A keep for Soren's post-war journey...

A Personal Celebration

April 3, 650 / 2011So... another year has gone by...A sigh passed through thin lips with Soren’s chin in his hands as he sat on the edge of a riverbank, staring down at his reflection. Another passed, and somehow, he was still alive. Today was more of an anniversary than a date of birth, but only he knew that. He never told Ike why he chose it. He just accepted it as fact. Mist, in a bid to get to know him better and knowing he was an orphan, once asked him if he’d chosen the day and why. He noted it as both a minuscule detail and a bother to go into, but in truth, it marked the day he found new hope. He had no idea when he was actually born. Not that it mattered, really. He was still here, still breathing, still running off of that glimmer of hope he’d been given that day.He had no identity up until the day Ike held out his hand to him. By that point, he didn't even have a name to go by. Maybe that's what made it so much more significant... Having the ability of choice, to choose his own day to celebrate his existence.Powerful. That’s how it felt.This was the day his life had been saved all those years ago. In a way, it was like he had been born again, so he might as well call it his birthday.It had not always been a celebration for him personally, but that's what he told the other kids at the church he'd been taken into when they asked.And now look at him.He was still breathing somehow, after all he had been through, still able to sit on the grass, feel the air comb through his hair, and look at the reflection of himself in the gently rippling waters. For the first time in his life, to really look at himself without an ounce of pity or disgust… That in itself was a miracle.What he felt as he peered down into the water was both foreign and confusing, but he was ultimately content nonetheless. Nothing hurt or ached. Nothing kept him up at night. Nothing ate him alive. This time around, he could confidently say that things were peaceful. Everything was okay. That was much more than he could ever ask for.Maybe this year he could really see his “birthday” for what it was, instead of an anniversary. Maybe this year, it didn't have to be about being saved by Ike and being given a second chance at life. Maybe it could be about the fact that he was still somehow here in the world, able to say that today was his birthday. Maybe it could finally be about him.And somehow, despite how long life would be for him, he could find it in himself to accept that from here on out.

Home Sweet Home

June 23, 658 / 2019Soren looked down at the key in his palm and sighed softly. To think he was supposed to be in possession of it all this time, and by a series of his own mistakes, had lost it all to a dream that quite never came true no matter how hard he pushed for it. With nothing more than a bag of clothing and a couple books over his shoulder, he trudged to a small, secluded cottage nestled in an alcove right off of the woods just a few days south of Melior, Crimea and right off the river that ran through the center of the country. Once he reached the door, his lips parted so that he could suck in as much air as his lungs could hold and nimble hands steadied themselves to twist the key under the handle.What the door led to was an empty room full of what his hopes and dreams used to be. Everything was still the same as he left it—not that he had furniture to begin with—aside from the dull layer of dust that covered the tops of each surface. He didn’t mind having to clean it all, though. He was just grateful nothing had been touched while he was away from it all. The room consisted of a kitchen of sorts, with a hallway on the right that led to a handful of other rooms.The sage made his way to the farthest room on the right-hand side and set his bag down. In it remained a wardrobe, a small chest, and a full-sized bed with no linen on it. He never had the chance to buy any.The small man took a seat on the bed and stared down at the cloudy slate flooring. Ruby eyes slowly wandered to the wooden panels covering the window. He would have to get those changed soon, now that he preferred glass panes and had the means to purchase them. There was so much work to be done, he thought, fully taking in the state of the home he’d left behind years ago.Of the money Vaati had given him, which came out to a grand total of four million rupees, he was able to bribe the keyholder into reselling the land to him for only 90,000 rupees because they had no set currency conversion to Gold in Tellius (yet, and not with any hope). Being in this space once more made him realize that a large portion of that would go to renovation and making his home more comfortable to exist within. The rest would go into savings as an emergency fund.Perhaps this little space was something attainable for him to finally look forward to.

