Legals: Fire Emblem doesn’t belong to me. This story does – do not steal it/borrow it/post it elsewhere/blah blah. If you would like to post it somewhere, email me and ask first.

Author’s Notes: It’s been a long, long time since I last wrote anything, but here I am.

All Up In Arms

Written by Melfice

On occasion, Matthew had thought about what it might be like to bed Serra. It would be an interesting time, he had decided. He had also decided that it would indeed be a "time," not "times" and definitely not "many times." No, one night with Serra would be more than enough; after one night, he'd likely never want to step foot in the same country as her.

She was easy on the eyes, Matthew had decided after long deliberation, and by that he meant that it was neither painful nor unpleasant to look at her on a day-to-day basis. She wasn't the typical sort of woman he usually found attractive, but he didn't let that impede his decision any; he could admit to himself when he saw an attractive woman.

He would often gaze appreciatively at the spectacular view he had of the priestess as she bent over to retrieve something or the other from the large boxes of supplies. The robes she wore fit her as snug as the gloves on her hands, outlining each and every curve in her petite form. It allowed for a very enticing image without sacrificing the room his imagination had to explore.

It was difficult for Matthew to think of applying feelings to this attraction. For one, it was Serra. She was a nice girl, with good intentions and a good heart, but he took her in small doses. Serra wasn’t the sort of girl that you thought about settling down with and spending the rest of your life loving and cherishing.

“You’ve got to ask yourself,” Hector had said to him one night, after watching Serra stomp off in frustration, “does it bother you that you might have feelings for Serra or that you might have feelings for someone other than Leila?”

Leila was still a touchy subject for Matthew and not one that he really preferred to discuss. His young master’s comment had hit a sore spot in Matthew, but not one that angered him any longer. Matthew had begun to wonder himself, as the war ended and many of his comrades began to build their lives, when he had accepted her death and let her go?

It did not have to mean by any account that he was ready to move on. Matthew had been a loner before Leila had come along and he had no issues with resuming that path.

On the other hand, hearing news that Serra had decided to do a bit of personal traveling made something inside of him do an ungraceful flop. Thoughts of the admittedly bold and brave, but realistically vulnerable, priestess out on her own were troubling. Serra’s newly acquired magical abilities were impressive, but her short attention span and gullibility more than made up for it.

“Then follow her!” Hector had bellowed, annoyed and amused in that way that only Hector was truly capable of being. “If I see you moping around the castle tomorrow, mumbling and sulking, I’m sticking you under Sain’s command for the rest of the season.”

The prospect of spending every day dueling and training with the knights wasn’t pleasant, but Matthew could always make the most out of any situation – under normal circumstances. Sain had, without a doubt, developed the most grueling and exhausting training program to weed out new, ambitious recruits; his mentor would be proud.

It had been interesting circumstances that had led him to join Serra’s company and traipse about the countryside with her. The trip itself, however, was quite enjoyable and showed him a side of Serra that he wasn’t positive he would’ve seen any other way.

There were times, at the end of a long day of traveling, when he’d spot her sitting quietly near the fire. Her eyes stared off into space, her face relaxed and peaceful, and a gentle smile on her face.

The first time she’d glanced up at him, that smile still upon her lips and her eyes comforting and warm, his heart had skipped a beat. It had been a fleeting moment, just a flicker, and then she had turned back to stare into space again. The moment had been long enough for Matthew though and he had briefly considered slamming his skull into a nearby tree for several minutes to clear his head.

Serra was not, he discovered slowly, always loud and obnoxious. The part that bothered him the most was that even when she had resorted back to the demanding attitude that he knew so well from her, that it melted against him harmlessly and left him more amused than annoyed. It was, he had discovered over time, endearing.

Some nights were worse than others. Some nights he found himself openly watching her as she wrote away in the small book she carried with her, recording the details of her journey. They were visiting places dear to her in some way, but she scarcely mentioned them until they were there; Matthew didn’t ask many questions, just followed and marveled at her genuine lack of a sense of direction.

One night he had found himself sitting next to hear, reading the words as she wrote them in her journal, mumbling corrections in as many different voices as he could conjure up. Every now and then she would take his advice and change a word or two or add an event she had left out. More often than not she would write a small sentence on Matthew’s annoying habits and how he should randomly walk into a patch of poison ivy.

Even when he saw a different side of her, the Serra that he had known for so long was still there.

He remembered one night in particular when they had been performing their ritual of him watching and her writing. She had glanced up from her writing for a brief second, stared at the dying embers in their campfire, and then wrote her next line in bold lettering.

