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fic: Ordered Chaos
Title: Ordered Chaos
Series: Fire Emblem 9
Character/pairing: IkeSoren-ish
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 2022
Summary: Soren's life is one of travel and hardship, all revolving around a single boy.
Author's note: cottoncandy_bingo: packing. For Kiu's birthday. Sorry it's late! Work and offline issues left me exhausted and my writing took a toll, but I finally pushed through and got back to good.
(Content to note: mention of child abuse and suicidal thoughts for Soren, canon-typical violence, plus hints at game spoilers)
1.
He had nothing to carry but memories. Ragged clothes, uneven steps, and the promise of warmth always just one house farther. Somewhere, there was a boy who had looked him in the eye and treated him as if he were worthy of living. Not like the beasts of the forest, who walked past him as if he were a ghost, nor like the sage, who had seen him as a tool, a spirit charmer to be bent to his will. On the edge of death, he had almost welcomed the encroaching darkness in. The spirit within his body would devour his life regardless. The sage had been clear about that.
Soren never remembered making a pact. He had lost his life before he even found it, signed away what little chance he ever had.
His life before the boy was a like light underwater, details obscured and sounds far off. Three months ago, he'd put his face underwater and thought only, if I breathed in, the pain would stop. Not just the continual ache at the pit of his stomach, but every moment turned to numbness.
But then, someone had reached out to him. A single pane of light through the forest. The first person to look him in the eye, not at his pact mark, not as if he were nothing more than a tool.
Like a dream, or the warmth of a day gone, the boy vanished. In his wake, the town was massacred. Bloodstained, gore-spattered, as if a creature of nightmares had attacked.
He counted each body, even as his stomach clenched at the sight of the mangled corpses. He did not allow himself to accept the other options; wolves had pulled the corpse away, or he had died farther on.
He could sense the boy was still alive somewhere.
Soren gathered what little food and hope he could, and left. There was little to go by, but it was all he had.
2.
He'd slept in barns and cloisters, using the pact mark to gain access where he could. Anyone with magical knowledge would recognize the mark, and seek to turn him into temporary tool.
He never stayed long. A day, a week, a month. The pack slung over his shoulder, balancing the ever-present chance of death and the promise of seeing the boy once more. Like a shining glint in the distance, he followed, without question, a knowledge without words or reason. Something deeper he attributed to spirits.
The spirit would lose out on a host if he died, after all.
3.
After two years of searching, he laid his small satchel of belongings at the door of the only person who had ever looked him in the eye like a person, not a thing.
The boy that gazed back at him held no recognition. Even that hope was stolen from him.
4.
"Do you really have to go, Soren?"
The words, “no,” and, “I've changed my mind; I'm staying,” were on the tip of his tongue.
Instead, he said, “It'll only be a few short weeks at the capital.”
It would be a wonderful opportunity, a chance to work outside the cloistered walls of the small mercenary fort. And it was, if he ignored the creeping feeling of unease which had come over him. Just as he had sensed Ike those many years ago, he sensed this new feeling inside himself.
A mere flirty glance towards Ike from a girl at the market could leave Soren with stormy thoughts for days. Death was inevitable, the spirit having already devoured years off his life, but the thought of Ike moving on without him, that was far worse.
A month to return to his senses. If only his heart were clockwork and he could remove spare parts, fix it back to coldness.
"Don't take too long. We'll fall to pieces without you to keep us in line," Ike said.
He would never unpin the metallics of his heart, but oh, he could try.
5.
It wasn't the first time he'd fled from brigands, or had to crawl over bodies. His years of traveling served him well, as he knew how to sleep in thickets.
He never had to fear any creature of the forest, for even the common predators avoided him, as if he were that much of a stain. They could likely catch the scent of his life being drained, little by little, and flee, lest the spirit move onto them.
Every dusty step brought him closer to Ike. He ignored the aches and blisters that formed. He was already forming a strategy to keep Ike safe. If they had to flee together to Daein, they might just survive. Honor and justice were nothing but words, after all.
6.
He knew how to call the wind, how to make sparks from spirits and air, but all that magical skill and he couldn't do what Ike needed most. He knew no way to part the veil, no way to bring back their commander. Not even his spirit, silent as it was, could grant him that.
Former commander. The words seemed too heavy a mantle. Ike still wore his boyhood, his uncertainty, held back sadness and insecurities. Just months ago, they had sat under trees with dappled sunshine, their feet sunk deep into the stream. Just months ago, Ike had been benched from combat, stuck with training swords and dreams.