The Storm Before the Calm

7 Days Prior - October 13, 659 / 2020Hours passed and Soren received nothing from Vincent. Strange on his part. He would have, at most, taken half an hour to let him know if he was still free or at home at all. The night beforehand, he said he would be available. He said he'd be doing nothing, in fact, and Soren used this opportunity to plot a little surprise for him. If they were anything alike, just the two of them for a little while would be enough company.But this wasn't like him. At all. A feeling of doubt churned in his stomach, and in his mind, a hint of fear was stuffed back down into the dark pocket it tried to creep out of. Tucked into his arm was a bottle of red wine beginning to chill in the fall air that pushed past him, and in that hand was a single red velvet cupcake, boxed nice and neat and growing stale the longer he stood around. In the other hand was the phone he'd been given. Not wanting another text to go unnoticed in case he hadn't seen them, or the gifts in his arm to spoil, he decided to quell his worries and face them head-on, heading straight to his apartment. Each step was ingrained into him; he visited so often, his feet knew exactly where to carry him, what the quickest route to his destination would be. He could be thankful for navigation being the least of his worries while he ruminated on what to say when he got there. 'Surprise, I have no idea if you enjoy this flavor but it reminded me of you?' or maybe he could stick with his, 'I just happened to be in the area' story. Or maybe just a simple happy birthday would suffice. He must've had plenty of people texting it to him and leaving voicemails. He had plenty of friends. Saying it to him in person was the most important task of the day.Just as he made his way up to his apartment, the sun was setting on the day. After his last late night stop by, he noted to himself that he should do so earlier in the day. Not that the gunman minded that much, telling him so and inviting him in every time. To be fair, they seemed to bond the most at night, when things were quiet and slow. When things went silent and they were beside themselves, at the mercy of their thoughts, it was nice to have someone else there to drown them out if only for a little while. Now, the sage’s thoughts stirred up. The hesitation to knock on the door in front of him played tug-of-war with the fragment of hope he held onto. It was hope that went against his best judgement and rattled the upper half of his body. False hope was an unpleasant feeling he slowly became conditioned to, often overshadowing his most rational, cynical conclusions. Years of doing nothing but feeling began to alter that about him, and he couldn’t be bothered to change it right now.The archsage leaned in close to the door and heard nothing. The television wasn't humming softly as it normally had, so with a small breath, he knocked, just to be sure.". . ."There was nothing. No sharp footsteps were tapping their way towards the door so he knocked again, in case he hadn't heard the first time.". . ."Again, he leaned forward to listen for something, and received nothing in return. Doubt crawled out of its hole once more. Inwardly, there was the push and pull of his instinct telling him that things were worse than he imagined and his emotion pleading for Vincent to just be preoccupied with something outside of the apartment. Checking his phone one last time, to be sure he had no response, it sat in his stomach like a bar of lead and made him sick.This can't be.A nervous hand tucked his device away and sat on the doorknob for stability, steadying itself. Steadying him. No one appreciated their space being intruded upon, and here he really felt like an intruder, but he needed to see for himself. Slowly it twisted, pushing forth and confirming his first fear: the door had been left open. A lump of spit forced its way down a dry throat while his head swiveled around to find... more nothingness in the room. Nothing was on. No one was home. But the place looked just as it always had."...Vincent?" he called out softly, seeing that the door to his bedroom was left wide open as well. If he was here, he would have been able to hear that. Still, there was no shuffling of blankets, no audible reply being made. The gifts were placed delicately on a kitchen counter so that he could continue his investigation, and continue to ground himself in reality. Though there wasn't much left to see of the place, he stepped into the bedroom anyway. Glazed, ruby eyes scanned over another empty room before settling on the nightstand.None of this felt real. His phone had been left behind. Inching over to it he took a seat on the side of the bed, allowing his fingertips to graze it, to remind himself that it was really here, with him and not with Vincent. That hand dropped, he took a quick, deep breath, then it went back to pick it up. It didn't physically feel real in his grasp either. His fingers tightened for a moment while he tried to make sense of everything happening.Did his text not go through? How long had he been gone...?Heavy lungs sucked in another sharp, shaky breath, and he mustered up the courage to flip it open. It felt as if everything had stopped for him to take in the fact that it was off.It was off.Nothing was going through.Nothing had gone through.How long...?The phone was closed in slow, ginger movements, and placed carefully in the position he found it in previously. He needed to remain sitting. Or—No. He shouldn't be here. He needed to leave. This was already a distasteful invasion of privacy, whether or not Vincent had been gone. He was going to be sick if he didn't leave this place now. He needed to go.Gods, this was disorienting. He knew it. He knew it, but his head and stomach were still doing cartwheels. Why would he...? Why today?Soren blinked and found himself back in the kitchen. What would he do with these? These were his gifts; these were for him. He couldn’t possibly consider consuming them. Sweets weren't his thing, not that he could stomach much right now, and he swore off alcohol earlier in the year. What could he do? The idea of throwing them out made the dissonance of negative, swarming thoughts worse, so much worse.He could leave the alcohol with the rest of his stash for later, in case he... Well, just in case. And that cupcake… For now, it would be carried back with him until he found something to do with it.Not another glance would be given to take in the way the apartment looked, for the fear that he might burn the image into his mind and it may haunt him the way other images did. This place was one more place of comfort he could no longer escape to, and Vincent was one more comforting face lost to the agony of time.

A Week LaterFinally, his thoughts subsided long enough to allow him proper rest. Just as he’d shaken off the less-than-pleasant reminder of what would have been his upcoming marriage anniversary, one of his closest friends up and left without so much as a goodbye. Surely, the unrequited something he felt for him contributed to the pain, but that was hardly the issue. Deep down somewhere, he felt that the gunner already knew. Unlike Ike’s oblivious nature, and while Soren was so painfully obvious sometimes, how could he not know?What mattered was that he had been abandoned. Again.Well, it didn’t matter anymore. He rolled over in bed, away from the paperwork he left scattering the tabletop beside him. As the previous night wound down, he found he was unable to lose himself in the sheets of data in front of him, fighting a losing battle to hold back the tears he had on nights before then. He was scribbling out that name in his imaginary list of people once loved and now lost in his head. His Ike, the man that rivaled that passion within him, his husband…A week passed and dawn had come once more, and he was finally out of tears. His eyes gave nothing else. He was exhausted, and his mind had fully wasted away with any more thought given to regret, fear, and frustration. Even when it thought to pick at his wounds, make it hurt more, he failed and sat in a state of numbness. The feeling spread all throughout his body until he couldn’t get up.Evening must have come. Breakfast had long flown by, along with the sounds of joy and footsteps swarming past his doorway and out into the mess hall. Then lunch, and the noise of midday commotion bubbled up on the other side of the door. Now dinner was on its way, and he had still been in bed. Somewhere along the way, while melancholy lapped at his memory, Soren dressed himself out of habit, then found himself at his desk again, looking over the same table of numbers he failed to balance yesterday. The numbers were run, put to rest, and he did the same for himself until hunger whispered in his gut. He hardly felt like putting his pitiful condition on display, so he moved back to his bed, where he remained until nightfall.The strategist sighed, pushing himself up from the bed. That small bit of rest was warranted. That was a necessity. He was fine now. Fine enough to face others, at the least. His hands moved to straighten out his hair and robes, and his legs, with what they could muster for the rest of the day, carried him out of his little safe haven of a bedroom.Once this agony passed for good, he’d never let himself get this down again. No one would ever abandon him again.

