Author's Notes: Hey look! It didn't die immediately:D Be proud! ... Kind of sad, isn't it? But anyway. The future chapters should actually come faster, since I have a number of future scenes written out. (Including some rather large ones for chapters three and four. Two is still giving me issues, especially with chapter name.)

For starters, I was being stupid and forgot to put italics into the entire prologue, as it's technically Soren's writing. Corrected now. Uh, put simply, there are two major plot lines, one taking place about 5 years after the defeat of Ashnard, the other taking place about 3 and a half year after. The former (shall call future-arc from now on) is conveyed through Soren's writing, in first person; the other is in third-person narration. For reasons that will emerge as obvious later, the future-arc is more political in nature, and the past-arc is more romantic in nature. We start with larger portions of the past-arc for the sake of plot pacing, and after a certain point, it'll almost be entirely future-arc.

And I'm glad I got such a high level of enthusiasm for this. XD Hopefully this thing doesn't die on me, as 45 Deaths did. It's going to move a bit quickly, mostly to keep myself interested. (On that note, I'm also shooting my perfectionism in the face, and I will openly proclaim that some areas of this might just be plain bad.)

I realize that some of the points presented in the first scene might be quite controversial by today's standards, but I'm hoping that people won't get enraged over a slight reference, especially since Soren's... Soren.

Finally, I must thank my mother for announcing over my shoulder while watching the final cut scene that Ike and Elincia were staring at each other with "such passion." Thanks to her, I have some idea of how to write a heterosexual Ike. :shot:

Disclaimer: Still not of legal age, rich, or male.

Chapter One – Advisory

"You," I stated as I pulled the cloth tight around her waist, "are doing an extreme disservice to your country. That is what I think of this."

She stares at me, sorrowful, apparently because I had confirmed her fears. "... Am I?"

"Yes." She flinched, sucking in her breath as if to expect that I would pull the cloth even harder on her, in dissatisfaction. But I did not, nor did I elaborate, knowing that I did not want Ike's affair to be exposed any more than she did.

"... Soren?"

"Mmn?" I reached for the expertly sewn pillow-like ball on the counter top and tucked it in, then proceeded to wrap around it.

"What would you do?"

"An irrelevant question."

"No, it's not," Elincia said, slightly desperate. "What would you do if you were in my position?"

I finished wrapping and handed her a dress, her usual favorite, similar to the orange piece she had worn five years ago, when we had saved Crimea. And I found it ironic that this would be the garb she would wear as we destroyed its future. "The same, assuming that I had your body."

She looked at me questioningly, then asked simply, "Why?"

"I am loyal only to Ike. Then, by extension, Crimea."

"... So you would 'abandon' this country for yourself. Like you're accusing me of doing."

"That I would. But unlike you, I have no reason to favor Crimea, as the situation is now." I gestured for her to lift her arms, and she complied. Her body, still well curved with youth, filled the dress much like before. "In addition, I would not take any action that may result in Ike's death by a mob of the populace."

She frowned. "And you expect me to?"

"The differing aspect between this hypothetical situation and ours is that I am another entity. I could aid Ike's escape."

"But... the child..."

"The unborn child could be disposed of --"

"Soren!" she snapped harshly. "I do not approve of such brutality!"

"You've made your thoughts clear on the topic already," I replied calmly, buttoning the dress in the back. "I do not intend to press that option upon you. Although..." I distracted myself with pulling Elincia's hair out from between the buttons, "I find you still hypocritical. Is it just to alleviate your own guilt that you participate in this? So that when people die, you would already be next to Ashera?"

"Soren, please..."

"Yes, yes, it's a well worn-out topic. I'm done, get yourself over to the mess hall."

Speaking with Elincia, so distraught and caught in this complex circle of events, is tiring. Speaking with Elincia, regardless of circumstances, is tiring. I suppose that the majority of the blame for her mindset towards me falls on my own shoulders, a fact she has an affinity for pondering. Perhaps it is female nature to dote on a single happening and treat it as the entirety of an entity. Perhaps it is not.

Ike made a rare public appearance during dinner. He complemented the chef, despite the fact that he had been dining on a type of corn, although I do not believe he noticed. Afterwards, he took Elincia and I aside, into Elincia's room – the most secure room in the palace, it is believed – and whispered to us, excitedly, that he could feel the small creature responding from within her.