‘It has been a month since we set out,’ she had written in her journal, ‘and that coward has yet to kiss me!’

Matthew hadn’t been able to help but laugh.

That had been some time ago – twelve weeks? Thirteen weeks? Matthew found himself with an unsettling nagging voice in the back of his head that continuously reminded him that his attraction to her had only grown.

He also found himself in a very ideal position that had seemed very unlikely before.

Even before their journey together, Matthew could not say that he hadn’t pictured Serra lying in his tent, covered in little more than his deep red cloak, her face a matching shade of red and her nagging voice, amazingly, silent. She would stare at him with a surprisingly patient look in her eyes, clutching the cloak to her chest tightly, desperately trying to cover up with it. One edge would have fallen off her shoulders, leaving smooth, pale skin visible and causing temptation to invade Matthew's senses.

It was actually a picture that had popped into his head on several occasions – and one that he considered a very normal reaction to Serra’s attractive figure. It was not, however, something he had ever considered as an actual reality.

Now that she was lying in his bed, clutching his red cloak to her chest, and staring up at him with patient, innocent eyes…

Matthew had never really been a holy man, but he thanked whichever gods were listening.

Serra was an attractive young woman; even more so when her screeching had subsided and all he heard from her were squeaks of indignity and embarrassed whimpers of protest. Even so, some part of him knew he'd grown accustomed to her shrills and he'd miss them if they were gone for extended periods.

Right now was an entirely different matter. The vulnerable and nearly shy way she stared at him was endearing in a way he hadn't been able to imagine up. He very desperately wanted to pull his cloak from her clutches and throw it far out of her reach.

The room was dark, but Matthew could still see the bright red spreading all over Serra's face, as she tried to bury herself underneath a blanket that wasn't nearly as large as she would've liked. Her robes lay in a neat pile to the side, folded properly and in a way where there wouldn't be wrinkles or unsightly creases; Matthew had done it without being asked or told, which just proved they likely spent far too much time together.

She was watching his movements like a hawk, her entire body tense, and a blanket and his cloak covering every inch of skin that she could force it to. It was, he decided after a moment, insanely cute.

He had known she was going to be nervous, from the moment he'd picked her up and carried her across the room and laid her down on the bed. Yet it was still something different to see her so without words and so apprehensive.

"You seem tense," he said, placing one hand on her bare knee and biting back an amused smile as she jumped - and squeaked. Had he mentioned cute?

“I-I’m not! I just… err… I forgot I have a book in the oven – a cake! A cake in the oven! That’s it.”

He didn’t even attempt to hide his laughter. “With your cooking skills I would expect a book to be in the oven.”

The blunt smack to the side of his head was deserved. “Matthew!”

Another amused smile found its way onto his face. Still smiling, he leaned down and gave her a quick kiss. “Say the word, my lady, and we’ll turn over and say goodnight.”

“I know, but…” she stared at him for several moments longer and slowly, painfully slowly, laid down completely.

Her laying there, her eyes closed and her body relaxed...her bare shoulders and legs left uncovered by his cloak...

Her eyes opened again and she looked him in the eye, face still an endearing shade of crimson. “I want to.”

Matthew fought his immediate urge to ravish the young woman senseless right then and there. Willpower was, fortunately, something he’d been rather blessed with. Several happy voices in his head danced and chorused, ‘Yes!’ over and over.

It did very little to satisfy that tiny beacon of conscience in the back of his head.

Yet it was that tiniest, unsatisfied part of him that overpowered each and every one of those that were louder and more prominent.

“I second that,” Matthew told her with a grin, but his eyes were gentle. “I’ll want to when you’re ready as well. I can wait, Serra; don’t do anything you’ll regret to please me.”

She scoffed, quite loudly. “Please you! I can do things without thinking of you, Matthew! If you tried- Eek! What are you doing?!”

His grin broadened as he tossed the cloak to the floor. With one hand he grabbed the blanket at the edge of the bed and pulled it over the both of them in a flourish. His other hand snaked around her bare waist and pulled her soft body against his. “I thought we might get some sleep then. Is that a problem?”

She squirmed and ‘meep’ed as one of his hands carefully explored her bare skin.

“S-Sleep! You!”

Matthew’s hand returned to her waist and he buried his face in her neck with a sigh.

“Mm…you’re so beautiful.”

She was still blushing badly enough that he could feel the heat radiating from her body, but some of the tension seemed to drain from her muscles and she relaxed against him.

He heard her open her mouth several times, but no words came out. Then, finally, a very soft, “Good night, Matthew.”

He smiled, for what seemed like the hundredth time that night.