White Rain

February 14, 654 / 2015The Smash Dome felt like a totally different world sometimes. The drastic change between indoors and outdoors always left the vanguard in awe. During the fight, he’d hardly heard the thudding of the heavy downpour but now he was getting soaked in it. Still, in his mind, it was worth it. Occasionally, he’d glance down at the small raven haired man beside him.This was nice.It was like old times again, when they would travel together for the hell of it. They walked in silence from the stadium to the manor, just enjoying each other’s company, and Ike knew how much Soren needed it. It was Valentine’s Day, or the Day of Devotion, as some liked to call it. Soren had come out only a few years ago and was, unsuccessfully, trying his hand at romance. It was odd to fathom in the swordsman’s mind but his sexuality seemed the least surprising about it all. He didn’t want to think about how many people claimed to love Soren. He didn’t want to allow himself to wonder how many people Soren might’ve poured his energy into, only to be left alone. He knew the stories. He heard them first hand—though it was only from the mage’s side—and they all ended the same, so he allowed their walk to be as quiet as possible.Ike decided he’d walk him to his room, past the other fighters that decided not to attend the day’s battles. He needed to know he’d be alright. He couldn’t help himself. He figured the day must’ve meant something to Soren after all the time he’d spent trying to kindle flames with whoever he had his heart set on. After all, he had recounted to him all of his failed attempts at romance, as hard as some of them were to hear, most often in tears. Just by looking at him, Ike was certain his heart was still in pieces. He knew Soren and he knew it stung to see others celebrating their romance in various public displays like that. He could tell, even though he was never keen on these things when it came to himself. He just needed to be sure, he told himself, in case Soren needed him to be there, to hear out his frustrations. As his best friend, he’d always been there. He’d always be there. He always needed to be sure he’d be alright. That’s all it was.Ike wet his lips and blew a small breath through his nose. “Hey.” Small knots were welling up in his stomach as he slowed to a shuffle, coming to a stop in front of his door while Soren approached his own. Blue eyes watched as red, tired, weak hues silently met his. “Are you alright?” he asked, just to check in. In case he was needed.The mage tore from his gaze for a moment, then flashed a quick half-smile. “Yeah… I’ll be fine.”Pain reverberated in his voice, yet he had such a beautiful, broken smile. It always bothered Ike to see someone he cared about experience so much misery, but it hurt a little more lately. Perhaps it was because he was never there to pick him up while it was happening, and it was through him that Soren met half of these people. He could never do more than watch and listen, and be a shoulder to lean on when the damage was done. But he knew he couldn’t blame himself for their wrongdoings—for the way the relationships played out. They were good people otherwise. It just happened that Soren fell for each one of them and they decided they couldn’t continue on with him at their side. He couldn’t blame himself for that.Still dripping with water, the bluenette mustered the warmest smiles he could, resting a hand of his door knob without looking. “If you ever need to talk, you know where to find me.” That’s all he could offer up, without the weird mix of worry, frustration, and a twinge of anxiety seeping through his words. He wasn’t all that good at hiding his feelings, but he felt like he needed to try. He turned to enter his room, not looking back to watch Soren walk into his.Coward.It would have been so much easier to just come right out with it when they first left Tellus together. Ike didn’t understand how people could keep up this roundabout mess so often, and here he was, doing it and exhausting himself. The damage was done now, though. He couldn’t be direct with him, the way he typically was with everything and everyone else. It was much too late for that.

Ike spent what would’ve been extra time preparing for his battles at the local market earlier in the morning. He knew much about the festivities of Valentine’s Day but never had much of a reason to participate in them. Some people went as far as to dress up. Some, as Mario did for the princess, bought flowers and candies. Ike, in all his effort not to look like a lost dog or bring about many curious stares, refused to buy something too obvious or extravagant, and settled for a single flower. He’d heard from Mist that flowers had different meanings, and the most popular flower stalls of the day were ones selling roses. There were some of all colors, but the most popular ones to go were red, pink, and white. The connotation a red rose held was generally common knowledge, but he figured asking the merchant for confirmation couldn’t hurt.“You’re interested in flower meanings? Well, I’m having a special on red roses, since they’re the most popular today. They’ll be your best bet if you wanna show deep desire and passion, and it sounds like you’re lookin’ for something really special for someone really special,” the merchant teased, a hand on her hip.“Uh, yeah,” Ike responded, rubbing the back of his head. He had a general understanding of what a red rose meant but… “I just want something to get the message across, that I care. I don’t need anything that intense right now…”“Like innocent love?”“Sure?”He hadn’t the slightest idea that there were different kinds of romantic love to be conveyed, but today was a day for learning, it seemed.“Well,” she chimed, “the Yellow Acacia might be of your interest. It’s supposed to symbolize friendship and secret love. Or the sensual Jasmine. Or the secretive Gardenia.” She rocked back and forth dramatically, gesturing to each as she picked them up. It was a bit maddening to watch after a little while, and he was about ready to take whatever she recommended next just to get out of there. “Or perhaps you could opt for the white rose, which stands for purity, innocence, devotion, and anything else sweet you could think of.”“Ah… I’ll take one of those then.”“Ahh, a man of swift decision! You’ve made a choice,” she sang as she plucked a white rose from the bunch. “Careful now, these can be quite prickly. I grow them myself, but I like to leave the presentation up to my patrons.”Gently, careful not to prick his fingers, Ike held the flower between his thumb and index finger. He glanced down at it for a moment before asking, “How much?”“Oh, don’t worry about it, mister! You’ve made my day by letting me talk your head off about my babies, so I’ll let you off the hook this time. Besides, whoever that’s going to,” and she’d point to the rose, “is one lucky gal.” She winked and waved him off.Ike felt his stomach well up with uneasiness as he returned to the manor. It was for Soren—another man. There was nothing wrong with that but people were so quick to assume... Not that he could necessarily blame them for assuming anything other than the norm, especially since he wasn’t certain just how far he strayed from it himself.Not yet, at least.