Children seem to make fathers out of any sort of man with any sense of compassion. It is a bizarre phenomenon, but unquestionably present in Ike's eyes as he gestured to indicate the probable size of the child, his aimless chatting about his hopes for a daughter, and then a digression as he realized mid-ramble that he would be happy for either gender. Elincia smiled a strained smile and nodded; I marveled at the ecstasy in his eyes, the complete transformation at the once-brash, once-combative man. Through the past one or two years, it was as if Ike had suddenly changed. I cannot blame this on romantic love, as that had been brewing even before then. There was some sort of giddiness he found at the aspect of fatherhood, one that I cannot understand.

Can I understand any of this suddenly transformed Ike? I can only hope that a sense of normalcy will set in after the birth.

Elincia frowned, attempting to thread the string through the eye of the needle without success. She had been working on this task for quite some time, hoping that she at least had some hold on her abilities of the past.

"Please, Queen Crimea," the maid pleaded, "allow us to serve you." She hovered dotingly over Elincia's shoulder, appearing rather old, but at the same time, holding the youthful energy that one seems to possess when one has lived a satisfactory life, and is still quite happy to see the sun of another day.

With a sigh, Elincia handed the string and needle over to the maid, as well as the dress. "I'm afraid that my eyesight may have deteriorated in the past few years already."

"Not uncommon in your family," the maid reaffirmed, already having threaded the needle and now expertly stitching an even line, repairing the dress. "Your uncle," the maid's breath paused slightly, "his vision had began to ebb in his youth."

Elincia nodded, watching the maid's sewing with slight envy. Her face turned slightly nostalgic. "I remember that he had a pair of reading glasses that he wore when he visited the library. Father, too."

The maid suppressed a chuckle. "That was simply old age."

Elincia flushed. "Oh."

The maid was nearly finished. The birds' chirping was audible from the open window, and the scent of spring wafted in. The dress repaired, she held it in front of her, then near Elincia, as if imagining her in it. "Yes, yes, that will do," she muttered, lowering it and smiling.

"Thank you."

"No, don't thank me," the maid chastised. "You are such a humble queen at times."

She began to blush slightly again. "I often forget that I am. Queen, that is," she added at the maid's confusion.

"Ah... ah." The maid shook her head slightly, seeming to remember. "Oh, so sorry, so sorry..."

"It's fine," she responded softly, taking and folding the dress. "It's true that many horrible things happened." She walked to the dresser and laid it into a drawer. "But it all turned out rather well, didn't it? ... Well... as well as a war could possibly turn out."

The maid nodded stiffly, her hands clenching around her skirt.

"Ah, but – it's all fine now!" Elincia smiled brightly, trying to cheer up the other woman. "Crimea's future has been secured."

"Has it?" the maid said, relieved at the lighter tone of conversation. "Crimea's future, hm? Have you been conversing with that roguish general of yours?"

Elincia blinked for a moment, and then realization sunk in. "Oh, no!" she said a bit too quickly. "No, I was speaking of the immediate future, my place on the throne, um..." she continued to blush. "I... I believe Ike has eyes for someone else," she said quietly, though she looked as if she were unconvinced, the youth of infatuation still in her eyes.

The maid shook her head, bemused, remembering the first man she had been smitten with. Of course, in her age, that was certainly a long, long time ago... "In any case, I don't believe he'd make a bad leader. And the people certainly love him."

"That they do," Elincia agreed, obviously looking for a chance to escape the conversation.

The maid chuckled, nostalgic at the queen's reaction. "Actually, the reason I bring this up is because a letter had arrived today."

"A letter? ... From Ike?"

"Ike's staff officer," the maid reminded her, with some distaste at her recollection of him – quite a rude young man. "Script is not Ike's strong point."

"Oh – yes, yes, of course," she said hurriedly, urging forward the topic at hand. "And of its content?"

"Ah, an old friends' gathering," the maid said, a smile still on her face. "And in addition, especially in your case, some minor negotiations between ambassadors from Gallia, Kilvas, and yourself."

"Kilvas? Not Pheonicis?" Elincia wondered, although part of her mind was clearly thinking of the gathering part rather than the nations.

"King Tibarn unfortunately has scheduled for a skilled medic from Begnion to check on ... King Serenes?"

