to be contorted in irritation, an expression he was beginning to feel was only reserved for the knight.

"Funny, how above and beyond you're going for a liability like me." She spat out the words, getting visibly heated as her limbs tensed up, her fingers curled into a fist and ready to take him head on.

"You don't understan-"

"Who's there?" Just then they heard a patrol guard meander off course towards them, probably drawn by their argument.

"Go inside," Frederick said, and grabbed her wrist, and used his free hand to make a shushing motion, and yanked her inside her own tent.

"You are infuriatingly rude!"

"I believed that it would be more prudent to continue this conversation away from the night guard. Must you make a mountain out of a molehill out of each and every matter?"

"Conversation?" Robin scoffed. Well, he couldn't blame her, it was more of an escalating argument if one were to split hairs. "This...this is my tent, you can't just pull me inside!" She wrenched her wrist out of his grasp and even stomped her feet for good measure.

"Forgive me, milady. I will allow you to scream at me in the middle of the night and perturb everyone's slumber, from now on. Surely it will be a good training exercise for everyone."

"Ugh, I...What is it? Just...what is it? You'll ignore me for weeks on end, but you'll be fixing my tent, and I don't even know why you were here in the first place. You'll say I'm not your friend and yet you've treated me as one-"

"I've never-"

"I heard about what you did, you know. If you thought it was going to be a secret, then I am sorry to have disappoint you. Why did you do it anyway?" That was...that was very sudden. Why did he do it? He absolutely had to, that's why. And yet he tormented himself over the answer to the point he turned her away, time and time again.

"I-That is, you are a valuable asset to the army, and to find a new tactician-" The same old, practiced answers were beginning to taste stale on his tongue, and he was losing ground quickly.

"Would be troublesome? Oh please, I don't claim to have a great mind. I'm dispensable, and the way you loathe me, you should have just left me to die and solve all your problems in one fell swoop!" Robin was gesturing so wildly, she'd almost hit him in the face. "You'd not even had to havelifted a finger! You should have let me die, and i would have had less of a headache and-oh!" She was horrible. Talking about her death so casually, as though he'd allow such a thing as lieutenant of Ylissean army, for their tactician to fall to something so trivial. He had his hand around her wrist once more, and pulled her to him. Frederick cupped her chin with the other, and his face was dangerously close and looking down at her, just as it had many times before. He could see her eyebrows furrowing and unfurrowing, as though struggling to maintain an angry appearance.

"You. You can't just say anything and expect me to stand here and listen. Is that any way to say thank you?"

"Thank you for what! Inconveniencing me by saving me? Please let me die next time if this is-"

Frederick found that he could stand this no more, the thought of her being gone was unbearable...So what bearing did that have to the fact that his lips were upon hers? The muffled gasp into his mouth was absolutely satisfying, and he felt as though someone had hit him with a large dose of aphrodisiac. "You stubborn...stubborn...woman..." He muttered these words as their lips slid over each other's in messy, hungry kisses.

"I h-hate you so much," she murmured back, her arms desperately wrapping around his neck as she searched for purchase, and soon he felt small fingers tugging at his hair. He could feel her wobble against him, as though her knees were growing weak. It felt rather fantastic to know that he had this effect on her. His hands snaked to her waist, and kept her steady. Frederick tasted the faint flavor of butterscotch as his tongue slid across her teeth and he growled, knowing the source of it. His hands took the liberty of roaming her body, fueled by his swell of jealousy. Robin was just as eager and pressed up her body against him, biting his lip in little nips that were teasing him more than he'd care to admit. It was when his hand had cupped her breast, and she let out the faintest little moan, that he knew he had to come to his senses. He tore his lips away from hers with much reluctance and looked back at her.

Her face was flush, her lips swollen, and her hair was already in a mess. Her eyes were wide open, as she'd begun to realize what had just transpired. He shouldn't have done this. What was he thinking? A man, kissing a woman late at night in her own tent. He needed to take care of her reputation. He had to control these...these whatever, whatever feelings of lust had borne of their time together.

"Frederick?" She tried to touch his cheek gently, but he stepped away. He let go of her completely and stumbled backwards, horrified at what he had done in a fit of senselessness. He didn't even have room to think about the thud in his chest from the way she spoke his name.

"No...Stay away from me. I'm...I'm sorry," he choked out the last two words, words that were just as shocking to say as it looked like it was shocking for her to hear. And with that, the man departed, leaving her the familiar sight of his back, escaping from her yet again.