There was a loud clash of metal. It echoed endlessly through the stadium. What was happening on the stage seemed to move as slow as the sound’s journey through everyone’s ears. Vaguely, behind the music and the gentle splashing of rain on the rooftop, “You’re open,” could be heard and two people were sent flying, a red-haired swordsman was knocked away and a steaming boy wearing big green gloves was knocked toward the higher seats of the audience.“Little Mac, defeated! Roy, defeated! Game!” the announcer bellowed, and just like that, the fight was over. Immediately, Soren popped up from his seat. 15 minutes and 38 seconds elapsed in today’s stock match and Ike had bested all of the day’s contestants by a good single remaining K.O. in total. There were three matches and each fighter was given five lives each. By the end of it all, Ike had literally been smoking, ready to take defeat if it weren’t for a slight fault in the Little Mac’s footwork, which had thrown off Roy’s plan for a final rush.“The winner is…” The mercenary threw his great blade, Ragnell, into the ground and folded his arms. A small gust of wind from the fans up above pushed his cape around behind him. It was magical to watch so closely.“...Ike!”The crowd went wild, fans thrusting soaked, floppy posters, boards, and banners into the air to commend him on his victory. Soren made it his mission to be more supportive towards Ike while they resided in Smash Manor, and as a result, had become increasingly more interested in the tournament overall. That meant paying special attention to the events Ike fought in specifically, so he was seated right up front, right by the box where the contestants convened.As people slowly funneled out of the stadium, Ike hopped down from the stage to recover with a bottle of water and a few snacks. Earlier, he said he’d felt a little more worn out than usual and made an effort to push himself a little harder. He’d gotten up much earlier than usual to take care of some last minute business before training. Soren followed the crowd and turned a corner to take him directly to the main floor. To get in, he held up a card stored in his hip pouch to one of the guards standing at the entryway. Only authorized persons were allowed on the main floor. Even from where he sat during the fight—it was fairly far away although it was one of the closest seats one could obtain—he could tell Ike was exhausted. By the time he’d made it down there, the force field around the stage had been let down. Fighters were mingling with each other and those who fought next were preparing for their first match. The bluenette could be found exactly where Soren expected him to be: at the snack table trying to stuff his face with as much protein as he could get his hands on. “Well, congratulations,” he began, putting his card away and wrapping his arms around himself, “I suppose this means you’re going on to Round 2 tomorrow?”Ike turned around and met the raven-haired boy with a mouthful of turkey. A stuffed mouth did its best to chew it all up and swallow without choking before he responded. Even when he was like this, he was still charming… “Yeah, seems like it. Everyone’s fighting a little bit harder to try and win these last few events. It’s hard to think it’s been eight months since this all started up again.”The sage huffed, shifting his posture onto one leg. It was hard for him to think they’d been in this same place for more than half a year, but Ike was enjoying himself so there was no room to complain. The thing was, there wasn’t much to complain about here, besides the way some of the matches went and how people performed in them. The two got to stay at the Smash Manor, which was much more than welcomed since their room boarding were all paid for. For once, they got to save a bit of money without having to sleep on the ground. And Soren made so many companions just by hanging around with Ike. He appreciated the event more than it seemed, but no one else would know that. He glanced up at his friend, part of him wanting to give a soft smile but he just couldn’t push himself to do it. “You’ve done well to make it this far, but it’s clear that you’re tired. You haven’t had to fight like this in years.”It was no secret to either of them, but Ike seemed surprised at his words, only noticing the twitching in his own left eye when it was brought up. “I’ll rest tomorrow. I’ve hardly trained at all today.”Soren clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Only having Sunday to rest isn’t enough. This isn’t war. You should be using your spare time for maximum recovery. We don’t need you to end up pulling something after all this time. You’re much too close to victory.” he retorted in a low voice. Like he was telling him a secret.Ike scarfed down a couple meat skewers and washed them down with a small carton of milk. Soren could tell by his silence that he knew he was right. This wasn’t war and there was no reason to fight like it was. According to Roy, all Ike had eaten for the day was a little stack of pancakes and a couple eggs before he headed to the arena, and that was long after he’d woken up. It was funny that Soren was the only one who knew him that well even after attempting to lead paths separate from each other. He knew he liked to fight. Soren knew better than anyone that he wouldn’t pass up the opportunity for a good fight even if it meant forgoing proper self-care.“I hear you. I’m done for the day anyway,” Ike said once he had a breath. His eyes fell on the sage, who seemed to have already turned his attention elsewhere. He took a step back and turned to follow his line of sight. Peach was locked in the embrace of the small, red plumber with a box of chocolates in her hand on the far side of the floor. Soren had almost forgotten what day it was, what with watching the fight unfold. Almost wasn’t good enough. At the smallest pang of jealousy and melancholy, Soren took off without another word. He hated feeling these sorts of emotions outwardly, let alone showing them, so a swift retreat was his best course of action. There was nothing left for him to do here anyway. Not looking to see if Ike came with him, he could hear him immediately discarding his trash and following his lead.They walked quietly together through the downpour, straight to the manor. It was nice. It reminded him of old times not too long ago, traveling together side-by-side. Just the two of them. And as much as the more dour thoughts in the back of Soren’s mind were stock-full of protests, he didn’t say a word. It put him at ease to know that Ike had left the crowd behind to join him, even if it meant getting soaked in rain and silence. He had his cloak, but it didn’t do much good, and Ike had nothing. Yet, he walked alongside him, past the other participants who’d decided not to attend the day’s events, all the way up to his room.In the hallway, as they retired to their respective quarters, Ike spoke first. “Hey,” he said at last. Both of them slowed to a shuffle in front of their doors. Red eyes lifted from the brass knob and turned to meet his blue ones silently. Weakly. “Are you alright?”Their gaze broke. As much as the question was appreciated, he hadn’t felt like talking. This was Ike, though, and he knew he wanted to be supportive so he’d offer an earnest response. His eyes fell to the doorknob again in a moment of hesitation before they came back up. A small, quick half-smile accompanied them. “Yeah… I’ll be fine.” And it was true. Spending some time with himself would ensure that he would be fine. Pouring himself into his books usually proved to be a good distraction for the negative things he felt so that was the plan for today.Still dripping with water, the bluenette returned a warm smile, resting a hand on his own doorknob. “If you ever need to talk, you know where to find me.” And then he went inside his room.Soren pushed his hood off and proceeded into his own room to find something strange awaiting him. He shrugged his cloak off and hung it up to dry on a hook beside the door, then meandered to his bed. His eyes glossed over a single white rose lying atop his pillows. Immediately, the gesture was alarming. It meant someone had been in his room without his knowing, and most people in the manor knew not to enter his room for any purpose, especially when he wasn’t there. When he got up, he’d spent the morning talking to Roy so there was no telling who it could’ve been, but aside from that, it meant someone was thinking about him. Who, he could only give passing guesses to, seeing as to how he spoke to so many people on a daily basis lately, but he concluded that the gesture was innocent enough and would let it slide this time.