Soon, they would be back to traveling through forests at night, back to this impossible war which had already cost Ike his childhood. If only the spirit within him was stronger, and he had another soul to barter, perhaps he could have changed the outcome.
But all that was left were regrets and the sinking inability to feel able to even give Ike comfort, let alone support him in this hopeless war.
7.
Soren couldn't quite meet Ike's eyes. There never was a spirit, only the blood of beasts through his veins. The shunning of the beasts had been a portent all along. He hadn't even realized, then. He'd clung to the facade of a pact, a soul sold away. It seemed fitting; his life had already been misery until Ike.
It felt like losing his breath, a sharp blow to the chest. Like broken ribs and a wound healed wrong.
The thought of Ike walking past him as those beasts had, even as he called for help, or even worse, looking with revulsion, left him gray and pulled in, as if his mind were an endless storm.
"Tell me, Soren, are you all right?" Ike said.
"Hm?" Soren said.
His thoughts only momentarily ceased, the clouds temporarily parting to let through a hint of light.
"Recently -ever since we reached Begnion, in fact- you've seemed depressed," Ike said.
Soren clutched his satchel simply for something to hold onto as the creeping thought grew louder. What if he sees?
"Is...is that so? How odd. Well, I can think of nothing specific that's bothering me," Soren said.
His words sounded hollow even to his ears. He'd never kept anything of this magnitude from Ike.
Soren could tell so many little tics, such as when Ike’s eye twitched due to exhaustion.
But Ike could read him just as well. He could never contain his sadness without Ike reaching out and trying to pull him out of the storms within him.
8.
Since that day in the Begnion library, he'd kept his things packed and an escape plan at the ready. The thought of leaving Ike was more painful than the shunning of his childhood, more painful than starving and the empty feeling as every adult looked straight to his mark, and to what they could use him for.
Losing him was losing all chance of goodness in the world, and any chance of hope. But Ike was still the only boy who looked him in the eye, who would accept him despite his blood.
He opened up the satchel. Now there was no need. Branded or not, Ike hadn't changed. Even if he no longer had those memories, he was still the one person Soren could rely on.
9.
Ike cast aside his mantle, the broach holding it, and his title.
"Good riddance," he said.
He'd been to see the royal courtiers, and was likely just as coarse talking with Queen Elincia. Thankfully, she was fond enough of him to overlook his lack of manners. In Begnion, they would have been fighting their way out of jail by now.
"I've already notified everyone else. We're leaving in the morning, otherwise we'll be dragged to ten more parties."
"I've already packed my things," Soren said.
The truth was, he was always packed and ready, should the need arise for flight. This habit had served him more than once, and even saved him on his first escape from the capitol.
"Good," Ike said.
He sat back on the bed, his legs hanging just off the side. Soren had been offered one of the more extravagant rooms, but he had taken a simple servant's quarters. Ike had done the same; they thought alike in that matter.
"Are you sure you don't want to be the queen's own tactician?" Ike said. He smiled, wry, and twisted his fingers into Soren's satchel.
"If she asks, I'd tell her that I am already employed. However, I don't think I'm the one she'd be asking for."
"She'll have to ask for someone else. I'm no Lord," Ike said.
"By tomorrow, you'll have the pleasure of hearing Shinon berate you all the way home," Soren said.
"Just like old times," Ike said.
10.
The peace Ike had fought so hard for only lasted three years.
Several seasons of corralling lost animals, routing brigands, and guarding merchants, and they were again the soldiers called to battle.
"When this is over, I'm going to take a trip," Ike said. It was under his breath, unheard by the others. Only Soren was close enough to hear his words.
"Vacationing in Begnion?" Soren said.
"You pick the map, point to a place as far away from squabbles and war, even the middle of the forest, and we'll go there."
He hadn't voiced the little fear, are you leaving without me? But, Ike had already made plans for them. The storm inside him began to soothe. Fragments of thoughts, half-spoken fears couldn't survive when Ike said the word we as if it was inconceivable that Soren wouldn't be right there beside him.
11.
"Are you ready?"
They had survived two wars, and a fight against the goddess. Ike's memories had been unsealed, and with them old scars pulled new. If Soren could somehow take the pain to himself, so Ike never had to feel this, he would.
But this was life. Life was suffering with little hope, filled with selfish and greedy people. But it wasn't all darkness. As long as Ike existed, Soren could believe.
He had no goodbyes to say. A map cast in a protective charm against bugs and water damage, a few tomes, and enough food to last until their next stop. He closed his eyes and rested his fingers upon the map. It was a more chaotic method of travel, whereas Soren would have studied the landscape and found a place rich with food and not prone to instability.