"Lorazieh," Elincia provided.

"Yes, Lorazieh's condition," she finished. "Kilvas will be there to represent the bird tribe instead, although if their reputation suits them..."

"Yes," Elincia said with a slight giggle. "Reyson was probably not happy with that."

"Rumor has it that the bird tribes are at least cooperating decently, though I can't account for any personal feelings. But that will be something you will discover... after your arrival?" The maid asked it as if it were the question of whether Elincia would go.

Elincia nodded. "Of course." It was a given for her.

"Mist was complaining about loosing her journal today," he said, muffled.

"Mist keeps a journal?"

He pulled the shirt completely on and smoothed a few wrinkles. "Something about expression. Must be a girl thing."

"Gatrie keeps one."

"He does?"

"I fathom it may be more of a log concerning his successes with women, however." Soren had doodled in his boredom a variety of things probably intended to be living, though vaguely resembling x's and sigmas. He added, ...The concept of a diary – the words created of mankind flowing into bestial expression – a 'dear' diary...

"Hunh. ... Well, anyway, how's this one?"

"No."

"Soren, you haven't even looked up at me yet..."

Soren raised an eyebrow and lowered his book, giving Ike a glance before turning back towards the book. "No."

Ike sighed and tugged at the edges of the tunic. "What's wrong with it?"

"It doesn't suit this sort of meeting."

"It's a friendly gathering, Soren, loosen up..."

"If it were entirely friendly," he pointed out, "Naesala wouldn't be here."

"... Point taken. But does he even know about beorc dressing customs?"

Soren shrugged. "Superficial appearances are important."

Ike grumbled and flung the shirt off his head, flinging it with a soft thwap against the opposing dresser.

"The more acceptable outfits are over to your right," Soren said, face still in his book, waving his hand off in the aforementioned direction.

Ike curiously opened the chest, then frowned. "They look... constraining."

"They are. They're also required of you in these situations."

A knock came at the door, and Ike breathed a sigh of relief, bounding over to it. Soren looked over his book curiously, then giving an audible sigh as Ike opened the door, still shirtless.

Elincia blushed very, very deeply. "A-ah, Lord Ike..."

Ike blinked, then gave a soft, slightly embarrassed, "Oh, right," before closing the door and stuffing the shirt he had previously thrown on the dresser over his head.

"Ike? ... I thought I told you that tunic is..."

"It's Elincia!" he complained ("Queen Elincia," Soren interjected), slightly muffled through the fabric of the shirt. He finished pulling it over himself before opening the door again, flushed and asking, "Uh, want to talk outside?"

Elincia gave a curious glance towards Ike's shirt and then Soren, who eyed that shirt with a certain amount of withheld distaste. "Yes, if you wish."

Ike nodded and left the room before rushing back to hold the door open and calling to Soren, "Would you come get me when the guests arrive?"

Soren nodded, though he thought for a moment before raising his eyebrow. "The laguz guests are arriving far after sunset."

"Uh, yes, that's fine," Ike amended quickly. "Thanks, Soren." He let the door close, and the echoes of his footsteps receded from the room.

It was impossible to see the sky or land in that room, mostly lit by a few oil lamps tossed around the room. He wondered, slightly annoyed, how he was supposed to determine anything about the arrival of the guests.

Closing his book, puffs of dust flying away from it, he tucked it under his arm and shoved the door open, walking down the familiar halls to his room. He passed by an open window. It appeared that the time spent in the holding room was not as long as he had anticipated; it could not have been more than three hours past midday. Elincia and Ike were outside, Elincia pointing at a squirrel, absolutely fascinated; Ike was clueless as to why.

Soren passed by the window, but not without playing with the ropes holding the curtains back, persuading them to let the curtains fall. But he seemed to only complicate the knot, and as he wondered if it was a maid's talent, and a maid's talent alone, he left it alone.

"Yes?" A creak of the door. The mage raised an eyebrow at the nervous woman who stood in the doorway. "Queen Elincia? I thought you were with Ike?"

"He... left rather quickly. Some of the guests arrived."

Soren lifted his gaze to the hallway beyond Elincia's figure, and found that there was still light coming in from the windows. "Rather quickly, might I add."

Elincia cleared her throat lightly."Ah, Soren... would you... please help me?"

"With?"