After a few minutes of scrounging around his room, Ike stepped out of his room to grab fresh towels and caught a glimpse of Soren carrying a single white rose in a cup of water back to his room. His heart rate picked up and the pit of his stomach tingled. Odd, he thought, as he made his way to the linens cabinet.He didn’t realize it at first, but seeing his offering accepted made him smile.

Unbeknownst

The realization of how long he and Ike had been away from Tellius hit Soren after a few short months. It was refreshing, really. With no real responsibilities to worry over, besides being Ike’s right hand man, he found himself in a place of bliss. He was right where he wanted to be. Despite this he’d somehow continue to maintain his work-first mentality. He took inventory of everything they carried on them, how much money they collected, spent, and had in total, and he planned their trips a day ahead of time to estimate how long it would take to get there, if they ever chose a specific place to travel to.Soren made up his mind that he’d follow Ike anywhere he went when they found each other again and he joined the Greil Mercenaries, but it was set in stone, in his heart, after Ike took time to speak to him in the Tower of Guidance. He admitted he couldn’t recall much about their past together but he did his best. It was appreciated. Soren couldn’t quite put it into words, what he felt wrapped up in the other’s arms… Relief? Pure happiness? He couldn’t explain why he burst into tears and he further appreciated Ike for not pressing the issue. They both learned something about each other that day, why they were separated and why they remained so close after reuniting. Soren would never leave his side again. That ice encasing his heart had completely melted away with one hug and he would never allow the source of his heartbeat to get too far away from him again.So they ended up where they were, just the two of them, trudging through unknown territory. They’d obtained a map of these lands in a previous town and the sage had efficiently marked it up with notes and calculations. It was easy enough to get lost in Hatari; he would hate to get them lost here. Thin, cold hands gripped the sides of the paper tightly, tight enough to wrinkle it.“Soren?”“Hm?”He had spaced out again. His head was up, staring at the frozen road in front of them. Every so often, he found himself letting his mind wander back to the conversation before their final battle together and the ways it made him feel.“Are you feeling alright?” Ike asked. He was learned over slightly, trying to peer at the map and then trying to study Soren’s blank face. His eyes were so blue today, he thought, looking back up at him. The smaller man noted how much rest he’d gotten recently, how much more carefree he seemed.“Oh… yeah, I’m fine. We should reach the next town in about a day or so.” Likewise, he was certain Ike could say the same for him, though it was rare for him to space out so much. His mind was always moving, always focused on something. Once upon a time, he was paid to think; it’d become difficult to just stop. Granted, he wasn’t thinking about work, so perhaps he could be seen as carefree.Now he had all the time in the world to think of everything else outside of work. He finally had time to feel his thoughts out and fully understand them. Two thoughts in particular broke and entered his mind regularly, and the time he spent spaced out was used to grapple with the ideas...

Night fell and it was time for bed again. Off and on, to save money where they could, they would set up camp much like the way they would during wartimes. Soren had already gotten out of his robes and remained only in his pants and undershirt. He intended to read before bed, relaxing his mind and then easing into sleep after taking his hair down and brushing it, the way he typically would.Most things this night were typical, but something about the way Ike had finally come into the tent and wriggled out of everything but his tights caught his eye. Of course, he’d noticed it before. Sharing a tent was nothing new to them, though it didn’t stop him from taking a second glance. Eyes widened slightly in an attempt to understand the way the dim lighting of their lantern sculpted Ike’s large, muscular frame. Maybe it was a little ridiculous to go as far as to say he was built like a god but the way highlights and shadows fell around him… It wasn’t so hard to believe a man of his stature bested a goddess nearly half a year ago.His hand rested heavy between the pages of his book. The cold January air brushing past his face would have been welcoming if he could feel it. Soren realized it was a possibility when he noted, in seeing Ike for the first time in several years, how handsomely he’d grown up, that he may have been attracted to other men. Months into the Mad King’s War, he noted the way his hair was long enough to flop around his face and how thick and strong his forearms appeared when he crossed his arms or rested them on the table during meetings. During the years the company had gone into hiding, he noted how much taller, more powerful, and more mature he’d gotten. He considered it a real possibility when he noted how hulking his figure was when he got too close during their spars, or how his muscles flexed when he swung his sword, and it became distracting to him. Still, he somehow never considered he’d really feel it when they were left to their own devices—which wasn’t anything different from the life they had before they left the Mercenaries.As a boy, he had genuinely only wanted to see the one person who was ever kind to him, and see him doing well. He needed to assure himself that such a kind soul was safe and prosperous. That was what drove him to seek Ike out. When he finally found him and confirmed he was well, he made it his life's mission to protect that wellness. Soren found that Ike was just as kind and caring as when they first met. He got him his first job, comforted him when people picked at him, and assured him that he was fine as he was, even if he wasn't always his most useful. As time went on, he began to love him in every sense of the word, and if he had a say in it, he'd help him achieve everything he'd ever dreamed of, because a soul as pure as his deserved it.Something like that was bound to turn into physical attraction, if it wasn't already. His mind was much more idle than it had been, as much as he tried to busy himself with what work they could find. Nights like this made it difficult to focus on much else. Ruby eyes remained locked on his back, tracing the light between his scars and chiseled figure. For one reason or another, he appeared more beautiful than ever. And then he turned around.Immediately, Soren snapped his gaze to Ike’s cot, just something else to pretend to be fixated on so he wouldn’t be caught being awkward. “...What’s wrong?” A soft voice came from across the tent but he couldn’t bear to look at its source. It was all too much to bear, really, and he was more than positive his face would give him away regardless. He felt goosebumps run up his arms and a warmth burn on his cheeks. “You’ve been acting strange all day. What’s on your mind?”“It’s nothing,” ripped from his throat. The hand that stayed glued to his book now flew up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Why now, dammit? He couldn’t even face him the same way he could a day ago.The more he thought on it, the more he realized it had always been there—the physical attraction—but now it was demanding. He felt so… needy.Perhaps he could explain himself and his feelings much more adequately if his thoughts weren’t running amuck. Perhaps, he thought, he could wait it out just a little bit longer and tell him when the time was right, and indulge his embarrassing musings if he was accepted. As things stood now, it’d be impossible to sound, at all, genuine. Despite knowing Ike would still accept him as a friend if he ever decided to come out and say it, he feared that his feelings were one-sided, for a multitude of reasons. Part of him didn’t feel as though he deserved someone so special. Though he knew it was absurd for Ike to have suddenly fallen in love with some random woman without telling him, part of him wondered if he preferred women. He was an open book and he might've found Soren to be the same to him by now… but part of him worried he specifically didn’t like him. It was a possibility. Then again, many things were possible. It was all hard to say and he didn’t want to dwell on it longer than he had, for fear of appearing more suspicious.“I keep thinking about something I read the other day. It’s stupid and I’d rather not dwell on it any longer than I have to,” he lied. It had to do for now.“...Huh. It must’ve been pretty terrible then. Good luck with forgetting.” Ike responded. He didn’t give it a second thought. Or, at least, it seemed like he didn’t. He merely climbed over on his cot and slid underneath his sheets, his back facing Soren, and Soren never felt more thankful to be turned away from. “Goodnight, Soren.” he murmured, seeping down into his bedding further.He’d finally released his nose, pushing his book aside to sink into his own cot. He’d blow the candle out between them and turn his back toward Ike.“Goodnight, Ike.”It was inconvenient, but he would have to convince himself that this strong physical allure didn’t change a thing about the way he loved Ike. It just added to it his admiration. These things were normal. He was certain even Ike felt them at some point, but he wouldn’t let his mind wander farther than that. Pulling his blanket up to his neck, he focused in on the silence around them and used that to drift off to sleep.