But for Ike, he could take a chance.
Series: Fire Emblem 9
Character/pairing: IkeSoren-ish
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 2022
Summary: Soren's life is one of travel and hardship, all revolving around a single boy.
Author's note: cottoncandy_bingo: packing. For Kiu's birthday. Sorry it's late! Work and offline issues left me exhausted and my writing took a toll, but I finally pushed through and got back to good.
(Content to note: mention of child abuse and suicidal thoughts for Soren, canon-typical violence, plus hints at game spoilers)
1.
He had nothing to carry but memories. Ragged clothes, uneven steps, and the promise of warmth always just one house farther. Somewhere, there was a boy who had looked him in the eye and treated him as if he were worthy of living. Not like the beasts of the forest, who walked past him as if he were a ghost, nor like the sage, who had seen him as a tool, a spirit charmer to be bent to his will. On the edge of death, he had almost welcomed the encroaching darkness in. The spirit within his body would devour his life regardless. The sage had been clear about that.
Soren never remembered making a pact. He had lost his life before he even found it, signed away what little chance he ever had.
His life before the boy was a like light underwater, details obscured and sounds far off. Three months ago, he'd put his face underwater and thought only, if I breathed in, the pain would stop. Not just the continual ache at the pit of his stomach, but every moment turned to numbness.
But then, someone had reached out to him. A single pane of light through the forest. The first person to look him in the eye, not at his pact mark, not as if he were nothing more than a tool.
Like a dream, or the warmth of a day gone, the boy vanished. In his wake, the town was massacred. Bloodstained, gore-spattered, as if a creature of nightmares had attacked.
He counted each body, even as his stomach clenched at the sight of the mangled corpses. He did not allow himself to accept the other options; wolves had pulled the corpse away, or he had died farther on.
He could sense the boy was still alive somewhere.
Soren gathered what little food and hope he could, and left. There was little to go by, but it was all he had.
2.
He'd slept in barns and cloisters, using the pact mark to gain access where he could. Anyone with magical knowledge would recognize the mark, and seek to turn him into temporary tool.
He never stayed long. A day, a week, a month. The pack slung over his shoulder, balancing the ever-present chance of death and the promise of seeing the boy once more. Like a shining glint in the distance, he followed, without question, a knowledge without words or reason. Something deeper he attributed to spirits.
The spirit would lose out on a host if he died, after all.
3.
After two years of searching, he laid his small satchel of belongings at the door of the only person who had ever looked him in the eye like a person, not a thing.
The boy that gazed back at him held no recognition. Even that hope was stolen from him.
4.
"Do you really have to go, Soren?"
The words, “no,” and, “I've changed my mind; I'm staying,” were on the tip of his tongue.
Instead, he said, “It'll only be a few short weeks at the capital.”
It would be a wonderful opportunity, a chance to work outside the cloistered walls of the small mercenary fort. And it was, if he ignored the creeping feeling of unease which had come over him. Just as he had sensed Ike those many years ago, he sensed this new feeling inside himself.
A mere flirty glance towards Ike from a girl at the market could leave Soren with stormy thoughts for days. Death was inevitable, the spirit having already devoured years off his life, but the thought of Ike moving on without him, that was far worse.
A month to return to his senses. If only his heart were clockwork and he could remove spare parts, fix it back to coldness.
"Don't take too long. We'll fall to pieces without you to keep us in line," Ike said.
He would never unpin the metallics of his heart, but oh, he could try.
5.
It wasn't the first time he'd fled from brigands, or had to crawl over bodies. His years of traveling served him well, as he knew how to sleep in thickets.
He never had to fear any creature of the forest, for even the common predators avoided him, as if he were that much of a stain. They could likely catch the scent of his life being drained, little by little, and flee, lest the spirit move onto them.
Every dusty step brought him closer to Ike. He ignored the aches and blisters that formed. He was already forming a strategy to keep Ike safe. If they had to flee together to Daein, they might just survive. Honor and justice were nothing but words, after all.
6.
He knew how to call the wind, how to make sparks from spirits and air, but all that magical skill and he couldn't do what Ike needed most. He knew no way to part the veil, no way to bring back their commander. Not even his spirit, silent as it was, could grant him that.
Former commander. The words seemed too heavy a mantle. Ike still wore his boyhood, his uncertainty, held back sadness and insecurities. Just months ago, they had sat under trees with dappled sunshine, their feet sunk deep into the stream. Just months ago, Ike had been benched from combat, stuck with training swords and dreams.
Soon, they would be back to traveling through forests at night, back to this impossible war which had already cost Ike his childhood. If only the spirit within him was stronger, and he had another soul to barter, perhaps he could have changed the outcome.