"... I... I ..." she swallowed her nervousness. "Do you know of... anything Ike likes, in particular?"

Soren eyed her. "Why have you come to ask me?"

She blushed slightly. "I don't know where to start with a man... this is really the first time I've had to do something like this..."

"No."

"B-But, Soren..." she shuffled her feet in the doorway, a hand still on the door frame. "I... I need your help... I don't know much about him at all..."

There. She said it. In that moment, it was as if she had confessed – but instead of relieving her guilt, it only solidified the truthfulness of that statement. She didn't know anything about Ike.

"Well, then..." Soren paused, seemingly thinking something over, "I suppose you'll have to go and actually learn something about him." He said the last statement more scathingly than he typically spoke, frightening Elincia even more.

"But he's always so busy, and--"

"Excuses. Denial."

"--And spending time with YOU," she nearly screamed, before stepping back and clasping her hands over her mouth in shock at what she, herself, had said. "Oh, Soren, I'm sorry..."

Soren stared at her coldly for a few moments before returning to his work. "Was that an accusation?"

"... Of... course not."

Soren shrugged, holding a piece of paper to the candlelight, examining it, scribbling down something. "Soren?" He continued to write, not acknowledging her in any way. Elincia felt most uncomfortable lingering there silently, an effect that she realized was probably intentional. She shifted her weight, making a movement to leave, when she heard a sigh come from Soren.

"Your position is most unfortunate," he said, in a low-pitched voice. "Ike would never be able to be happy, trussed up in a castle."

"I understand that."

He fell silent again, not writing any notes, but still staring at the paper. He knew what would happen. He would say, If you truly do wish to obtain Ike's attentions, then to begin, you cannot be the queen of Crimea. That might ensure his complete victory over Ike's affections – if they must be called that. And she would look heartbroken, leave the room; but there was a slight chance that she would resign, if she was desperate enough. And then, what would happen to Crimea?

His attention snapped back to what he was reading, and he realized that what he had wrote for the past thirty minutes was complete nonsense. He neatly folded the paper up two times, before his actions grew violent, crumpling the paper into a ball and throwing it with a trained wrist into the trash bin. The ball of paper fell into the dead center of it, the tip of a growing pile.

Soren realized with growing agitation that he was becoming distracted.

"He likes spicy meats," he muttered.

"... What?" Elincia found what she was hearing incredibly difficult to believe.

"Ike. Likes. Spicy. Meat. Dishes. A man's stomach is the way to his heart, and whatnot. If I recall correctly, you learned to cook in your youth, correct?"

"... Yes. Oh, thank you so much!" Elincia almost ran to hug Soren in thankfulness, but refrained from doing so, sensing the tenseness that somehow pervaded the air. So, instead, she left, somehow feeling that it would help him more.

Soren let his head fall onto his desk, wondering why he was becoming his own antagonist. His act of helping Elincia was almost self-destructive, unusual for his usual forward and blunt behavior. But, Ike had disapproved of him so greatly when he made her cry once before.

He ran through his earlier notes, picking out the bits of trash among them. He examined a messy sheet, scanning it, picking out his scribbles of "The concept of a diary – the words created of mankind flowing into bestial expression – a 'dear' diary". He crumpled it up, not even bothering to fold it, and tossed it into the trash can, where it bounced off the rim before landing inside.

It was a stupid idea, holding a diary dear.


Endnotes: And now I shall ruin the seriousity with my spazzing! (And don't mind the overly emo Soren, we get normal-thinking-too-hard-and-blunt Soren back quite soon.)

I would slow down the pace of the romance if I could, but with the way the plot lines are tangling up, I have to hurry up and reach quite a few twists in the romance quickly so the political plotline isn't going to give them away prematurely. If I were to cut down on the political plotline, I could spend a good three or four chapters leading up to this point, but... No, I have too much to get done already. :sweat: Argh, this feels so rushed to me, though. So, so rushed. It huuuurts. I suppose I've gotten into the habit of writing one-shots a little too much.

Elincia's eyesight is not canon, but I figured that with all the royal inbreeding... oi, there's probably something in there that's not good.

Yes, Kilvas was thrown in there so Naesala could have a cameo or two. There's so little non-OC-romance fic about him out there. Makes me sad.

Also, am I the only one who things that I unintentionally write things that sound mildly sexual? XD;;

Reviews make me happy. :3