Family Matters

Year 632Tiny fingers ran along wooden floorboards, trying to pick up whatever the boy could for examination. To his dismay, it would be pretty hard to do since he’d been made to sweep and scrub until the wood appeared like new. Cleaning the floors had only been a weekly chore but it felt like everyday ended this way. To pass the time, he tried to make sense of the space around him, trying to find something that he hadn’t noticed before. The rays of the high sun twinkled through his window, sparkling against anything it touched. The brilliant yellow shapes beneath him were sights he’d seen many times before but the wonder in the particles floating around him never seemed to get old.How fascinating it was that the air could condense itself into something so soft and light in color. These little tiny pieces of stuff that we couldn’t see in most other cases touched our eyeballs when we saw and entered our noses when we breathed… He knew it wasn’t dangerous, because everyone breathed this stuff in, young and old, but he held his breath and closed sore, red eyes at the thought. Sitting directly under the light meant that he could see the red in the backs of his eyelids, so it was like he didn’t have them closed at all, and he couldn’t hold his breath for long. His tiny chest rose and fell to make up for the few seconds of lost air he’d been trying to stave off.When he wasn’t cleaning, he was made to stay in his little room and keep to himself. More specifically, he was to keep away from his mother figure. There wasn’t much snow this year so there wasn’t much to look at outside of his window. His windowsill sparkled and had not a speck of dust on it. Despite it being nothing more than a culmination of the stuff floating around in the air, she hated having it around the house. That’s why he had to clean every bit of it up, all except for the part of the floor closest to the wall under his bed. He knew if she were to ever move the bed, he’d be in big trouble but he still kept it around. The boy laid flat on his back and peeked underneath to see just how much had accumulated in a few weeks' time. A small frown tugged on his mouth, seeing there hadn’t been as much as he’d hoped for. It lightly dusted over the floor, just enough to dim the color of the wood below—the same as what he’d observed last week.He sighed softly, at a loss of what to do next. His tummy growled and he patted it, hoping to keep the noise down more than anything else. It had to be about noon now; the sun was nearly in the center of the sky and he’d been up since sunrise cleaning to the woman’s liking. He never understood how a room could get so dirty in just a few days that he needed to sweep up so thoroughly. He didn’t see anything wrong with it this morning but what would he know when his elders knew the world better than he did?A little hand rubbed at dried tears on his cheek softly and he winced at his own touch. It hurt a little more than usual, but part of him hoped that maybe he could rub the pain away. His caretaker’s voice dripped with a certain venom that shook him to the core since she’d awoken him this morning. He was reluctant to begin his chores, so maybe it was the fact that he didn’t see much wrong with the house, or his room particularly, that she didn’t like. Maybe he missed a spot. That had to have been it. He cleaned like he normally did in spite of his hesitation and it still wasn’t enough. To be fair, she always yelled at him, and he was always afraid, but he could hardly guess as to why she pulled and pushed and pinched him the way she had today. Maybe she had guests coming over later.A scream from outside jolted him upright. He pushed himself off the floor and ran to take a look, only to see the neighborhood kids playing ball with each other. Arms folded along the windowsill and he rested his head on them, musing what their home lives must be like that they got to play outside with each other like this. They were out there almost everyday, always laughing and talking about things that were practically foreign to him, but over time he learned by listening in on their conversation, if they were loud enough to hear. The woman forbade him from ever opening his window so he always hoped they would speak up. Today, they boasted to one another about what lunchtime had entailed. Descriptions of sandwiches and snacks and juices of all kinds had filled the air, bringing about the rumble in his belly again. Everything sounded so extravagant in comparison to what he regularly ate. He could only imagine what wonderful mothers they must’ve had to make such elaborate meals.A pound came to his door and shook him out of his daydream. “Eat, boy,” a gruff voice called out from behind it. Finally. All he had for breakfast was an apple thrown at him. Usually for lunch, he got a plate that consisted of a few uncooked baby carrots, a chicken leg, and a bread roll of some sort. Small legs shuffled over to the door and opened it cautiously, making sure she was gone. The plate sat lonely on the ground, and the woman sat at the dining table with her own plate of food. He pulled it into his room to see its typical assortment plus an extra chicken wing. It was a rarity that puzzled him as much as the intensity of her aggression, but it was one he would be grateful for, for the time being. Maybe guests really were coming over for her to make extra…His mind wandered back to screeching children outside. How different were their lives from his, to be able to have friends and eat such grand meals together? They, too, must’ve been made to do chores and keep the house tidy when they weren’t outside, and received little rewards for it. Maybe they didn’t care because they got to play the majority of the day. He wouldn’t care much either if he was better distracted from his hunger, he thought, poking at his carrots.