But all that was left were regrets and the sinking inability to feel able to even give Ike comfort, let alone support him in this hopeless war.
7.
Soren couldn't quite meet Ike's eyes. There never was a spirit, only the blood of beasts through his veins. The shunning of the beasts had been a portent all along. He hadn't even realized, then. He'd clung to the facade of a pact, a soul sold away. It seemed fitting; his life had already been misery until Ike.
It felt like losing his breath, a sharp blow to the chest. Like broken ribs and a wound healed wrong.
The thought of Ike walking past him as those beasts had, even as he called for help, or even worse, looking with revulsion, left him gray and pulled in, as if his mind were an endless storm.
"Tell me, Soren, are you all right?" Ike said.
"Hm?" Soren said.
His thoughts only momentarily ceased, the clouds temporarily parting to let through a hint of light.
"Recently -ever since we reached Begnion, in fact- you've seemed depressed," Ike said.
Soren clutched his satchel simply for something to hold onto as the creeping thought grew louder. What if he sees?
"Is...is that so? How odd. Well, I can think of nothing specific that's bothering me," Soren said.
His words sounded hollow even to his ears. He'd never kept anything of this magnitude from Ike.
Soren could tell so many little tics, such as when Ike’s eye twitched due to exhaustion.
But Ike could read him just as well. He could never contain his sadness without Ike reaching out and trying to pull him out of the storms within him.
8.
Since that day in the Begnion library, he'd kept his things packed and an escape plan at the ready. The thought of leaving Ike was more painful than the shunning of his childhood, more painful than starving and the empty feeling as every adult looked straight to his mark, and to what they could use him for.
Losing him was losing all chance of goodness in the world, and any chance of hope. But Ike was still the only boy who looked him in the eye, who would accept him despite his blood.
He opened up the satchel. Now there was no need. Branded or not, Ike hadn't changed. Even if he no longer had those memories, he was still the one person Soren could rely on.
9.
Ike cast aside his mantle, the broach holding it, and his title.
"Good riddance," he said.
He'd been to see the royal courtiers, and was likely just as coarse talking with Queen Elincia. Thankfully, she was fond enough of him to overlook his lack of manners. In Begnion, they would have been fighting their way out of jail by now.
"I've already notified everyone else. We're leaving in the morning, otherwise we'll be dragged to ten more parties."
"I've already packed my things," Soren said.
The truth was, he was always packed and ready, should the need arise for flight. This habit had served him more than once, and even saved him on his first escape from the capitol.
"Good," Ike said.
He sat back on the bed, his legs hanging just off the side. Soren had been offered one of the more extravagant rooms, but he had taken a simple servant's quarters. Ike had done the same; they thought alike in that matter.
"Are you sure you don't want to be the queen's own tactician?" Ike said. He smiled, wry, and twisted his fingers into Soren's satchel.
"If she asks, I'd tell her that I am already employed. However, I don't think I'm the one she'd be asking for."
"She'll have to ask for someone else. I'm no Lord," Ike said.
"By tomorrow, you'll have the pleasure of hearing Shinon berate you all the way home," Soren said.
"Just like old times," Ike said.
10.
The peace Ike had fought so hard for only lasted three years.
Several seasons of corralling lost animals, routing brigands, and guarding merchants, and they were again the soldiers called to battle.
"When this is over, I'm going to take a trip," Ike said. It was under his breath, unheard by the others. Only Soren was close enough to hear his words.
"Vacationing in Begnion?" Soren said.
"You pick the map, point to a place as far away from squabbles and war, even the middle of the forest, and we'll go there."
He hadn't voiced the little fear, are you leaving without me? But, Ike had already made plans for them. The storm inside him began to soothe. Fragments of thoughts, half-spoken fears couldn't survive when Ike said the word we as if it was inconceivable that Soren wouldn't be right there beside him.
11.
"Are you ready?"
They had survived two wars, and a fight against the goddess. Ike's memories had been unsealed, and with them old scars pulled new. If Soren could somehow take the pain to himself, so Ike never had to feel this, he would.
But this was life. Life was suffering with little hope, filled with selfish and greedy people. But it wasn't all darkness. As long as Ike existed, Soren could believe.
He had no goodbyes to say. A map cast in a protective charm against bugs and water damage, a few tomes, and enough food to last until their next stop. He closed his eyes and rested his fingers upon the map. It was a more chaotic method of travel, whereas Soren would have studied the landscape and found a place rich with food and not prone to instability.
But for Ike, he could take a chance.