Magic and Darkness

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Books

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Candles

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Pulse

Ylisstol - February of Tellius Year 653An out of place, deep crimson coat matching Soren’s curious eyes pulled his attention from behind Ike’s shoulder in the marketplace of Ylisse’s capital city. Something inexplicable drew him to that head of white hair, trying to figure out where that strange man hailed from – clearly not from the Halidom, with his flamboyant, black and red attire."Soren?" Ike's voice cut through Soren's thoughts. Big red eyes blinked rapidly."What?""What is it?" Slowly, his head turned to follow his friend's line of sight to find what was so distracting. That gesture was enough to bring him back to the topic at hand."Sorry, it's nothing. Run that by me again?"A large hand waved off the apology. "Don't worry about it. Let's head back to the barracks for lunch.""Actually," Soren began, peering over the swordsman's shoulder again, "You go ahead. There's something I still need to do here. We'll reconvene later, then?"A nod and soft grunt was all he got in response and the two went their separate ways, with Ike heading to the palace and Soren heading to an apple stand.Gliding up to the stranger's side, he picked up an apple and pretended to examine it. Whether or not it was convincing was not a concern. Rather, what concerned him was where this man had come from and what his intentions in Ylisse were, so long as he and Ike were in the area."These aren't looking too good this morning, huh?" a warm voice called out from behind silver locks.Slim hands, rotated a red apple so he could deliberately keep his gaze away from the taller man. "I would’ve guessed not with how long you've been looking over them. You haven't come away with even one?""Nah. Strawberries are more my style. But I could say the same for you."That got him to drop his act and look at him. "I beg your pardon?""Sorry, that came out wrong," he said behind a little smile. "You've been looking over here for as long as I've been standing here, right? You need something?""...I can't pinpoint where you might come from. Your clothes are flashy so I doubt it's a uniform of sorts.""You could call it one, but you won't find anybody for miles and miles around dressing like this. This is all me."To put emphasis on his boast, black gloves pulled at the crimson jacket. Soren turned back to his apple. "Clearly. What do you do?""...Mercenary work. But you're not from around here yourself, are you?"'Perceptive,' Soren thought, glancing back over at the man to catch piercing blue eyes looking him over. It was almost startling how light they were."Maybe." That was all he would give."Fair enough. The name's Dante."Dante...Outside of his books and novels, it was a name like no other he’d heard before, just as /mildly/ intriguing and charming as the man it was attached to."...Soren.""Nice to meet ya, Soren. Can I at least ask how long you and the big blue guy are gonna be around for?""A while. Why?""I'm here for another few days, visiting Chrom and Lucina."A brow raised curiously. "You know the Exalt?""Yeah," he admitted, a hand reaching up and rubbing the back of his head. "They invited me here after our last mission together.""...I see." Being an ally of his allies meant little Soren, beyond strength in numbers. Remaining skeptical of everyone he crossed paths with was how he preserved himself. This time, though, he figured there was little to lose in the moment by aligning himself with Dante. If Chrom and Lucina saw something in him, to extend the same offer to him as they had to him and Ike, he must have been an ally worth having around. "My former commander and I are here for the same reason. More so that he fought in a tournament with them.""Yeah?" He paused for a second, scratching his chin as if he'd remembered something. He clicked his tongue and turned around, putting all the buckles and talismans that adorned his body on display. He was done here. The abrupt conclusion made the sage drop his apple. "Well, Soren, maybe I'll see you two around then."Without missing a beat, he'd salute two fingers, flash a grin, and was on his way, leaving his new acquaintance at the stand.And intriguing he was. They did see each other around and the more of him he got to see, the more he wanted to learn. Not that Soren had ever intended to spend that much time with him by any means, but something about the way he carried himself felt warm. It felt familiar. Despite his boisterous personality, he was not completely uncomfortable or unpleasant to be around. He was often both smooth in his actions and obnoxious in the way he spoke—a contradiction to himself—but when he settled down, he appeared serious and so clear in his words that it was almost like reading a book. In those instances, it gave Soren a glimpse into who he truly was. He was a man who put on a show to conceal something much deeper. Much like the sage, he always said what was on his mind, no matter what his disposition was at the time. He took comfort in knowing that, so much so that the few days Dante spent in Ylisstol were also spent with Soren.When Ike was busy, whether it was sparring, working jobs with Chrom and some of the Shepherds, or just getting caught on the street by adoring fans who longed to meet their idol in person, Soren found time to step away. Even when he had every plan in place to remain at Ike’s hip, the temptation of listening to another weird story over drinks (of water or some sort of caffeinated beverage on his part) or dinner seemed to overtake him. Of course, he’d long rationalized it as forging another strong alliance to both Ike and himself—another business matter in the grand scheme of things, but in the back of his mind lingered creasing sky blue eyes, thin, pale lips pulling into a smirk above a sharp jawline that bore the slightly-shadowy tell-tale sign of facial hair. That was part of the charm he noted during their first encounter. When he drank, he had a balmy scent of musk and beer, and it rolled off of his body every time he moved and breathed. Thankfully, it wasn’t that overbearing smell Shinon had when he drank himself into oblivion after a tough mission, the kind that festered in his clothes and pores the next day. This was gentle. Subtle. It only permeated his senses at the end of the day, just enough to let him know that he’d worked hard and rewarded himself for it. It was similar to the way Ike’s scent stirred around him, if and when he had a drink at the end of a long workday.The days dawdled on like that until the week was up, and Soren had learned the existence of the man’s brother and what he really meant when he said he was a “mercenary.” In exchange, Dante had learned that he and his former commander were from a time long before this. During their last encounter spent sitting together on the outskirts of town, they had mutually confessed to one another that they weren’t all that human. It began with Dante talking about his brother again, and why they weren’t so close, and Soren figured it was safe enough to share his secret. The thought of feeling ‘safe’ with someone he hardly knew threatened to make his stomach churn. It went against everything he knew, though it wasn’t the first time he’d felt the urge to jump the gun and let his defenses down. If the first time he’d done it was anything to go by, it was a terrible idea that led to things like betrayal and drama and… heartbreak. Still, he thought to trust his gut. In an odd whirlwind of events, he trusted the demon hunter enough to spend this kind of alone time with him. And truly speaking, what hatred could a half-demon boy really carry for a half-dragon boy without the context of growing up in Tellius, especially when he had experienced the same prejudice? Though they came from vastly different worlds, they were one and the same. That was what Soren felt to be true, and that was possibly what made him feel so safe.By time they parted ways, the branded boy could be certain he’d at least made a friend in the cambion, and that friendship was enough to give him renewed hope in the world.

May of Tellius Year 654.

Mother's Letters

May 9, 660 / 2021The day had a somber start to it. Most of those around him had lost their mothers to some tragedy, natural or not. The sage’s lover was no different. Ike lugged himself out of bed earlier than usual to get Titania something for her birthday and train afterwards, to help take his mind off of things. Typically, Soren would be right at his side as he was mostly indifferent about the holiday, keeping him company as he shopped and later offering himself as extra resistance where needed but today he had business of his own to take care of.A letter came in the mail for him a few days prior and without opening it, he already knew its contents.This charade began the first time he left Tellius, after denying his mother’s pleas to be part of his life.Perhaps he’d be considered one of the lucky few to still have a living mother today, but he hadn’t felt that way. Being exposed to a life of torment and hatred, spurred on by his father’s insanity and his mother’s continuous lapse in judgment, how could he?For the second time in his life, at the age of twenty-two, he relayed his story to her and his apparent uncle, the now King of Goldoa, who were both blissfully ignorant to the kinds of horrors Branded children could be subjected to. The king, unlike his older sister, understood why the strategist would want nothing to do with reforming the bonds of his blood relatives and let him be. She, however, seemed to be set off like a bomb at his atrocious tale. Her wailing became incessant and—being full of excuses, justifications, apologies, what felt like false promises, and so on—had nearly pushed him over the edge. Still, his rage and sorrows were compressed and contained, and he’d only spit venomous nothings as to how she had never deserved to be looked upon as his mother, for her selfish choices and putting him in harm’s way, for never seeking him out and suddenly popping up to assume the role as if nothing had happened, and for screaming the way she did at him, as if he owed her his affections for simply bringing him into this desolate existence.For as long as he could help it, Soren would leave Tellius with Ike, never to return and have to deal with that woman ever again. Unfortunate circumstances changed his plans and brought him back.They led him to the old mercenary fort first, where he found that she had never let go. During the time he spent away, she held onto some hope that he would come back one day and see all the letters she’d written him over the years, piling up in his bedroom. And he cursed her for it.The first round was discarded in a fire pit in an attempt to remove any memory of her and what she had wished upon him, but it didn’t stop the ones still on their way, still being written.The next round was refused; he would meet with the carrier out front and issue a return to sender, but that only kept for so long.Soon, he was on his way again, off to other lands, married, became a homeowner, and divorced over the course of a couple years. This was no stop to her pen, of course, nor her persistence to get through to him. Out of curiosity, he made his way back to the fort and found a scene similar to what was there before. He could be grateful that she hadn’t heard of his most recent return or found the location of his new residence, but to think she would never stop…There was an easy fix to all of this. It would be like him to go directly to the source and stop this madness once and for all but, in what he would consider his own lapse in judgment, he felt… bad. The situation itself had always been terrible but she was trying, in vain, to fix her mistakes. It wouldn’t kill him to at least read some of what she wrote before shoveling it all into another fire.Exactly twenty letters were taken from the pile and brought back home with him.And he had every intention to read them.By the time he got back home, this sense of dread, the fear of feeling what he did all those years ago bubbled up and turned him away from opening them.Today, ten years after their meeting, those fears hadn’t dissipated but he thought that with his new support system, he could handle it much better than he would have been able to then.While Ike was away, Soren took to his study and shuffled through one of the drawers of his desk where he kept the letters bound by string. He took a deep breath and made a conscious effort to stay focused as he spread them across the wooden surface. Each one was blank on the front, except for his name, so there really was no telling what each one said. He’d only assumed it was more of what she said at the table that day but it had been years…So he would start with one, steady his breath, and skim through it.Somewhat to his relief, it was nothing like that. It was short and cordial. It was overbearing in the fact that it still addressed her as his mother and she had ended it on the notion that she “loved” him, but she had inquired about his well-being and told him how she was. That was it.Soren released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and took a moment to steady himself again before moving on, one letter at a time. Most of them were the same. There were a few where it was obvious that she wrote them from a place of emotional instability, some where she went back to pleading for his attention, and some where she’d become irate that he wouldn’t so much as send a response, but the vast majority kept a quaint air about them. And though he could feel his frustration boiling at the surface, he felt a twinge of sadness rising from underneath it. This woman was disturbed and she wanted, desperately, to make things right. That was clear.He just didn’t have it in him to give her the satisfaction of forgiveness. Not right now. No response that he could give could change the beatings and harsh words he endured for nearly the first decade of his life. No amount of her “love” could change the fact that he had been sold off and soon after, left for dead. Nothing either of them did could change the fact that he spent his most formative years feeling lost and empty, and frankly, he didn’t see the ways it would benefit him in the future. Not the near future, for certain.He’d found all that he needed in the company he kept, and in Ike.So, he wanted to go back to forgetting that she and these letters existed for now. Not wanting to sit with these uncomfortable emotions for long, he collected each note, folded them against each other, and took them to the front of the house, where he would place them in the fire that warmed his tea for the day. He’d need the refresher before stepping out and facing the world again.